Brenna held her breath. She had yet to think about what the Viking’s presence here meant. Why he should come in here and make as if to prepare for bed was beyond her. She did not consider that this might be Garrick Haardrad.
The man turned now as if puzzled, and stared at the balcony door. Then he moved to open it again. After this, he closed the other door, shutting them in the room together, and returned to the bed.
Brenna no longer pretended to be asleep, for she had a feeling he knew she was awake. She rolled to the end of the bed, for it was placed in a corner with one side against the wall, and she needed an avenue for flight. She crouched there, her long tresses flowing about the woolen nightdress, her body tense.
Both of them froze when their eyes met and locked for a long moment. Brenna felt as if mesmerized by those aqua-colored eyes, so light, a gentle blending of both green and blue. Annoyed, she found she had been holding her breath, and released it.
“I think you have been playing a deceiving game, wench.” His voice was deep, neither angry nor gentle. “You do not seem a wild vixen intent on escape, but a frightened child—though cunning mayhaps, for your game has gotten you a comfortable room.”
She laughed boldly. “Frightened? Of you, Viking? Your first description was accurate.”
“You are still here,” he pointed out.
“Only because I was kept tied to this bed until last eve,” she replied.
A tight smile formed on his lips. “’Tis a convenient story, but one that can easily be proved false.”
Brenna’s dark brows narrowed. She was not accustomed to being accused of lying. Like a cat, she jumped from the bed and landed facing him, feet apart and arms akimbo.
“Know this, Viking!” she said furiously, looking at him with dark, steady eyes. “I am Brenna Carmarham and I do not lie. Were it not the way I said, then you can be sure I would not be here now!”
A glimmer of amusement came into Garrick’s eyes as he watched this proud beauty. He ignored the implication of her words, and took them as an empty threat.
“Since Yarmille seems at a loss to know what to do with you, ’tis fortunate that I have come to take you in hand,” he said lightly.
“How so?” she asked, raising a brow. Before he could reply she added suspiciously, “Who are you, Viking?”
“Your owner, so I have been informed.”
Brenna gasped. “Nay, I will not be owned!”
Garrick shrugged. This was no meek slave he had been given: that at least was obvious. “You have little choice in the matter.”
“I—said—nay!” Brenna shouted slowly, her entire being rebelling against the idea. Flashing eyes reflected her outrage. “Never!”
Impatience crept into his voice. “I will not debate the issue.”
She surprised him when she replied haughtily, “Nor will I.”
Garrick laughed despite himself. Never had he had a slave such as this one. Such glorious jet-black hair, almost blue in its richness, such creamy white skin—and a face that was a vision. He was almost tempted to inspect her further, to see what lay beneath the unbecoming nightdress.
Brenna watched him warily as he sat down on the bed and ran long fingers through his wavy hair. So this was Garrick Haardrad, the man she was supposed to have married, the man who now assumed he owned her. He spoke her own tongue, which surprised her. But then, so did his mother, who must have taught him.
She wished he had not returned so soon, and that she had had time to assess her situation first. She didn’t know whether to fear this man or not. He was decidedly pleasing to look upon, and she found herself almost wishing that things had turned out differently, that she was here to be his bride, not his slave. Anselm had ruined that, and she could hate him all the more for it.
“What do you mean, you will take me in hand?” she asked.
“I do not tolerate useless property. My slaves earn their keep one way or another, or I dispose of them.”
The very coldness of his voice, coupled with the heartless words, sent a shiver down her back. “You would attempt to sell me?”
“Attempt? You imply I do not have the right.”
“You do not!” she snapped, unnerved by his callousness. “I told you I will not be owned.”
“Odin help me!” Garrick implored in exasperation, then turned a stormy eye on her. “You will desist, mistress, lest I am tempted to prove the issue!”
She started to ask how, but decided quickly that she would rather not know. She would not concede, but since he had made no demands on her as yet, she could let the matter pass for now.
