“The master brought him home with him. Found him in Hedeby, he said. A fat purse this one cost him, to be sure.”
Brenna nodded, but her thoughts were no longer on the great steed. So Garrick was at the house, and Anselm with him. No doubt his brother Hugh was there also, that vulgar animal who had dared to maul her before all.
A frown creasing her brow, Brenna walked to the stable door and stared apprehensively at the stone house. How much time did she have? Was he looking for her already, or would he even bother, thinking she was safely tucked away in that sewing room? And why should he make the effort? He already showed that he had no interest in her, that she was only a nuisance to him. Even Yarmille said she did not please Garrick.
Brenna preferred it this way. She must keep out of the way and not draw attention to herself.
She walked back. “What do they call you?” she asked the old man, who was still grooming the stallion with tender care.
“Erin McCay.”
“Well, Erin, do you know the girl Janie?” she questioned, her smile warm.
“That I do. A pretty lass, Janie.”
“Where can I find her now? She took care of me when I was confined, but I was ungracious and needs must make amends.”
“You were confined?” He looked at her curiously. “So! You be the one the tongues are wagging over, Garrick’s new—”
“Yea!” Brenna cut him short, stopping him before he spoke the word she detested.
“And they have released you?”
She nodded. “They have. Now, whereabouts is Janie?”
“The lass is at the big house. She will be busy all the day and most of the night, serving the feast.”
Brenna frowned. “This feast. How long will it go on?”
Erin smiled amiably. “It may last for days.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “Aye. There is much to celebrate. The master has returned a wealthy man, and the family is reunited again. Truly there is much to celebrate.”
A look of disgust crossed her features. Was she to be tucked away from sight all this time? Why did Garrick not want her to be seen?
“May I help you, Erin?” she suddenly pleaded.
“Nay, ’tis a man’s work.”
Brenna refrained from debating this and asked instead, “If I obtain Garrick’s permission, will you let me work with you here in the stable?”
He raised a brow. “You know horses, do you?”
“Aye,” she grinned, “As well as you, I’ll wager.” She was silent a moment; then in a soft voice she continued, “I rode every day when I lived in my father’s home—out through our fields, over the streams and stone walls and into the forest. How free I felt…then.” She stopped, and a look of great sadness passed over her face. She shook it off and looked once again at Erin. “If I work with you in the stables, will you let me ride the horses?”
“Aye, lassie. Nothing would please me more. But I must secure the permission of the master. Otherwise I can do naught.”
“I will speak to him, then.”
“You had best wait until the feast is finished. The master will be well into his cups by now and may not remember your request or his answer.”
She would prefer to have it done with, but perhaps Erin was right.
“So be it. I will wait.”
“And, lassie, I suggest you remain away from the hall ’til the guests have all gone. ’Twill not go well for you if you are seen.”
