Garrick stared at her in utter amazement. “Do you want me to?”
She considered this for a moment, then answered flatly, “Nay, the mood has passed.”
He grunted in irritation at her answer and wondered if he had won the battle after all. “I take it you found it was not so terrifying, eh?” he asked as he moved to her side and reached for his trousers.
“Nay, not in the least,” she answered, stretching lazily before him. Suddenly a look of anger crossed her features. “But someone will answer dearly for what I was led to expect!”
“Who?”
“’Tis my concern, not yours,” she replied, then her laughter rang through the room, completely confounding him. “I have learned much this day, Viking. My thanks.”
Since neither Yarmille nor Garrick was about to tell her nay, Brenna spent the day lazily in the house, getting to know the servants. Garrick had stormed from the room after he dressed, in a thoroughly black mood. He returned only long enough to throw a new shift at her, then left again without a word. She knew he was sorely vexed at the outcome of their lovemaking. He had expected her to be humbled, when in truth she had mastered the situation. This did not sit well with him. Mayhaps even now he was scheming other ways to bring her down, but she would handle them in turn.
After he left, though, surprise at the new experience wore off, and Brenna brooded about her stepsister. She was almost tempted to take one of Garrick’s horses and go seek out Cordella. What the bitch had done was unforgivable. The terror and panic Brenna had succumbed to were bad enough, but what rankled the most was that she had shown that fear to the Viking. Against her will she remembered the pleasurable feeling that had spread through her when he entered her. Then quickly she pushed the thought away. Why Cordella had filled her mind with lies was beyond her—but she would find out one day soon.
Brenna sat at the table in the long, narrow cooking area and watched Janie prepare loaves of bread for Garrick’s evening meal. Maudya was by the fire, stirring a thick soup full of large chunks of chicken. Maudya was a tawny-haired woman of about two score years, short and pudgy, with a quick smile and florid complexion.
Both women had confided to Brenna how they came to be here. Surprisingly, their account was without rancor. They had been neighbors in their homeland, living in a village that was raided four years past. It was Garrick himself who had captured and brought them here. In those years he served his father, and went on many such raids. The two women did not mind their life here, for it was no different than they would have had at home, and they were well provided for. Maudya did not mind as Janie did the fact that any guest of Garrick’s could bed them whenever he desired, simply because they were slaves and had no rights of their own. This was the only aspect of living here that Janie complained about. At least it did not happen often.
They both listened eagerly while Brenna explained her story, and were a bit overawed to learn the manner in which she was raised. She was doubly grateful now that her father had cared not a whit for custom or tradition, else she too might be like these other women, passive behind the yoke. She would never bend, either, and Garrick Haardrad would learn that truth in time, even if he did not accept it.
“Tell me about Garrick,” Brenna prompted as she nibbled on some wild nuts Erin had brought them that morning. “Is he a fair man?”
“Indeed he is,” Maudya answered easily.
“Except when he gives us to his friends,” Janie added, the days of the feast still uppermost in her mind.
“Methinks you complain too much,” Maudya chuckled. “I have heard you giggling the same as me when tousled in the hay.”
“I do not mind one man at a time, but not one after another as it is at a feast,” Janie returned in irritation. “Tell me you like the soreness ’atween your legs the next day?”
Brenna tried quickly to change the subject, for her own experience with a man was still too new, and she did not want to think of it yet. “What of the slaves he sold? Does he not care what becomes of them?”
“He had to sell them, Brenna,” Janie explained. “He had too many here—those he took himself, those from Ulric and those his father gave him. He sold only the hardy ones who would fare well and, of course, those who were troublesome.”
Brenna blanched at this, but Janie and Maudya did not notice. She soon regained her composure. “How many does he have left?”
“About twelve, I would say. There’s us, and the two old ones you saw here yesterday. Then there’s Erin and old Duncan, and five younger men. Of course, there’s the children too.”
“Children?”
Janie beamed proudly. “I have one: Sheldon, who is two. Maudya here has three, two of them twins.”
“The old ones watch them in the day,” Maudya said. “You will meet them later, when you come home with us. I do hope you like children.”
“I do,” Brenna smiled. “I used to take the little ones from our village hunting while their fathers worked the fields. Mayhaps I can take yours also, when they are older.”
Brenna realized with a shock that she had spoken of a future here, when she had no intention of staying overly long. She would have to guard herself and not become too friendly with these people, else she might regret leaving.
She continued her quest for information about the Viking. “Are they Garrick’s children?”
“The master never touched me,” Maudya pouted, “though I tried hard enough to catch his eye.”
“He took me to his bed a few times after he first brought us here,” Janie replied. “He lost interest in me, though, and would journey to his father’s house to taste his slaves. Perrin is Sheldon’s father; of this I am sure.”
“Perrin?”
“He is Garrick’s closest friend. They became blood brothers to bind that friendship. They combined their blood by sprinkling it on the ground in a fertility rite. This was six years past, when Garrick was but ten and nine, and Perrin two score and three.”
