Brenna smiled slyly. “You thought he would not allow me to work here, but he did. Garrick is not so hard to persuade.” Curiously she asked, “What does he do in winter, to occupy his time?”
“There is not much for anyone to do once the snows come. The master hunts mostly and gathers with his friends for drinking bouts. Usually he joins his brother Hugh for a month, to sail further north in search of the polar bear.”
“Where is he now?”
“Gone for his morning ride.”
“Does he ride every morn?”
Erin looked at her oddly. “Why so many questions, lass? Have you an eye for the master?”
“Certainly not!” Brenna retorted. “But if I am to stay here, then I would know all I can about the man who is master here.”
“If?” he cocked an eyebrow. “You have no choice, lass.”
Brenna rose, her task with the horse finished, and dusted straw from her skirt. “I have a choice, Erin. Do not doubt it,” she said confidently.
A frown added to the wrinkles already on his brow. “What devilment is in your mind, girl? I warn you now for your own good, the master deals harshly with those who run away.”
“Ifhe finds them. Have no others from here sought their freedom?”
“Aye, two have. The female Hope tried to escape to the hills in the heart of winter, but the master found her easily and brought her back. She spent two days in the punishment cell and was nearly frozen to death when finally released. She was taken with the other slaves who were sold.”
“You said two?”
“A young man ran just last year. Hugh dealt with him since Garrick was not here. The lad was whipped to death before all. Hugh likes to make a warning well remembered.”
Brenna shuddered. “This punishment cell. There is really such a place?”
Erin nodded grimly. “’Tis below the house, facing the fjord. Ulric had it built for punishment, since he did not care for the whip. ’Tis just a small room carved in the cliff with a heavy door to seal it. A tiny square opening is in the door, with iron bars affixed, and this allows the only air to enter, but it also lets in the cold in winter. ’Tis not a pleasant room, but the master has made use of it on occasion.”
“Well, never fear, Erin. I will not see that room. When and if I go, I will leave the land and not be found.”
“By ship?” he laughed shortly. “How, lassie? There are only three ships on this fjord. The master’s, his father’s and one belonging to the clan across the fjord. None of these will sail again till spring, and you alone could never handle one by yourself.”
“I did not imagine I could,” Brenna replied stiffly, feeling a certain despair descend on her.
Just then they heard a rider approaching. A moment later the great black stallion pranced his way into the stable. Garrick sat straight and tall on the stallion’s back, dressed in dark brown tunic and trousers, his blond hair tousled from the ride.
Brenna’s eyes appraised the horse and rider appreciatively. The horse was powerfully sleek, a magnificent animal. But then, so was the rider, she admitted shamelessly. His was a body whose great strength was obvious from the bulging muscles in the bare arms, a body that was immensely pleasing to look upon. And his face could make a weaker wench swoon, so boyish when smiling, so ruggedly handsome when serious. Indeed, Brenna had never known such a man as this. She thought, a bit unsettlingly, that she could look at him for hours and not grow bored with what she saw.
Garrick sat motionless for a long moment, wondering at Brenna’s bold perusal of him. He noticed quickly that she seemed overly pleased with herself. No doubt she thought she had scored a victory over him. Had she?
Gradually a smile made Garrick’s lips curve and he dismounted, then tossed the reins to Brenna. She took them, and without being told, led the stallion to the stall she had previously seen him in. Erin came forward to remove the heavy saddle, but Garrick held up a hand and dismissed him. The old man returned to the back of the stable, mumbling that his bones could well use the rest.
“The horse needs grooming, mistress,” Garrick finally spoke, his tone condescending. “See to it.”
“You think I cannot?” she retorted, slightly piqued. “Is this a test then?”
“Nay, ’twas an order, wench. You have been given a task—do it.”
“You—ohh!”
She stilled her tongue and gave him a murderous glare instead, before she tackled the saddle. Several strenuous pulls were needed before it gave way, then the heavy weight nearly toppled her backward. She then swung with maddening force to place the saddle over the stall rail. Her breasts heaving with the effort, she looked at him triumphantly.
“There!”
Folding his arms across his chest, Garrick leaned against one of the stall beams. “There what? You have not finished. Must I tell you what to do next?”
