Brenna could not keep the apprehension from her voice. “What have you done, father?”
“The arranger was sent on his way yesterday. He will travel to Norway and make a pact with the Vikings—”
Brenna jumped to her feet. “The Vikings who struck Holyhead Island?”
“Nay, not necessarily the same. The man will seek out a chieftain who will take you to wife. A man with power.”
“You would barter me from door to door?” Brenna accused, looking down on her father with wide gray eyes, feeling for the first time in her life as if she did not know this man who sired her.
“You will not be bartered, Brenna!” Lord Angus said with conviction, feeling by all that was holy that he had acted correctly, no matter how much it pained him. “The man will use discretion. I sent Fergus. He is a diplomatic man. He will make inquiries. He will find a man of power who does not already have a wife and make the offer to him. You will not be bartered. Fergus was told to ask only once. If he has no luck, he will return and that will be the end of it. But heaven help us if he returns without the name of your future husband.”
Brenna saw red, blood red before her eyes. “How could you do this to me?”
“’Tis the only way, Brenna.”
“Nay, ’tis not!” she stormed. “We are miles from the coast. We have naught to fear!”
“The Vikings grow bolder each year,” Angus tried to explain. “The first news of their daring came before I was born. The land across from us is lost to them. To the north our brothers serve them, on the east of Brittany where they have settled. And now they have finally reached our shores. ’Twill only be a matter of time before they raid inland—mayhaps next year. Would you see our village laid to waste at their feet? Our men killed, the women taken as slaves?”
“’Twould not have been so!” she cried. “You are a knight skilled in warfare. You have trained me in the same arts. We can fight them, father—you and I!”
“Ah, Brenna, my Brenna,” he sighed. “I am too old to fight. You could kill many, but not enough. The Norsemen are a race of giants. There are none like them. They are fierce and without mercy. I would see you live, not die. I would protect my people.”
“By sacrificing me!” she hissed, beside herself with rage. “To an old chieftain, who by your own words will be ferocious and without mercy!”
“I have no fear for you on that score. I know you can hold your own.”
“I will not have to!” Brenna stormed. “I will not agree to the marriage!”
Angus’s brow darkened threateningly. “You will! Fergus carries my word of honor with him.”
“Why did you not tell me of this yesterday? You knew I would stop Fergus, didn’t you?”
“Yea, I did indeed, daughter. But what is done cannot now be undone. And ’tis partly your own doing. You are available. Cordella is not, and your aunt, though lovely still, is too old. The Viking will expect a young bride.”
“Do not put this blame on me, father! ’Tis wholly your doing.”
“I have put scores of men before you, men of wealth, title and handsome appearance, but you would have none of them!” Lord Angus reminded her gruffly. “You could have been married long since, but then, unfortunately, we would have been doomed.”
“You showed me naught but boorish braggarts and handsome fops. You expected me to choose from that handful of fools?”
“I know you, Brenna. You would not have chosen no matter who I brought before you. The very idea of marriage rankles you, though I know not why.”
“You are right there, milord,” she returned dryly.
“So I have choosen for you. You will wed the man Fergus finds. The deed is done.”
Brenna whirled around and faced the fire. Her mind revolted at the thought, but she felt utterly helpless. She, who had been trained to fight, could find no way to combat this. She grasped at straws before finally conceding.
“Another can take my place,” she said flatly. “No one would be the wiser.”
“You would pass a servant off as a lady?” Angus asked incredulously. “’Twould bring the Vikings here for revenge of the worst kind if you did such a thing. Fergus will extoll your virtues, Brenna.Yours!What servant here or anywhere, has your beauty, your manners or your courage? ’Twould take years to teach a maid your qualities. You are of noble birth, and a lady in all respects, thanks to your aunt’s gentle teachings. I thank the day Linnet came and took you in hand, else you would not be fit for marriage to anyone, let alone a Norseman.”
“Well, I curse that day for what it has brought me to!” she shouted.
“Brenna!”
At once she regretted her words. She loved her aunt dearly. Motherless since birth, Brenna had attached herself to the lovely Linnet when she first came, four years earlier, after the death of her husband. Linnet was Angus’s younger sister; she acted and looked only half of her two score years. She had taken Brenna in hand, even though it was too late to curb her boyish ways completely. She had been a second mother to Brenna, whereas her stepmother, a thorn in everyone’s side, spoke to her stepdaughter only to upbraid her. Even Angus sorely regretted marrying her. But at least her presence did not have to be endured for more than three winters, for she died the year after Linnet came. However, she left her daughter Cordella behind, who carried on her shrewish ways.
