Brenna had to lower her eyes so he would not see the sudden joy reflected there. She could not believe it. Willow here? And given to her—not Garrick—her!
Anselm crossed to the door to leave. Brenna stared curiously at his back. Why would he do such a thing? After all that he had put her through, it was inconceivable that he should be kind now.
As if in answer to her silent question, Anselm turned at the door. “Erin will tell you of the horse. I do not expect this to change your feelings for me, girl, but ’tis a beginning.” He chuckled. “My action will certainly give you cause to wonder at my motives.”
Whatever his reasons, Willow was here and hers again. She now had a reason to venture out into the icy breath of winter. She would need trousers, though, to ride comfortably and protect her from the cold.
Brenna suddenly twirled about the room in her excitement. She had not felt this happy for a long time. The fact that Anselm was responsible did not hinder her pleasure. Garrick, on the other hand, might forbid her to take Willow out after her run-in with the two men. A frown crossed her brow, but only for a moment. He could not stop her when he was not here to do so. And when he returned, well, the devil take him. Just let him try to stop her!
Brenna entered the stable and quickly closed the large door to keep out the cold. She was tightly wrapped in the heavy bearskin cape that Garrick had tossed at her one day when the last hints of summer had vanished. All of the slaves here had their own capes or jackets made of old furs stitched together and considered worthless for trading.
Brenna was certainly not happy with hers. Although the fur was clean, the skin was rough and terribly heavy. She was sure Garrick had given her the heaviest cape he could find, just for spite. But it was all she would have unless she raided the locked storehouse where clothing, provisions and Garrick’s treasures were kept. This she was determined to do one day with Erin’s help. For her escape, she would also need the weapons kept there.
The stable was warm, and the pungent odors of horse and dung filled her with nostalgia for home. As a child, she had spent most of her time in her father’s stable—whenever she was not practicing with her weapons or tagging along behind Angus.
Erin was nowhere in sight. He was probably sleeping in the back, but Brenna was not eager to wake him, not yet. She could hardly contain her excitement as she scanned the stable for Willow. When she saw the silver-flanked mare, Brenna ran to it, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Oh, Willow, my sweet Willow. I thought to never see you again!” Brenna cried.
In truth, she had begun to doubt she would ever see anything from her home again, including her aunt and stepsister. She had asked Garrick once to take her to see them, but he had refused without explanation, and she was too proud to ask again.
Brenna hugged Willow’s neck tightly; the horse snorted and shook its head in return. “I am so glad to see you,” Brenna said softly, “that I will even forgive you for throwing me the last time I rode you. It has been hell here, but you will make it bearable.”
“Who is there?” Erin called from the back of the stable, then came forward. “Oh, ’tis you, lass. What brings you here?”
Brenna chewed her lower lip nervously. She hated to fool Erin, but she couldn’t trust her secret to anyone, not even this old man she considered her friend.
“Anselm came to the house yesterday,” Brenna finally said. “He talked long, but I did not understand anything he said. I came to ask you what he wanted.” Brenna turned to Willow again, and the joy that entered her voice was genuine. “I found my horse, Erin! What is she doing here?”
Erin chuckled, unaware of Brenna’s deception. “The filly is yours again, lass, given by Anselm himself.”
“Did he say why?”
“Nay, only that I was to be sure Garrick understood that the horse was yours, not his.”
Brenna could not suppress her laughter. “Do you think Garrick will be angry?”
“Of course he will, just as he has been angry about everything of late. I cannot guess what is the matter with that boy. He is worse now than he was a few years back, when his temper first surfaced.”
“You mean when Morna first ran off?”
“Aye.”
“Do you suppose Garrick’s foul moods are because Morna has returned?” Brenna ventured.
“Truly, I cannot say.”
Brenna understood Garrick’s harsh attitude no better than anyone else. He had not been so forbidding when she first met him. He had humor then, and teased her often. Now she never heard him laugh, and when he spoke, it was harshly. But then, he had hardly talked to her at all before he left this last time. It was as if they had begun a silent battle, speaking only with their eyes.
Brenna had hoped at first that she was the cause of his dark moods, but she could see no conceiveable reason why she would be. No, Morna was the cause, she was sure. Morna was a part of Garrick, even though he hated her now. Yet the only reason he hated her so much was because he had loved her that much. This thought disturbed Brenna greatly and she shook it off, not wanting to ponder it.
“I am going to ride my horse, Erin,” she announced with determination. “Have you any objections?”
“Nay, but—”
When he did not continue, she smiled. “Will I return?” He nodded sheepishly, and she added, “I have not been provoked to leave Garrick’s house yet.”
“But you have your horse now, and a sturdy horse she is, one you know and trust. She could take you anywhere you wanted to go.”
