Garrick said nothing, but smiled at her and helped her out of her shift, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He set her down gently, and laid by her side. Then she felt his hands on her, surprisingly tender for one so powerfully strong. He caressed her intimately, his fingers doing strange and wonderful things to her.
“You can be as sweet as honey when you want to,” Garrick said huskily, his lips brushing against hers.
“As can you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his wavy hair.
“My Celtic beauty,” he murmured, running a hand up over her belly. His lips descended to her breasts. The sensations tingling through her made her weak, but still she tried to resist him, though feebly. When she brought her knees up, he stilled them with one leg. When her nails dug into his shoulders, he withstood the pain and instead of securing her hands, he kissed her, a wildly savage kiss that seemed to suck away the last remnants of her will and blot all else from her mind.
All that mattered was Garrick, his kiss, his hands caressing her urgently, his body as it pressed closer, on top of her now, his warm, throbbing member probing for an entrance, finding it at last, and then that first exquisite thrust, which drove Brenna to distraction.
She called out his name again and again as he moved in her, holding him to her as if she would mold his body forever to hers. She kissed his neck, his cheek, his lips, with wild abandon. Then all sensation gathered into her lower region, closing around his swollen member with his final deep thrust. A moment later, she felt a delicious throbbing of her own.
Having reached the heights of pleasure, Brenna succumbed immediately to the effects of the wine and lovemaking. She slept, not even stirring when Garrick rolled away from her to fetch a cover. Then he lay beside her on his belly. Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched her for a long while as she slept, his expression unusually tender. Finally he threw an arm over her possessively and fell fast asleep himself.
The noise of a fight woke Brenna from a sound sleep. Seeing that she was alone, she jumped out of bed and grabbed the first thing at hand, Garrick’s white silk robe, and donned it even as she ran from the room. The robe barely reached her knees, but she was not concerned with her appearance.
At the bottom of the stairs, she hid in the shadows and observed the scene in the hall with growing alarm. Both long tables were turned over; benches were broken into pieces. The large cauldrons of mead had spilled onto the floor along with the remains of a morning meal.
Brenna’s eyes scanned the room frantically. Several men were lying unconscious or dead on the floor. Some were fighting fist to fist, others with sword or axe. How in heaven’s name could a brawl like this happen so early in the day? And where, dear Lord, was Garrick?
Quickly her eyes searched further until they lighted on Hugh, sitting on a bench against the wall. He was holding a swollen jaw with one hand, yet chuckling with a companion on the floor. Brenna looked down and gasped. Garrick was sprawled on the floor, with one arm resting on the bench. Her eyes saw nothing but the bright red blood splattered all over his fawn-colored tunic and trousers.
In a moment of anxiety, Brenna forget everything else and ran to Garrick. He had been laughing over something Hugh had said, but when Brenna reached him and knelt by his side, the laughter died. He turned to her in astonishment, and then anger took hold and his furious glare made her flinch.
“Have you no shame, woman?” he asked her harshly, grabbing her arm in a painful grip. “What is the meaning of this?”
She had no idea what he was talking about. “You are hurt.”
“Nay!” he growled. “But were I dying ’twould not be cause for you to come before these men dressed as you are. Leave here before bloodlust turns to pure lust!”
She glanced nervously about her and saw that many had stopped fighting and were staring at her. With her unbound hair flowing about her shoulders in disarray, and the deep V of the robe nearly exposing her breasts, she presented a very tempting picture.
“I did not think, Garrick” she murmured, her face reddening. “I wanted only to help you.”
“You never think, mistress!” he said cruelly, shoving her away from him. “Now get from this hall!”
Brenna bit her lip to still the trembling of it. She felt a knot swell in her throat and nearly choke her, and tears glistened in her eyes. She ran quickly from the hall before the tears fell and she was further shamed.
She would not think of last night. Brenna ran into the sewing room and slammed the door shut, then fell on the pile of furs and gave way to a torrent of tears. But after a few moments she wiped viciously at her eyes.
“I never cried,” she hissed aloud, “until I met him! No more tears will I shed for any reason. If he can abuse me like that when I only wanted to help him, the devil take him! I will not be here for it to happen again!”
Brenna dug into the furs and pulled out the sack she had hidden there just last night. She had not dreamed she would need her stolen articles this soon, but neither had she imagined Garrick could be so heartless.
She dressed slowly in her own fine clothes, reveling in the feel of the rich black velvet against her skin. Donned in her male apparel, her hurt pride healed somewhat. Her confidence was restored, and she felt as if she could accomplish anything. She stuck the sword through her belt and stuffed her sack with extra furs and leather straps to make leggings and coverings for her hands later on. Then she went into Garrick’s room and took the extra blanket from his bed.
Wearing her cape to conceal her apparel, she made her way to the upstairs door but nearly tripped over Dog, who was sleeping there. Brenna knelt and tickled the shepherd’s ears.
“Did he banish you from the hall also?” The animal licked her hand. “Never mind, old friend. Have you been out yet this morn?”
She opened the door and Dog followed her out into the crisp late-morning air. She was learning to judge the time of day by the stars. Strange to call it morning when the sky was so dark. Perhaps on the tip of southern Norway, the sun was lighting the land, but up here, further north, the sun only teased the horizon near midday, turning the sky a dusky blue.
Brenna slowly approached the open door to the cooking area, but Dog charged right in to scavenge for food. When Brenna saw that only Maudya was at the table, chopping onions for a soup, she came halfway into the room.
“Have you a loaf of bread I can take with me?”
Maudya looked up in surprise. “Aye, but where are you off to? There is much work to be done. They made a fine mess earlier that needs cleaning.”
Brenna could hear laughter from the hall. “So the brawling is over? What was the cause, do you know?”
