“You will be married, Brenna. Your father has given his word.”
Linnet came from a great distance, walking slowly toward Brenna out of the dark. Finally the woman reached her. Her face was tired and sad as she pulled Brenna out of the freezing water and began to wrap blanket after blanket about Brenna’s shoulders until the girl felt as if she would suffocate in the warmth.
“Angus is dead, Brenna.”
“Nay!” Brenna screamed in agony. “My father cannot die! It is not so!”
The village was weeping. Angus was laid to rest. The sun was not up yet, but it seemed terribly hot for so early in the morning.
“The Vikings come, Lady Brenna.”
“Wyndham! Is this the way your kinsmen come for a bride? To attack and kill? Alane, no! You must not die too! I cannot help you, Aunt Linnet. He has broken my sword. I cannot help any of you. I will kill him for what he has done to my people, I swear!”
“I am Heloise, wife to Anselm. You will be given to my son Garrick.”
“I will not be owned!”
“Have I found the means to tame you, wench?”
“He will rape me. My God, how will I endure the agony Cordella said I would feel? Where is the pain? Cordella lied! She made me show fear to the Viking when there was no need. But ’twas beautiful. He is beautiful. Such a magnificent body, so much power and strength. He makes me forget that I hate him. He makes my will his own.”
Laughter came from far away. Cordella and Yarmille laughing. Anselm and Hugh laughing.
“He is a beast! He cares naught for me. How could he abuse me so before his guests? I am free of him now. He will never find me. I could not have stayed with him any longer, not when his touch turns me to honey.”
Swords clanging together. The noise was deafening, and hurt her ears, finally she screamed.
“I cannot kill you, Garrick, even for my freedom. I do not know why, but the thought of you dead hurts so terribly.”
Brenna trembled. “I am so cold. I am ill and he does not even know it. He will be sorry when he finds me dead. How could he do this to me after I saved his life? ’Tis so cold, so cold.”
“Yarmille, close the door before…before…”
Brenna floated in the warm lake, her eyes closed to the welcome sun. Not a care creased her brow. Not a thought disturbed her peace, gently floating, the warm water a natural balm.
She awoke and the warm lake was replaced by a soft bed which felt uncommonly hard for some reason. She blinked her eyes several times before she recognized Garrick’s room, then turned her head to find him sitting beside the bed in one of the thronelike chairs, looking terribly haggard and unkempt. Yet he was smiling at her. And his eyes were warm.
“You do not look well, Garrick. Have you been ill?”
He laughed at her concern. “Nay, wench, I am fine. But how do you feel?”
She tried to sit up, but groaned. “I feel sore all over, as if someone took a stick to me.” She glanced at him suspiciously. “Did you beat me while I slept?”
He looked affronted. “How could you think such a thing? You have been gravely ill for two days. ’Tis no doubt the sickness that has made you weak and sore.” He got up and pulled the covers up about her neck. “The women have kept soup warmed for when you woke. I will bring you some.”
Brenna relaxed in the big bed when he left. Is he sorry? He shows concern, but does he really care?
She could not wait for the food. Sleep took hold again and pressed her into peaceful darkness before he returned.
The last month of the year was a bitterly cold one, bringing snow and ice to the land in abundance. Brenna spent a good deal of the month in bed, having her every need pampered by Janie and Maudya. Even Rayna grudgingly brought her a special soup full of herbs known for their healing powers.
The women served Brenna eagerly. She was one of them, one who had narrowly escaped death. Yet she was also the master’s favorite, which became more apparent every day, though Brenna did not see it so.
When Garrick finally pronounced her well enough to return to her chores and her own room, Brenna was hard pressed to hide her relief. However, the most strenuous task she was allowed to perform was to baste the hind quarter of a small boar with honey, and she was thoroughly annoyed that she was still being cosseted by the other servants, under Garrick’s orders.
Brenna threw open the door to Garrick’s chamber without knocking. He looked up from his evening meal, more startled by her presence in his room than by the loud banging of the door. He ignored her rigid stance and the stormy gray of her eyes and continued eating.
“You should be abed, mistress,” he said sternly, without looking at her. “You have no doubt had a trying day and need your rest.”
