Morna was beside herself with rage, and turned fiery blue eyes on Brenna. “I will have you whipped for this!”
“I think not,” Brenna replied, shocking Morna with words she could understand. “For one thing, Garrick would not allow it. But more important, and I pray you heed me well, Morna, I would cut your throat gladly before you call for a whip. You were an unwelcome guest at this feast. There is no one here who would seek out your killer.”
“You would not dare to touch me!”
Brenna smiled wickedly. “Test the truth of my words. Call for a whipping.”
Morna hesitated a moment too long. “You will rue the day you dared to threaten me when I become Garrick’s wife!”
“’Tis a day you will never see.”
“Do not be too sure, slave!” Morna snapped and stalked from the hall.
Brenna bit her lip. She should never have revealed her secret to Morna… But what if Morna’s prediction came true? To Garrick’s way of thinking, he could have them both, Morna as his wife to give him legitimate heirs, and Brenna as his concubine. Brenna actually shivered at the thought. Nay, it would not happen, she resolved. If she could not hope to become his wife herself, then she had no hope at all. Yet she had every reason to believe he cared for her.
She turned and found Garrick’s back was to her. She prayed he had not seen her talking to Morna, for then he would question her, and she would not lie to him. This might bring on his anger, which was the last thing she wanted.
She joined Garrick at the table and waited nervously for him to notice her. When he finally turned her way, she held her breath in anticipation of his questions.
“I missed you,” he said pointedly, leaning closer. “What were you about?”
“I bid Perrin farewell,” she said after a moment’s pause. When he grunted in response, she quickly changed the subject. “Will we leave soon?”
“Are you tired?”
She nodded. “It has been a long day, and I have had much too much to drink.”
He grinned devilishly. “I remember fondly another time you had too much to drink. You were most agreeable then. Are you now?”
She lowered her eyes. “Nay, Garrick.”
He ignored her answer and stood up. “Come. I have found us a place to pass the night.”
Brenna remained seated. “Are we not to go home? ’Tis only a short distance.”
“’Twould only waste time, Brenna. The horse race begins early on the morrow, and I will be here on time for it.” When she frowned, he added, “Mayhaps I will take you home on the morrow’s eve, then we will return on the day following.”
“Return?”
“Yea, this feast will continue for nearly a fortnight. Now come.”
Brenna sighed, took the hand he offered and followed him to get their cloaks. There was still much activity in the hall. Only a few had taken to benches to sleep off their sodden-ness. Heloise had retired to bed earlier, as had Linnet, but not before Brenna was able to apologize to her aunt for her unreasonable sharpness. Anselm and Hugh were still full of vigor and were involved in a serious drinking bout, with many wagering on the outcome.
Garrick bellowed his farewells, but no one paid much attention, and he quickly slipped out the door with Brenna under his arm. The icy fingers of the wind went unnoticed as Brenna snuggled in the warmth of Garrick’s closeness. She felt as if she were floating, gliding smoothly over the cold ground. As her head began to swim dizzily, she rested it on his chest and felt total contentment.
When he led her into the stable and to an empty stall where many blankets were piled on top of a bed of straw, Brenna drew away from him with slight annoyance. She watched him close them in with a large wood panel, making the stall a tiny private room.
“This is the place you spoke of?”
“’Tis the warmest I could find,” he said without looking at her, and shrugged off his cloak.
“And you expect me to sleep here?”
He ignored her indignation and grinned at her. “You will not be alone.”
“But—”
“Be quiet, wench,” he interrupted softly and came to stand before her. “This is indeed better than a hard bench in the hall. Will you not agree?”
