“Are you sure, Brenna?”
“I know what I feel, Garrick. I am most sure.”
“Then you will give me your word that you will never run away from me again?”
His question surprised her somewhat, but she answered readily, “You have my word.”
“Good. This has been a remarkable day that I will not soon forget.”
He rolled to her side, and Brenna lay with her eyes open wide in disbelief. When no further words from him were forthcoming, she propped herself up on an elbow and faced him.
“Is that all you have to say to me, Garrick?”
“I am pleased that you have softened to me, Brenna,” he replied, then turned his back to her. “’Tis late and I am tired. Go to sleep.”
His words were like a physical blow. He said naught of returning her love, only that he was pleased thatshehad softened to him. She stared blankly at his hard back. “Methinks I have given you more pleasure than you deserve this night.”
“Eh?”
Garrick’s back remained to her and suddenly Brenna saw red, blind red fury. She shoved him forcefully, gaining his attention again.
“I would know your intentions, Garrick. Will you wed me?”
He frowned at her. “A Viking cannot wed a slave. You know that.”
“Your father would free me! You can free me!”
“Nay, wench, ’twould serve no purpose. I will not wed you. If I set you free, I would lose you.” Then he tried to calm her. “As my slave I will keep you always, Brenna. You will be like my wife.”
“Until I am old!” she snapped. “Then you will put me out to pasture as you would a mare!”
“’Twould not be that way.”
“Words, Viking!” she cried, pain making her unreasonable. “If you know me at all, you know that I have more pride than most. I can never come to you freely without sacred vows between us. You are the only man I will wed. If you refuse, I will never be content.”
“You will in time.”
“In time my love will die through bitterness. Do you not see that?”
“You ask too much, woman!” he said curtly. “I have sworn never to wed!”
“Or to love?”
“There is no love in me. It was destroyed long ago.” He took her hand and held it tightly. “But ’tis you I come to, Brenna,” he said, his voice soft again. “’Tis you I care about above all others. I can give you no more than that.”
“But you can change.”
He shook his head slowly. “I am sorry, Brenna.”
“So am I,” she murmured and added to herself, “for you give me no hope, Garrick.”
Pain and regret brought tears to her eyes and she turned away from him to hide her misery and spill her tears silently.
The stars of early morning were sprinkled across the black sky. A lone woman hurried furtively down the fjord where two small canoes were tied to a wooden landing. The fjord was calm, cast in murky shadows, and the woman shivered and pulled her cloak tighter about her.
She quickly untied one of the small fishing crafts and jumped inside. In a second it floated slowly away from the landing. She grasped the oars and they sliced through the water. Time to change her mind was swiftly fleeing.
The plan that had come to her the night before was daring enough, but dangerous. Her destination was the opposite bank of the fjord and the Borgsen settlement. Because she lived on the north side of the fjord, they would consider her their enemy. She hoped that a fat purse would make them forget that. She knew no one here who would do what she wanted—but a Borgsen would. At least that was what she was counting on.
