“He cares, Aunt, but not enough,” Brenna replied and started to walk back to the stable. “Not nearly enough.”
“Brenna, wait!” Linnet called after her. “He will ask for you. What will I tell him?”
Brenna turned and shrugged. “The truth. I have gone home and will not return. I will see him when he has had enough of revelry.”
It was a short distance from Anselm’s settlement to Garrick’s house on the cliff, but to Brenna it seemed an endless journey. She rode aimlessly for a while, brooding over Garrick’s aloof attitude.
It took several moments after she had reached the stable, before she realized that Erin was nowhere to be seen. That was a stroke of luck. Now she would not have to explain why she was alone. The house was also empty, and as cold as the outside, if not more so. Brenna did not bother to light the fires in the lower half of the house, but went straight to her room. There she sat on her bed, staring dismally at a crack in the floor.
At last anger came to the surface and slowly took hold, searching for an outlet. Brenna was beside herself with this new anger born of hurt. Since Garrick was not there for her to vent it on, she chose the next best thing—his gifts. She yanked off the two gold arm rings and threw them at the wall, but they merely fell and rattled on the floor, coming to rest undamaged. Disappointed, she started a fire, then tossed the rings into it, but the process of melting the gold was too slow and not at all satisfying. Next Brenna tore off her beautiful gown, ripping it again and again till it lay in shreds on the floor.
The sight of what her destructive actions had wrought, brought tears that stung her eyes. “’Twas too rich for a slave, so a slave should not have it!” she cried aloud. Then remorse overcame her as she thought of the kind woman who had made the gown for her. “Heloise will not be pleased.” More tears fell. “Look what you have made me do, Garrick! ’Tis your fault and no other’s,” she said childishly, then threw herself on the bed. “Damn you, Viking! I do not like this hurt I feel!”
Sleep came unexpectedly and lasted most of the afternoon. It was late when a sound outside Brenna’s door woke her. She immediately scrambled beneath her covers, hating to be found in this predicament. A second later, before she could completely hide her nakedness, her door was thrown open and Garrick bounded into the room.
His face was a mask of fury. “I did not give you leave to return here, mistress!”
“I am aware of that.”
“Yet you did as you pleased!” he shouted before his eyes fell on the ruined gown. Then he turned on her with new rage, and yanked her from the bed. “I came here to drag you back with me if necessary, but I see you have made that impossible!”
Hot color burned her cheeks as he held her cruelly before him. “’Twould not do to have a guest in your father’s house wearing coarse wool, now would it, Viking?” she taunted him with sarcasm to hide her own humiliation.
“Nay, it would not,” he answered coldly. “And since you prefer your slave’s garments, ’twill be all you will have, wench, for you will receive no more gifts from me!”
“I did not ask for any!”
He made as if to strike her, but instead shoved her away from him, and she fell back against the bed. “You will stay in this house, since ’tis where you prefer to be. I will find another to entertain me at the feast.”
His words struck her harder than his hand would have.
“Do you think I care?” she shouted, though her voice cracked with the lie.
“It matters little if you care or not,” he replied, wounding her further. “And henceforth you will abide by my rules, wench, for I am through being lenient with you.”
“What will you do, Viking?” she demanded recklessly.
“Will you take my life as carelessly as you took my love?”
He stared hard at her for a long moment, his eyes moving over her soft curves, stopping at her heaving breasts, then resting on her face, seeing her proud beauty, her defiance, her spirit. She was like a wild, untamable creature, yet vulnerable.
“Nay, I will not take your life, Brenna,” he said, deeply, thoroughly impassioned by the sight of her splendor. “I will take your love again—now.”
Before she could cry nay, he fell on her, his only effort that of lowering his breeches to unsheath his manhood, which throbbed to be inside her. Brenna was shocked and repelled by this onslaught. She was too enraged to be stirred by the rape, and fought him wildly, clawing his bare arms till blood dripped on her bed. But he did not stop or try to stay her hands, pressing on until his gift of life poured into her and he collapsed.
When he left the small bed and fastened his breeches, Brenna trembled in outrage at the way he had callously taken her with no thought for her, only his own animal needs. She would never forgive him for that.
“Remember my warning, Brenna,” he said as he crossed to the door. “Do not leave this house.”
Even now he was asserting his power over her, reminding her that she belonged to him, that she could only do what he allowed her to. He scorned her love, yet he controlled her life.
“Did you hear me, mistress?”
She glared at him with malice, her eyes dark cinders. “The devil take you, Viking! May you never find your Valhalla, but rot in hell with Loki’s daughter!”
Garrick seemed to pale. “Those are harsh words, Brenna, even spoken in anger. Another would slay you for such a curse.”
“Do so! Kill me!” she screamed. “I don’t care anymore!”
