“Yourfriendwill bring about your death!” Brenna warned, grasping at anything to make him see reason.
“There is little truth in what you say, for Garrick Haardrad will not look for you here. And if he ever does, ’twill be too late, for by then Cedric will have had enough of you and you will be sold away from here. Know this, wench. My loyalty is to Cedric and his family. I farm on their land. I am vassal to Cedric’s father, Latham Borgsen. What you ask would get my throat cut sooner than your master would.”
“Then take me to your liege. By your own words, I know he will not approve what you have done.”
“Enough!”
Brenna steeled herself for one last try. “Please.”
She humbled herself uselessly, for Arno stalked from the room, leaving her exhausted from trying and devastated at failing. When Arno returned, Brenna was silent once again. He did not attempt to change that. Then Cedric finally came, a little past midday.
From the moment he walked into the room, Brenna felt as if she was the long-awaited meal caught by the starving beast. Cedric’s eyes did not leave her. His lustful intentions were so obvious that Arno was reluctant to demand an explanation of his absence, and looked away in embarrassment.
Cedric removed his cloak and Brenna’s eyes were drawn to his bare arms bulging with muscle, and covered with scars. There was strength there, and Brenna knew the power of a man bent on having her, especially a man with strength. What chance did she have? But then, she had never wanted to kill Garrick, not even in the beginning. This man, yea, this man she could kill with no regrets.
“Has my pretty prize given you trouble?” Cedric asked Arno, though his eyes were still on Brenna.
“Not until this day.”
“Oh?”
“She speaks our tongue, Cedric, and very well.”
“Is this so, wench?”
Brenna did not answer, but moved closer to her temporary bed, where her one hope lay hidden. She must be in control of the dreaded situation when it finally came.
“She also knows us by name,” Arno continued. “If Haardrad ever finds her, she will tell him all. I told you we should never have taken her.”
“You sound worried, when there is no need. He will never find her.”
“Will you sell her soon?”
“Nay, I think not. If Haardrad does look for her here, we will kill him. ’Tis that simple.”
“Have you lost your senses, Cedric?”
“Enough! I have been delayed long enough by my father sending me on fool errands to collect a prized horse he bought from his cousin. The whole time I thought of naught else but her and I will wait no longer to have her.” Suddenly he laughed. “Will you stay and watch, Arno? Or is it not time you paid your respects to my father?”
Arno glared at Cedric, then looked at Brenna and saw her silent plea for help, but he quickly turned away. In exasperation, he stormed from the room, slamming the door soundly in his wake.
The closing of that door was so final, yet Brenna had expected no less. Arno was a man torn between his loyalties and what he felt in his heart. Unfortunately for Brenna, his loyalties came first. That was the way with all Vikings.
Now the test began. Brenna would either leave here with blood on her hands, or be violated by this young bastard and forever lose the hope of Garrick’s love. Garrick was no different than other men, unwilling to share what they claimed as their own. He had proved that where she was concerned. He would never forgive her, even though she was blameless. How unfair was the judgment of men.
Still, it had not happened yet, though the moment was definitely at hand. Cedric moved in closer, slowly, like a snake about to strike.
“Come now, my pretty,” he said cajolingly. “You speak my tongue. You know what I want.”
She said not a word, but her eyes spoke for her. Dark, smoky gray eyes relayed her disgust and loathing, her profound contempt. Yet he was not daunted, not even surprised.
“Will you fight me, then?” he raised a brow, his lips curling repulsively. “I do not mind, wench. I am sure you put up an admirable struggle when you were a maid first taken, but you have naught to defend now. If you prefer to pretend the virgin still, ’tis fine with me.”
Brenna could not contain her disgust any longer. “Loathsome pig!” she hissed. “If you touch me you will not live long to regret it!”
He laughed at her warning. “I will regret naught, but relish the touching. Do you truly believe your master will come bounding through that door to prevent me from having you? Nay, wench, there will be none here to stop me.”
Brenna wisely held her tongue. Let him think she was helpless. Let him fall into her trap unawares. It would be her only chance.
