He inched forward, and she nearly stumbled back down the steps.Her heart picked up while she took the time to study him properly.Barbarian.The word rang through her mind again.Every part of him screamedsavagefrom his meaty fists, to his lecherous gaze, to his roughly sewn garments.Even the clear blue of his eyes and the attractive set of his nose could do nothing to cover the intention behind those features.
“If you were mine, I would not see you working so.Instead, I would install you in my bed and use you at my leisure.”
“’Tis a fine thing I am no’ yers then, for I would rather scrub a thousand floors.”
“I have many slaves, but none quite like you.”He reached out and fingered a lock of hair.
Lorna had to prevent herself from recoiling, lest she tumble backward down the stairs and cause herself harm.Instead she drew in a breath.“I am no’ a slave.Just a prisoner.But before long I shall be free and ye shall regret ever laying a hand on me.”
His lips quirked in amusement and he brought his hand up to stroke her head, as if patting an animal or small child.“I like your spirit and you arevakker, in a small, sweet sort of way.You would look fine atop my furs.”
“Perhaps so, but ye shall never know,” she responded with a smug smile.
The hand on her head curled into her hair, grasping it and tugging it until her scalp burned.She gasped as he drew her into him.“The laird will do anything to keep me happy.Including giving you to me.”
“I am not his to give!”she declared, earning another sharp tug on her hair.
Ivar pulled her head to his chest and sniffed her hair before thrusting her back.She grappled on his arm to stop herself from tumbling and managed to right herself.
“You would do better to try to please me.Once this battle is over, the Norse shall dominate much of Scotland.Before long, we shall have complete power.And I shall take you as my slave so you can see me slay your family and rule over your people.”
Licking her dry lips, Lorna contemplated a response—trying to decide if he might hurt her again should she spit out any more words—but they were interrupted by the trudge of feet.Logan led two other men past their position.He flicked a dismissive glance her way, then his gaze landed on Ivar and hardened.The two men-at-arms paused to eye her and Logan motioned for them to follow.
“Keep moving,” he barked.“Ye have work to do.”
They watched him walk past.Her heart ached with every beat of his boots while he walked away from her as if she was nothing, no one.Lorna glanced up at Ivar, her throat dry.Logan was not going to come to her rescue.Mayhap she had to resign herself to the fact Logan would never be the man he once was.
“Ye cannae have me,” she whispered, eyes cast down.
Ivar chuckled and snatched her hair again.She squeaked and fought against his hold, but the burning sensation in her scalp made her eyes water.He dragged her to the castle, hauled her up the stairs and led her to stand in front of the top table.She tried to tear away but his grip was too strong and painful.
Standing with her head at an angle, she spat words at Ivar.“Release me, yebuthaigir duine.”
“What is this?”From under the hair that fell across her face, she could make out Gillean’s raised brow of surprise.
“I have a bargain to make with you, Gillean.Once the battle is done, this woman is mine.
Gillean laughed.“I am giving ye my men, my arms, my loyalty.What more do ye need?”
“I want this woman.If you want my men to aid you, give me her once the battle is done.You have no need for her once your enemies are slain.”
Lorna peered at the laird through her hair and made another futile swipe at the Norseman.The ache in her head was muddling her thoughts, and tears dripped down her face at the sting in her scalp.
The laird remained silent.Even those around them had stilled.No clatter of knives or shuffle of feet sounded.Only her pulse throbbed in her ears like the beating of a drum.
“Well?”Ivar prompted.
“Fine.”
Lorna’s heart sank to her toes.Her fate had been undecided until now but to be given to a Viking...it was worse than any of her imaginings.A slave.She’d have no rights, no hope.He could do with her as he wished.Even being the chattel to her husband was a better life.
“After the battle, mind,” Gillean continued.“I need her for now.Should her clan decide to come for her, I need leverage.”
She caught the cold glint to his gaze and if it had been possible, her heart would have dropped out of her toes and melted onto the floor.Despair struck her deep and strong.She had to escape.If this Viking took her, she’d never see Ewan again, and if Gillean succeeded in his battle plans, her family was in grave danger.
She had to escape.Somehow.
***
