In his vision of the way this would go, he would announce himself as he pulled her back toward him, once he had her close enough that he wouldn’t need to raise his voice. It was a sound plan.
Unfortunately, as he should have considered in dealing with this particular woman, her reaction wasn’t at all what he anticipated.
Bridget wasn’t a screamer. She was a fighter.
Her teeth clamped down hard on one of his fingers. At the same time, her free arm swung up toward his head, leaving him barely enough time to stop the wicked-looking blade she aimed directly at his face.
“By Odin,” he snarled, shoving her away from him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Wrong withme?” she hissed, stabbing her index finger into his chest. “What kind of an addle-brained thing was that to do, you great fool? Grabbing me from behind and scaring the life right out of me! Yer lucky I didn’t gut you right then and there.”
“My apologies for alarming you. It was not my intent. As a matter of fact, it was alarming you that I had hoped to avoid by my actions.”
Bridget still glared at him, but the finger poking his chest stopped. When she turned from him she muttered something that sounded very much likewitless turdling,but he chose to let the insult go unchallenged.
In hindsight, he could see that Bridget was right. Not about the gutting, of course; he was never in any danger of that. But he did recognize how his actions had been so easily misinterpreted.
He wouldn’t fight with her now. They had too much to do. He’d found her, safe and sound, and that was what really mattered. If all went well, they’d have more than enough time for arguing later. He looked forward to it, in fact.
“I see you’ve come alone. What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her as if to completely shut him out.
“This,” he answered, and pulled the ruby along with a thin leather strap from his bag. “This is what I’m doing.”
While she watched without comment, he tied the strap around the middle of the jewel and then wrapped it around the other direction end to end before tying it again. After ensuring his makeshift necklace was securely knotted, he held it out and dropped it down over her head.
“What’s this for?” she asked, followed by a little gasp of recognition. “It’s one of the jewels we recovered. Why are you giving it to me?”
“For protection.” Though it wouldn’t work for long, should the essence of the Beast attack, it might give her enough time to escape. “And I’m not alone. Eric, your brother, his friends, all of them are positioned around Tordenet right now, each of them carrying one of the jewels.”
“Little good the jewels will do them if we canna get inside to confront the Beast. And with only the five of you, yer no likely to meet with success in storming the front gates. So why aren’t they here with you, waiting for dark to hunt for the hidden entrance?”
“Because we don’t need to go inside. Fenrir will come out to us.”
Bridget looked skeptical. “I find that hard to believe. It would be a far wiser strategy to remain behind the walls of Tordenet. And the Beast, foul as he is, strikes me as being at least as smart as I am.”
“Likely much smarter.” Fenrir had a millennia of experience that Bridget didn’t have. “But every living creature has a vulnerability of some kind. An enemy has but to find that weakness and exploit it. In Fenrir’s case, he can’t bear to be separated from the flow of his Magic. It is as life and breath to him. It drives him in all he does.”
Though it was clear Bridget still doubted him, she was at least listening. “Assuming I accept yer story as truth, how would we manage to exploit this vulnerability you claim he has?”
“We’ve already begun. With the jewel you wear and its four companions, we’ve formed a ring around Tordenet. A ring that effectively blocks the flow of Magic into the castle. Fenrir will have no choice but to leave the protection of the castle walls, seeking that which he must have. And when he does, I’ll be waiting for him outside the front gates with the Sword of the Ancients in my hands and the Elven Scrolls of Niflheim at the ready.”
Bridget’s gaze shifted to her horse and back, a quick little movement that signaled her thoughts as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud.
Sure enough, the Sword of the Ancients hung from her saddle, its hilt peeking out of the sheath that sheltered the weapon.
“I canna allow you to do that, Hall. For one thing, yer no safe anywhere near that damned sword. We saw all too well what it can do to you. And I ken from experience that it’s no the same danger to me.”
“I’ll handle it with caution.” How stupid did she think he was? That he’d carelessly risk another encounter with that deadly blade?
“For another thing,” she continued, shifting her feet as she glanced quickly to her horse and back again, “wielding this blade is my right. Justice is my right to serve upon Torquil MacDowylt and the Beast. I will not let this opportunity slip through my fingers. No even for you.”
“I understand your feelings.” Hall glanced toward Bridget’s horse, estimating which of them could reach the animal first. “And you already know that I respect your abilities as a warrior. But...”
She simply wouldn’t understand why he couldn’t allow her to carry on with her quest for revenge. She might well have few equals on the field of battle, but none of that mattered to him right now. All that mattered was that he would not allow her to risk her life.
“There’s always abut,aye?” Bridget smiled, inching closer to the spot where he stood. The spot between her and her mount. When she reached his side, she reached out to caress his cheek with her cold palm, her expression unreadable. “You disappoint me, Hall. In spite of everything, when it comes down to it, yer no so very different from Jamesy or my uncle. You all picture me spending my days before some man’s hearth, cooking his meals, raising his children.”
“Never,” he denied truthfully. The idea of her as some other man’s wife was intolerable to him. Instead of telling her that, he grinned. “Your food would be the death of this imaginary man long before you had any children.”
