“So it’s a witch we’re off to see, is it?”
Christiana blinked several times as if she tried to process the question. Whether it was the words themselves that surprised her or Halldor’s speaking in the first place, Chase couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of was that she wrestled with her answer before responding.
“Orabilis is no witch, no matter what Ulfr or others might say. She’s but a wise woman, a healer.” She stopped, like a woman who’d said her piece, her lips drawn into a thin, straight line. Then, with a deep breath, she lifted her chin as if daring them to argue with her and continued. “She is also perhaps the kindest, most intelligent person I have ever known in the whole of my life.”
“As you’d have it, my lady.” Halldor dipped his head respectfully. “Though there’s naught in your words to refute her being a witch.”
“Is it no enough that I vouch for her? That I tell you there’s no reason to fear her? Have I given youany reason to doubt that I speak the truth?” The color on Christiana’s cheeks deepened.
“Let it go,” Chase cautioned his friend before turning to face Christiana. “We are more than satisfied that you speak the truth.”
It was obvious that the woman was already upset enough without Halldor carrying on about witches, of all things. Though, in the man’s defense, Chase was hardly in any position to pass judgment on whatever fantasies his friend might believe to be true. He was living proof that real life actually did harbor a host of the bizarre and unusual.
“Apologies, my lady.” Halldor dipped his head once more. “It was not my intent to question the truth of your words. It’s only that you defend this woman as if being a witch is a bad thing. It’s not. They have their own roles to play in the web the Norns have woven for us. I’ve no fear of them, only a healthy respect.”
Chase cast an annoyed glance to his friend, preparing himself for Christiana’s angry response.
Instead, she surprised him with a small smile. “Yer words sound like something my father might have said. I’d offer up my own apologies for making assumptions without first listening. It’s only that Orabilis is—”
Her words were cut short by Ulfr calling out to Chase and Halldor as he approached them.
“Mount up and lead the lady’s wagon around to the door of the kitchen’s storeroom. It seems we’ll be adding barrels to our wagon.”
Every trace of Christiana’s smile disappeared, her chin once again lifted defiantly. “Four barrels in total?” she asked.
“Four barrels in total,” Ulfr confirmed, reaching for his horse’s reins. Turning his back to them, he led the way without waiting for further comment.
Christiana placed one foot upon the step of the wagon and Chase was instantly at her side, his hands around her waist to lift her up. No sooner had his fingers grazed against the cloth of her gown than a bolt of excitement shot through him, setting his heart pounding.
Beneath his touch she tensed, turning her head to look up into his eyes. She placed a hand on his forearm as he lifted, and time seemed to stop as her face came level with his. Her lips, parted and inviting, were so close he needed only to dip his head a fraction of an inch to capture them as he’d wanted to from the first moment he’d seen her.
Behind him, Halldor cleared his throat, breaking the spell.
Chase hoisted her up into the wagon and, as soon as she took her seat, he stepped quickly away, his breath coming in short, ragged pants. The urge to hold her close was so strong, he’d had to make himself release his grip on her. Forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand, he did his best topush the feelings away as he climbed onto his horse, but they were too strong to be ignored.
Un-freaking-believable.
It was need that overwhelmed him. Need, pure and simple, and every bit as vivid as if he were caught in another dream of her.
OceanofPDF.com
Thirteen
WHAT ARE WEto do with her?”
Brie backed against the side of the Tinklers’ wagon, refusing to cower before the people gathered around her. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, meeting their accusing stares. She’d known this moment would come, when they’d discover she’d hidden herself in their wagon and confronted her for her actions.
But knowing didn’t make it any easier. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that pitiful little minstrel dancer had been frightened enough to jump from the wagon and hurt herself.
“Return her. She belongs to the MacGahan.”
Brie cut her eyes to the woman who’d spoken and the woman took a step away. As she should. Brie belonged to none save her own self.
“There’s no silver to be made in backtracking. I say we leave her here and go on,” one of the minstrels said.
Not exactly a caring man, that one. And peopleclaimed it was the Tinklers who were not to be trusted.
“I say we punish her.” The minstrel girl sat on the ground several feet away, her eyes wet with tears, a cold, wet cloth held to her face. “Beat her with a stick and leave her here by the side of the road.”
