Authors: Phoebe Conn
After two ample meals, Berit was again strong enough to ride, and eager for a tour of the house she had only been able to glimpse through the trees. She chatted happily with her companions as they walked toward the stable, her spirits high now that she had escaped her mother’s domination. She had found her Aunt Freya, while deeply distressed by her situation, so sympathetic and understanding that she knew she would be content in her home until she and Erik were allowed to marry.
For appearances’ sake, Dana had greeted everyone happily that morning, but in truth, she was far from pleased with the prospects for the day. When she saw Brendan waiting with the horses, she sent him a questioning glance, for despite her painful doubts, she desperately wanted to believe he would have a reasonable excuse for not meeting her. His sly smirk merely confused her, though, and with Jarald constantly at her side she feared she would have a long wait before having an opportunity to question the Celt.
As Brendan led Dawn’s Kiss over to Dana, he noticed the shadows beneath her eyes and concluded Jarald must have kept her up quite late. He then wondered if they had had that private conversation about him she had mentioned. He thought he might have a chance to ask as he helped her mount her mare, but Jarald cut in front of him and grabbed the reins. Rather than offer his hands as a convenient step, the solidly built man simply gripped Dana’s tiny waist and swung her up into her saddle. Without pausing to draw a breath, or needing to, he thoughtfully plunked Thora on Rascal’s back before striding over to his stallion.
Brendan knew that the demonstration of strength had been meant for the red-haired sisters’ benefit rather than his own, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the ease with which Jarald had accomplished it. The man was large, but obviously that was due to massive muscles rather than dense layers of fat. Cautious rather than envious, Brendan vowed once again not to cross the stocky Dane unless he had a sword in his hand.
Dana was as frustrated as Brendan when Jarald brushed him aside. She considered it merely another example of the possessiveness she abhorred. She had dressed in cream and beige that morning, the subdued colors of her attire chosen to match her mood, but now she wished she had selected garments of a brighter hue to lift her spirits. She had not been able to shake the painful anxiety her solitary midnight vigil had created, and being forced to endure Jarald’s company when it was Brendan’s she craved only deepened her depression. With Thora on her right and her amorous suitor on her left, she felt trapped in a role she had no wish to play, but for the moment she had accepted the sorry fact that she had no other choice.
Pride and a tinge of apprehension filled Freya’s expression as she stood at the doorway of her home to wave good-bye. It seemed as though only yesterday her children had been small. Now Svien was grown, Dana was a lovely young woman, and Soren had displayed more in the way of manly ambition of late than she had ever hoped he might possess. Only Thora was a child still, yet she had intelligence and insight far beyond her years.
Enjoying the warmth of the sun, Freya felt stronger than she had in a week. With hope lifting her spirits, she strolled over to the dairy barn to speak with the women working there. It had been awhile since she had seen them, and she didn’t want them to think their work was not appreciated.
As they traversed the path to the woods, Dana paid scant attention to Jarald’s conversation. It wasn’t until he began to compare their fields to his own, which he claimed were not only of greater size, but also far more productive, that she became sufficiently interested to comment.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you boast to my father that you are a better farmer than he, Jarald,” Dana remarked with a sweet smile that belied her scathing intent.
Taken aback by the challenge, Jarald relied on hearty chuckles to gain him the time to formulate a suitable reply. “I was not comparing myself to him, but merely my fields to his,” he finally exclaimed proudly.
“Perhaps he would understand the difference,” Dana replied smoothly, “but, alas, I do not.”
Fearing he had insulted her, Jarald doubled his efforts to be charming. Rather than continue to discuss farming, he began a detailed and, in his opinion, fascinating account of his recent voyage. Dana made a polite comment here and there, and encouraged by what he mistook for rapt interest, he embellished the colorful description of his adventure all the more.
Brendan and Soren were riding behind Thora, Dana, and her talkative companion. While the Celt could not overhear their conversation, he also mistook Dana’s frequent glances in the burly Dane’s direction as an indication of her interest. According to Thora, Jarald was rich, and he certainly had the size and strength to protect the beautiful young woman he had given every indication he intended to wed.
Brendan kept reminding himself that from now on his only feelings for Dana would be the virulent hatred a slave naturally harbors for his mistress, but that did not prevent him from being curious about her. Finally he asked Soren what he knew about his sister’s plans.
Too concerned with his own problems to have much interest in the men vying for Dana’s hand, Soren shrugged as he replied, “Jarald is far more persistent than any of the others, so I think one day they’ll marry.”
“What others?” Brendan asked, inordinately pleased by the thought he had succeeded in becoming her first lover when apparently a great many Danes had failed in that quest. Knowing she would no longer be regarded as a great prize, were that fact common knowledge, also gave him a perverse sense of pride.
Soren supplied a rather lengthy list, and then after a slight pause added several more names. “Dana’s a beauty, and our family is a proud one, so naturally she has received many proposals. Isn’t it the same in your land?”
“Of course, I’m certain a woman of wealth and beauty is prized everywhere,” Brendan admitted grudgingly. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if Dana had discouraged the attentions of other men because she favored Jarald. Or was Jarald merely the latest man to attempt to win her heart? “Probably an impossible feat,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Don’t you want them to marry?” Soren inquired.
Afraid he had been overheard, Brendan voiced his true sentiments with a sarcastic sneer. “Why should I care what they do?”
“Because Jarald said he would give you to Dana for a wedding gift, and I think she would see you got your freedom.”
Not enjoying the turn their conversation had taken, Brendan’s mood darkened even more. “Unless you know that for a fact, you shouldn’t mention it, Soren, for I don’t take lightly to being called Jørn’s property.”
“Well, it’s plain to me you and Dana get along so poorly she would set you free just to be rid of you.”
While he considered that an insulting opinion, Brendan was still eager to learn what the boy knew for certain and what was merely imaginative speculation. Unfortunately, Thora rode back to join them then, and the chance was lost.
“What’s the matter, Thora?” Soren teased. “Don’t you find Jarald’s stories amusing?”
The little girl made a face at her brother, but clearly he had guessed the truth and Brendan hoped Dana found Jarald’s company even more tiresome than Thora had. He wanted her to suffer in every way possible, and while he knew she would not actually die of boredom, he hoped it caused her considerable pain.
When they reached the new house, Jarald seemed genuinely impressed with the fine structure that was steadily taking shape. Grateful something new had caught his attention, Dana took Thora’s hand and fell behind while Erik and Berit continued to walk with Jarald and explain their plans. Brendan and Soren had already pulled off their kirtles and joined the builders, but when Dana caught his eye, the Celt reluctantly responded to her silent summons.
“There are some pretty flowers blooming by the stream, Thora. Why don’t you pick some to take back to your mother?” Brendan suggested with an inviting smile, and eager to collect an armful, the little girl bounded off.
“That was very clever of you,” Dana complimented sincerely. “Couldn’t you find any way to get away last night?”
“Last night?” Brendan asked innocently, as though he had no idea what she meant.
Dana glanced over her shoulder to make certain Jarald was still occupied with her half brother and cousin before she hurriedly answered Brendan’s question. “Yes, last night. It was a matter of trust, as I recall. I said I would be there, and I was. I knew you were furious about my father’s voyage to Erin, but I wanted to at least try and allay your fears. What happened to you?”
The first flames of anger already glowed in her violet eyes, giving her a sultry gaze Brendan still found appealing, but he forced himself to ignore it. He had been quite proud of himself for staying away, and he hoped Dana had been thoroughly miserable as she had paced the clearing with that restless stride of hers. He thought it a pity he had to keep an eye on Jarald while they spoke, so he wasn’t able to gauge the effect of his words in her expression.
“We had made our plans before we knew of Jarald’s arrival. That changed everything for me. You’ll have to content yourself with his attentions from now on because I can’t look at you without remembering where your menfolk have gone, and I’ll not betray my own kind by lying with you. Sleep with Jarald if you’re lonely. He’s obviously eager to bed you.” Brendan held his breath as he awaited her response, and when Dana didn’t erupt in a shrieking fit of name-calling, he risked looking down at her.
A look of astonished disbelief filled Dana’s expression as she replied in a bitter hiss, “I can understand why you would worry about the purpose of my father’s voyage, but how can you be so incredibly stupid as to think I would ever stoop to inviting Jarald to my bed? Have you lost your senses completely?” Moving a step closer, she struck his bare chest with a tightly clenched fist. “You will meet me tonight, and you will not keep me waiting or you will spend the rest of the summer locked up with the furs with no more than bread and water.”
Brendan’s gaze was every bit as hostile as Dana’s. There was nothing he could do to protect his people from Haakon, but the sudden realization that he had already disgraced the wealthy Dane’s daughter by stealing her virtue prompted him to agree to her demand. “Yes, mistress,” he responded sarcastically, not wanting her to suspect he had given in willingly.
Dana was certain she had won an important concession from him, but rather than gloat, she merely nodded slightly before turning away to join Thora by the stream. Love was not supposed to hurt so badly, she told herself, but she knew what was wrong: she had fallen in love with the wrong man. Brendan was an arrogant, thick-headed Celt who would cause her nothing but grief. That was so horrible a mistake she didn’t think she could ever correct it, but she would not allow him to hate her out of the mistaken belief her father was ravaging his home when she was positive Haakon’s riches had all been earned through honest trade. It was a matter of honor that she defend her father’s reputation, and she would not give up until Brendan understood the truth about him.
Jarald glanced Dana’s way in time to see the fierceness of her expression as she turned away from Jørn’s thrall. He had always considered her a serious young woman, not one given to frequent bursts of giggles as Berit was, but he could not imagine why she would have been speaking to the slave or seem so desperately determined as a result.
Dana was delightfully complex, but that was precisely why he had chosen her for his wife. While he harbored no illusions that she loved him, he was confident that in time she would. She was affectionate with her parents and brothers and sister, if not with him, but he knew his loving would please her so greatly she would soon come to adore him as Freya did Haakon. His present problem was how to gain her consent for their marriage, however, and he didn’t want to have to vie for her attentions with the likes of a thrall, even a passably handsome one.
A slow smile raised the ends of his mustache as he decided the Celt slave would suffer a horrible accident, and soon. Pleased by the thought, he realized that the more problems that developed on Haakon’s farm, the more his helpful assistance would be needed by all who resided there. It would not matter if Dana turned to him for comfort rather than love. If she became dependent upon him for any reason, he would consider it a vital step toward winning her hand.
Dana rested all afternoon, and she was wide awake when she left the house to meet Brendan. For Erik’s sake and out of regard for her father’s friendship with Jarald, she had made more of an effort to entertain the man that evening, but she had not known what to do when he had responded by nearly smothering her with affection. He had been surprisingly gentle rather than rough, but it was all she could do to endure his frequent hugs and kisses on the cheek. She knew he had to consider her cold, and she didn’t understand why that didn’t dim his ardor.
The effort to hide her feelings all day had left Dana feeling deeply troubled, and she hoped their dispute with Grena could be settled swiftly so that she could tell Jarald the truth: she valued his friendship just as her father did, but there was no hope for a marriage between them. That Brendan could have suggested she sleep with the man still disgusted her, and she was not nearly so eager to see him that night as she had been the previous evening.
Brendan, however, had decided to take full advantage of every opportunity to enjoy Dana’s favors, since that cynical view of their romance soothed his badly troubled conscience where she was concerned. She had a way of playing upon his emotions as no other woman ever had, but now that he was aware of the danger, he was certain he could overcome it. He purposely reached the clearing first, and the instant Dana had dismounted from her mare, he drew her into his arms.