The Viking's Highland Lass

by Terry Spear

  As soon as he spoke the words, she realized just how true the analogy was, and just how much she resented it.

  Her appetite having fled the moment Seamus and the men had returned to the bailey, she forced herself to choke down her smoked fish soup. It would be the last hot meal she would have before she fled the keep.

  “And smile,” he repeated, his eyes narrowed as he watched her.

  She hated him, never more than now. At least where her da had been concerned, he’d had the right to order her about because he had been her da. But this man…

  It was worse. By far, it was worse.

  When Seamus had eaten his fill of food and drink, he turned his attention to her and ordered, “Go to your chamber.”

  He did not dismiss anyone else from the great hall. Only her. Was it because she had refused to drink? Refused to eat anything more than half her fish soup? Refused to smile? She’d tried to eat, but she’d felt ill and was afraid she wouldn’t keep what little she’d eaten down.

  Everyone in the hall quieted, watching her as she rose as stoically from her chair as she could, inclined her head a little to him in parting, and strode out of the hall with as much grace as she could muster, her skin burning with mortification.

  When she reached her chamber, she closed the door, then hurried to the window to see what the weather looked like now. Snow was blowing all across the bailey, piled up four feet high in places. Beyond the walls of the keep, she couldn’t even see the mountains or the burn the snow was coming down so heavily.

  She was certain Seamus would come and beat her for her disobedience, even though until she was married to him, he had no right to touch her. But she thought if she could slip away in the snowstorm, she just might have a chance to get away.

  Someone knocked on her door and she whipped around, her heart pounding. It couldn’t be Seamus. Surely now that he felt he had claimed her, he would barge right in. “’Tis me, Lynette,” the maid said.

  Marginally relieved, Brina let out her breath.

  Had Seamus released everyone from the meal now? She listened to the revelry below stairs.

  She didn’t think so. Not with all the loud talking and laughing still going on in the great hall. “Come in.”

  Lynette hurried into the chamber carrying a chemise with small white flowers embroidered at the neckline, sleeves, and hem of the gown.

  “What is this?” Not that Brina didn’t know what it was, but the reason Lynette was bringing it to her this eve had her worried beyond measure.

  “From Seamus. He had commissioned the chemise a week ago for you. He wishes for you to wear it tonight, my lady.” Lynette laid it on the bed. She straightened and looked at Brina, watching to see her response.

  Brina wouldn’t touch it as if that would save her from what she would have to face when Seamus came to her chamber.

  “You would do well to agree to whatever he wishes. He near killed a man who disobeyed him a fortnight ago. I doubt he would spare you if he felt you did not take kindly to…” Lynette’s cheeks reddened, and she looked down at the floor. “Beg pardon. Only I wish not to have to tend to your bruises if it should come to that. Please, do as he asks. For all of our sakes.”

  “Because he will turn his wrath on all of you?”

  “Mayhap. We are no’ certain.”

  Brina wanted desperately to ask if anyone would stand up to the beast, but she was certain Lynette wouldn’t know, and that if anyone had wished to do so, he would have spoken up before now. Everyone was too afraid. And Seamus had his close friends, five of them, who watched his back always. So if anyone wished to kill him, they’d have to kill six men, not just him.

  “I am to leave this with you, help you to dress, and return to the great hall, signaling him that I have done as he asked.”

  Asked? Commanded, rather.

  “Thank you,” Brina said.

  “You… you will not disobey him in this? Will you?” Lynette asked.

  “What would you do in my place?”

  “I would be grateful to be the lady of the keep. I would do everything in my power to ensure he was happy with me. I would bear his bairns. And I would run the keep as you have done.“

  “Aye. Thank you. Go then.” She was surprised Lynette had said that much to her about anything. Did she really feel in such a way? If so, Lynette must have glorified him in her mind.

  “You dinna need my aid in dressing, my lady?”

  Brina shook her head. “I will manage. Just…give me time before you say I am ready. You know how I feel about this?”

  Lynette nodded, her expression solemn.

  Brina had known her since they were both little, and she was certain Lynette wasn’t expecting her next move, but she quickly closed the gap between them and gave her a hug. When she let her go, both she and Lynette had tears in their eyes.

  “Move quickly.” Lynette curtseyed, then left, closing the door behind her.

  Did Lynette know what she had planned? Brina hurried to pull out her pack, bow, and quiver of arrows.

  Was she mistaken in feeling the way she did? Trapped, fearing for her life? For her people’s existence? Was she making more of an issue of Seamus’s role here? Maybe she was wrong, and he would be a dutiful, loving husband.

  But she knew it would not be so.

  He would force himself on her this very eve. Force himself, because she could not willingly allow him to have his way with her when they weren’t married. And that would rile him even more. She would do anything to avoid such a condition tonight, tomorrow, and the next day, if she had the power to do so.

  She paced across the chamber, and then decided, whether it would be the death of her or not. This was her choice. And no one could take that away from her.

  She finished packing the small bag, dressed in her warmest wool gown, not white to blend in with the snow as she didn’t have any such thing, but the lightest color she owned—a pale green kirtle and a wool brat that was as light colored as that. Beneath these, she wore a bright red gown, her best one, and the warmest. The layering would help to keep her warm. She changed into boots, slipped the brat over her head to form a hood, grabbed her quiver of arrows and bow, and hurried down the backstairs where she saw Lynette standing at the foot of the stairs, watching her. Brina’s heart nearly leapt from her chest.

  She’d been caught and she hadn’t even managed to leave the keep yet!

  The two women studied each other for a moment, but Brina saw no condemnation in Lynette’s expression, nothing that said she would shout an alarm that Brina intended to escape her fate. And since Lynette was here, that meant she had not yet gone to the great hall to let Seamus know that Brina was ready for him. Lynette only bowed her head slightly, looking worried. She had told her to move quickly. She must have known what Brina planned to do.

  Her heart in her throat, Brina continued on her way.

  Her skin prickled with unease and her stomach was doing somersaults as she made her way to the servants’ door that led outside. She hastened to the postern gate that should have been guarded, but all the revelry inside had the guards outside partaking in a bit of the ale too, and not as vigilant as they should be. Two men were still hunkered down near the stables and she assumed they were guarding the horses just in case she intended to try and leave on horseback and immediately stop her. Not to mention they would take her to see Seamus for making the attempt.

  Her bow and quiver of arrows secure, she headed out. The snow helped to disguise her also as it collected on her clothes, cloaking her in the wet, white snowflakes. Snowflakes even caught on her eyelashes. The chilly wind whipped her brat about, and she so wished she could take her horse.

  As soon as she was outside the massive, stone curtain walls, she ran, not stopping, the frigid air burning her lungs with every breath she took, the cold seeping into her bones. She wasn’t certain she could find her da’s body as much as the snow had already piled up in some areas, but she looked for him just the same. When she reached
the battleground, she couldn’t tell. She saw a couple of men mostly buried, all the blood covered in white as if nothing terrible had gone on here just hours earlier. They were two of her da’s soldiers, dead. She continued to look, worried every minute she stayed here Seamus would realize she was gone and begin to search for her. But she hoped he’d be too much into his cups to want to leave the great hall early on, and that would give her a chance to run.

  Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks as she surveyed the grounds one last time. Then she assumed that if her da had been severely injured, he was now dead, succumbing to his injuries and the cold. She would not survive herself if she didn’t leave at once. She ran through the forest, the pine trees sheltering her and the ground somewhat from the snow so that it was easier to move. She ran as fast as she could far away from the castle, her home, and the only family she’d ever known.

  Gunnolf hoped he would be invited into the shieling to warm himself, though he didn’t want to impose on the poor woman. He wanted to ask which clan the woman and her husband belonged to. But he was reluctant to, certain they’d want to know which clan he was affiliated with and if they were enemies, it would not bode well. He couldn’t believe he’d gone so far in the snow and gotten so disoriented when he had thought he was still on MacNeill lands.

  “I am Gunnolf, and beg that you allow me a chance to warm myself at your fire for a short while before I head out again.”

  The woman looked at her husband, sound asleep on a plat, not stirring. Her baby was sleeping in her arms, and she turned her attention again to Gunnolf. “If you are quiet.” She looked like she wasn’t happy about the situation, but Gunnolf was wearing a sword, and he assumed he looked fearsome and like he wouldn’t be dissuaded.

  “Is he ill?” Gunnolf asked, concerned. If he had been sleeping there, Gunnolf would have immediately risen from the plat with sword in hand to ensure his wife and bairn were safe from the intruder.

  “Nay,” she said softly. “He walked miles from here in this weather and finally managed to make it home. I thought I had lost him.”

  “’Tis good he made his way here in this blizzard.”

  “What about you? Sit.” She motioned with her head to the hearth.

  Gunnolf pulled off his furs, laying them on the floor, then took a stool and sat beside the fire. “I was traveling when the storm hit with full force. I am not sure where I am now.”

  “Where were you headed?”

  “South. I was told to go south. That a woman would need my help.”

  “What woman?” She poured Gunnolf some ale.

  He shrugged. “A taibhsear only told me the direction to head and that a woman needed my aid. She did not have a name for her. Or where she was located exactly.”

  The woman’s brown eyes widened. “This woman you spoke with has the taibhs?”

  “Ja.”

  “Do you believe in such a thing?”

  “Enough to venture in this direction to find the woman, if I had headed the correct way. You… would not perchance know of such a woman, would you?”

  She shook her head.

  Then they heard a man shout outside the shieling, “Dinna kill her! Or Seamus will kill you!”

  Instantly, Gunnolf was on his feet, his blood pounding. He grabbed his furs and fastened them over his shoulders, unsheathed his sword, and rushed outside into the blinding snow to see what was going on. He couldn’t see anything, only heard the whistle of an arrow flying toward him. And then felt a soft body slamming into him, knocking him back against the powdery, chilling snow.

  The arrow hit a distant tree with a thwack!

  For a moment, he didn’t move, and the woman didn’t either, her body pressed against his, warming him, tendrils of dark brown curls tickling his cheek. The horses ran past them, the riders unable to see them in the snow. Once they had ridden past, the woman tried to get off Gunnolf. She was all softness and curves, except for her sharp knee digging into his groin.

  He groaned and grabbed her leg to pull it away, forcing her to straddle him. Not exactly what he had in mind, but it was better than getting kneed to death.

  With renewed gusto, she struggled to get free of him.

  “Nay, lassie, be still,” he said, his voice gruff and a command, but low, for her ears only. He didn’t want the riders to come back this way prematurely.

  “Nay, you devil,” she said. “Let me go!”

  He noted the woman in the shieling had closed the door, either to keep out the cold, or avoid being in this fight.

  “You saved my life. I wouldna harm you,” Gunnolf said, trying to get past her defenses.

  “’Tis my life I was attempting to save, you beast. No’ yours. Let me go.”

  He smiled darkly at her, despite the circumstances and rolled her onto her back, pinning her down. Blood spotted the snow from her upper sleeve. He narrowed his eyes. “You have been wounded.”

  “A nick, naught more. I barely feel it. I wouldna have suffered even that much if you hadna been in my way. Now, let me go,” she growled.

  Men shouted off in the distance, still moving away from their direction. “Over here! She had to have gone this way!”

  “In this blowing snow, how can you tell!” another man replied.

  “They are after you?” Gunnolf asked. This couldn’t be the woman he was bound to aid, could it be? Well, even if it wasn’t, he was now tasked with the duty.

  “You too, now,” she said, her blue eyes hard with annoyance.

  “I will save you.” He lifted his sword.

  She snorted. “Against six of them?”

  “Aðalbrandr and I have fought against worse odds.”

  “That is what you call your sword? Or do you mean someone else?” She studied him a moment as if she wondered if he had spoken the truth. He had told the truth. Except a couple of the times that he had fought such odds, he’d ended up in a dungeon. But he didn’t believe she needed to know that much information.

  “Ja, my sword.”

  “What does it mean? This Aðalbrandr?”

  “Noble sword.” He saw a bow and quiver of arrows secured to her pack and lifted his gaze to look up at the lass.

  “What? I may no’ be able to wield a great sword, but I can shoot a man with an arrow if warranted.”

  “Seems to me you were not shooting at the men, but seeking refuge,” he said.

  “If I had the spare time, I would take care of the six men following me. Especially the one shooting at me!”

  “All six men?” He smiled and shook his head. “Have you another plan? Do you know the lay of the land?” he asked, hopeful. Maybe she knew the direction they could go, and he could get them back to Wynne’s abode without encountering these men further.

  “Aye, of course. I live here.” She eyed him for a moment further, then frowned. “Very well. Either I have to face those devils or you. There is only one of you. Och, I will have to try and save you too now. ‘Twas only me who was in danger before, but you had to get in my way.”

  He smirked at the challenge in her words. She rose to a crouch and looked like she was about to bolt away from him when he seized her arm.

  She turned to glower at him, her expression furious. “You will have to follow my lead or I will have no choice but to leave you behind.”

  Unless she lived in the woods near here and was used to this kind of weather, he didn’t believe she could leave him behind and succeed at wherever she intended to go. He said quietly, “I have a horse in the byre.”

  “A horse?” Her eyes grew round and her expression instantly brightened. “Why didna you say so in the first place?” She shoved at him to let her up.

  He pulled her to stand, then holding her wrist, not trusting she wouldn’t try to slip away, he headed into the byre. After saddling his horse, he mounted and pulled her up onto the horse’s back so that she was sitting behind him. “I am Gunnolf. May I know your name, lass?”

  “Gunnolf…” She pondered his name for a moment. “Oh, oh,
you are… you are no’ a Highlander. You are the Viking I found wounded in the glen!” She sounded angry.

  “That was you.” He turned and observed her for a long moment, the woman now full grown, her hair dark still, her eyes still blue, her lips even more appealing. Then he said under his breath. “The goddess.” He’d thought for sure the goddess had come to take him to her land. He sighed and moved his horse out of the byre. “I have lived among Highlanders nearly as long as I have lived among my own kind. But ja, ‘tis a Norseman’s name.”

  “What does it mean, this Gunnolf of the North?”

  “Fighting wolf.”

  “I should have known.” She did not say it in a pleasant way.

  “I thank you for taking care of my wound. I thought you were interested in aiding me, but I did not think your people would feel the same way.”

  “They were ready to kill you. I went to my shieling to get the cart to haul you home, but when I returned, you were gone.”

  “You did not tell them about me?”

  “Of course I did. I thought you were in need of help. But when I saw the way the chief and his men reacted with the look of murder in their eyes, I knew they would hunt you down. How did you manage to live?”

  “It was not my time to die.”

  Many Norsemen had settled in the area for the last hundred years or so. Maybe some of them had stolen from her family’s lands, cattle, sheep, or something else. So he understood the animosity she might feel. “What is your name?”

  “Brina. It means strong in Irish. My mother named me such because she’d lost two male bairns in infancy. But I was strong and survived. Though in Gaelic it means, defender, and since I saved you from those brutes, you can thank me for defending you.”

  He stifled a chuckle. In no way had the lass protected him. It was the other way around. “And the clan you are with is?”

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her body snug against his, her head resting against his back, and he suddenly felt very warm despite the chilly snow blowing in his face. Then he worried, would she be able to direct them if she couldn’t see around him?