Fires of Winter

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Very well,” he said, leaning back in the chair again. “To begin with, there will be no more tantrums of the kind you have shown me thus far.”

  “I do not throw tantrums, Viking. I speak my mind,” she returned calmly.

  “The word Viking on your lips is a curse, mistress. I will hear it no more.”

  “I will not call you master!” she hissed, saying the word with loathing.

  “I concede that,” he replied. “I have a given name and you may use it.”

  “I also have a given name, though I have not heard you call me by it.”

  “Very well—Brenna,” he grinned.

  She let a smile cross her lips. “’Tis not so hard to settle things with you.”

  “Oh? You should reserve your opinion till we have finished,” he responded, watching the rare smile vanish. “Now,” he continued in an authoritative voice. “Yarmille has suggested you be put with the two other young females. Janie and Maudya share a small house a short ways behind the stable. You will be quartered with them. You will sleep and pass your free time there. Is this agreeable to you?”

  “Yea.”

  “Good. Your duties will be no different than those the other females share. You will help with the cooking and cleaning, the washing, milk the cows, grind corn. There is not really that much to do, since this is a small household and you have only me to serve. Yarmille will instruct you in your duties when she is here. When she is not, Janie will show you what to do. And since I have no wife, you will also help occasionally in the sewing room with the mending and making of new clothes.”

  “Is that it?” Brenna asked coolly.

  “Yea. There will be no children to mind or a lady to tend, since I will never marry. You have only me to please,” Garrick said quickly, assuming from her question that there would be no argument.

  “All these duties you have described are woman’s work.”

  “Of course.”

  She gazed at him levelly, trying to keep calm. “You were right that I should reserve my opinion on the outcome of this meeting, for if this is the only course you offer me, we will never be in accord.”

  Garrick looked at her sharply, frowning. “Do you refuse to work?”

  “I have told you I will not do woman’s work!” she said haughtily. “I never have and I never will!”

  He leaned forward, his eyes forming narrow slits, his anger building. “You will!”

  “Nay, Viking!” she snapped, ending the short truce between them. “I won’t!”

  “The food you eat, the clothes you wear, they come from me! The house you sleep in is mine!” he stormed, coming to his feet. “If you will not earn your keep, mistress, then you are useless to me!”

  “I will earn my keep,” she said in a suddenly calm tone that surprised him.

  “How? ’Twill not be in my bed, if you have that in mind.”

  “With certainty, that will never happen. Nay, Erin has agreed that I may help him with the horses if you will give him your permission.”

  Garrick scowled at this. “When did you speak with Erin?”

  “Your first day back.”

  “You were told to stay in the sewing room that day!”

  “I am not accustomed to inactivity, Viking,” she replied hotly. “Nor to taking orders!”

  “Well, you will have to learn, wench,” Garrick returned brusquely. “And as for working with Erin, that is out of the question.”

  “Why?” she demanded. “You said I must earn my keep. Well, I have told you what is agreeable to me. I know horses as well as I know weapons, and I am not opposed to cleaning a stable, for I have done so before. If that is not enough, I can also hunt game. I provided meat for the table at home; I can do as well here.”

  “Is that the extent of your talents?” Garrick asked sarcastically.

  Brenna suddenly grinned. “Nay. If you have an enemy, I will kill him for you.”

  Garrick burst out laughing. “You are amazing, wench. You would really try to be a man?”

  She glared at his mockery, her voice breaking. “I cannot help the way I am. ’Twas the way I was raised.”

  “Well, you will have to change your ways, mistress.”

  “You will not concede?”

  “Nay, you will work in the house.”

  Brenna drew herself up, her shoulders stiff, her chin held at a proud angle. “Then you leave me no alternative but to leave.”

  “What?” He looked at her incredulously.

  “You heard me, Viking. Since I will not work as you dictate, and you will not allow me my choice, then as you said earlier, I would be useless to you. So I will leave.”

  Garrick shook his head slowly, his arms crossed. “Nay, wench, that is impossible. You forget that you are no longer free to come and go as you please. You belong to me now.”

  “You insufferable ass!” Brenna stormed, her fury evident in the glassy silver of her eyes. “Do you think you can stop me if I want to go?”

  Garrick’s body stiffened in anger. That he had put up with her obstinacy for this long amazed him.

  “If you leave my lands, mistress, every Viking for miles around will be called to hunt you down. You will then be locked in a cell for your troubles—indefinitely.”

  She laughed at him. “Once I go, Viking, I will not be found, so your threats do not frighten me.”

  “I have tolerated much from you,” Garrick said in a voice as cold as ice. “But no more. ’Tis time you learned fully what being owned entails.”

  Brenna looked at the closed door, but refused to flee—not when she could secure the knife in Garrick’s belt and win the upper hand.

  “What have you in mind, Viking?”

  “A sound thrashing to begin with,” he said and started to approach her.

  Garrick expected her to run and so was not prepared when she threw herself at him, then dipped away easily under his arm. Uttering an oath, he turned to grab her, but stopped short when he caught the glint of the knife in her hand.

  She laughed at the absurd look on his face. “You were saying?”

  “Give me the knife, wench!” he growled menacingly.

  “Come and take it, damn you!” she retaliated, her eyes as stormy as her tone.

  “You will suffer worse for this!”

  “Careful, Viking,” she grinned tauntingly. “Your dog is not here to protect you now.”

  A low growl escaped his lips as he came at her. Brenna kept the knife before her, intent on merely warding him off rather than killing him. He was an arrogant beast, but he had yet to do her harm. It was his father’s blood she wanted, not his.

  However, it proved a mistake not to attack him, for Garrick leaped at her and grabbed the wrist that held the weapon. The pressure he applied to make her drop the knife was excruciating, but she bit her lip and withstood the pain, then deftly maneuvered the knife in her hand until the point of the blade jabbed his arm and he released her. She stared at the blood for a moment, noting that it was only a small nick. But in that moment Garrick’s fist came down hard on her wrist, and the knife clattered to the floor. Then he backhanded Brenna viciously, the blow almost making her lose her balance.

  Blood trickled from her lip. She wiped it slowly with the back of her hand as she glared defiantly at him. She stood proud and unafraid before him.

  “Do your worst, Viking.”

  He said nothing, but looked at her for a long moment. Some of his anger drained away. She did not prepare to run when he took off his belt and held it in his hand, but her eyes glowed with hatred when they met his.

  Then unexpectedly he dropped the thick belt on the floor. She looked on with a puzzled frown that became even more confused when he proceeded to remove his tunic. When he bent to untie the leather garters that held his trousers tight against his legs, she gasped.

  “What are you doing?”

  A cruel smile touched his lips. “Disrobing.”

  Her eyes widened. “You would beat me without your clothes

on?” she asked incredulously.

  “Nay, mistress,” he said coldly as he finished with the garters and removed his soft-skinned boots. “I have decided to deal with you differently.”

  “How?”

  He crooked a brow at her. “’Tis obvious, I would think. I will master you in the one sure way a man dominates a woman. I will have you.”

  She stared at him for a long moment before the meaning of his words became clear to her. For the first time real fear entered her eyes. The color left her face and she took a step backward.

  A terrifying panic gripped Brenna. This was not supposed to happen. Everyone had said he hated women. Bayard said Garrick would have no use for her in that way. And he had not once looked on her with lust, as the other men had. How could she endure the agony that Cordella said would accompany the act? Would she shame herself by screaming her pain aloud? She had no idea how intense it would be.

  Garrick watched Brenna with a puzzled frown. He saw the conflicting emotions that crossed her features. But what surprised him was the terror in her eyes—she who had shown only courage thus far. She had stood defiantly, awaiting a sound thrashing, but now she was cowed at the prospect of his bedding her.

  Such a dramatic change was baffling. He had surmised by her rebellious stance that no amount of pain inflicted would gain him the end he sought. But that her resolve should be broken by the means he chose to humble her did not fit her character, at least not before the deed was completed.

  “Have I found the means to tame you?” he asked in a quiet, curious tone.

  At his words, a spark of anger was lit despite her fear. “I am not an animal to be tamed!”

  “But you are a slave whose arrogance cannot be tolerated,” he returned softly.

  “But you do not want me, Viking. So why this?” she said in a subdued tone.

  Garrick looked at her thoughtfully. “I agree I have no use for women. I do not take them often, only when my body demands it. And so a shapely wench does not turn my eye as she used to. But it seems this is the only way I can put an end to your haughtiness.”

  He took a step towards her and Brenna’s face whitened even more. She stood petrified for a moment, then dashed madly for the knife on the floor. But Garrick had anticipated her move and caught her to him before she neared the weapon.

  Brenna fought like a trapped wild creature, that knows it will soon die. Her sharp claws assailed his rock-hard chest, but only amused laughter met her ears.

  “You have no weapon now, wench. You would match your strength to mine, but you know you will fall the loser.”

  Her answer was to sink her teeth into his arm. She quickly gained her release when he cried out. She made to dash for the door, but his hand caught the back of her shift. When she pushed on, the garment ripped to the waist. There her belt stopped the fabric from tearing further, and he pulled her back to him. She turned, and with a closed fist swung for his face. He caught her arm in a viselike grip and twisted it behind her back, crushing her breasts against his chest as he did so.

  “Release me!” she cried, hysteria in her voice.

  “Nay, I think not.”

  She thought to plead again, but then she looked up at him and saw the desire that was finally in his eyes. Her whole body was pressed to his and she could feel his swelling manhood against her belly. The fear that gripped her made her weak, and she could only thrash her head from side to side when he bent to kiss her. Finally he held her head still in his mighty hand and lowered his mouth to hers. But before the kiss was met, she grabbed a handful of his golden mane and jerked his head back.

  “By Thor, wench!” he growled. “You fight me as if you were a virgin still, when you are not!”

  “I am,” she said in a whisper against his chest, grimacing from the pain in her arm, which he had not released.

  He looked down at the top of her head, seeing the thick black braid trailing down her bare back and across both their arms. He loosened his hold somewhat, but still pressed her to him.

  “I cannot believe that my father’s men did not lust after you as my own have done.”

  “They did not come near me,” she said quietly, praying that this knowledge would change his mind. “Your father kept them away.”

  Suddenly his laughter filled the room. “So this is why you fear me now?”

  “I do not fear you, Viking!”

  “Yea, you do,” he returned, his voice softening considerably, “for I am the man who will bed you. I will be gentle with you, Brenna, as the issue will be proved no matter how I take you.”

  At that he lifted her into his arms, but she thrashed and kicked wildly again and it was indeed an effort to get her to the bed. There he dropped her down, then fell on top of her and pinned her firmly beneath him. She heaved and bucked to remove his great weight from her, and clawed his back until he secured her arms at her sides.

  “Why do you persist, wench? I have said I will be gentle. ’Twill hurt this first time, but not overly much.”

  “You lie!” she cried, trying in vain to free her arms. “Another vile trait to add to your others!”

  “Be still!” he commanded sharply when her knee rose dangerously close to his groin. “You would welcome the lash which effects much pain, but you scorn this, which gives only pleasure. Or is it only the humbling that you fear, for once done, there will be no doubt that you belong to me?”

  “Your lying tongue will not make me submit!” she cried out in frustration. “I know of the agonies you would inflict on me!”

  “Agonies?” he looked down into her terrified eyes and wondered at the demons that were planted in her mind. “The truth will come out in the doing, mistress.”

  With that he moved from her, and Brenna thought briefly that he had indeed changed his mind. But she was fooled, for in the next moment her belt was pulled open and her shift yanked from her shoulders and down her hips, then thrown to the floor. She moaned softly at the humiliation of having her young body bared in its entirety to a man’s lusting eyes. And this man’s eyes did feast hungrily upon her nakedness, making her close her own eyes in utter shame.

  “So this is the body you would deny,” he murmured huskily. “I would think to find a boyish form, not these perfect curves and mounds. Yea, you are a woman proud and true. Such beauty as the like I’ve never seen—and mine for the taking.”

  Brenna started at his words and her eyes flew open. “Cease your mumbling, Viking! I am not yours, and you have yet to prove otherwise!”

  He grinned down at her stormy gray eyes, her bright crimson cheeks. “I will do so with pleasure, Brenna.” He said her name like a caress. “Yea, much pleasure indeed.”

  He leaned over her, his hands securing her arms by her sides, one leg covering both of hers, thus holding her immobile. Then he brought his lips down to the firm mounds of her breasts thrust proudly before him. He took one deep in his mouth, then sucked gently on its delicious peak until it rose impudently beneath his tongue. Brenna jerked at this assault. She had never dreamed that a man’s lips could be so hot. They seemed to sear her tender skin where they touched her. Was this intense heat part of the agony that she knew would come?

  She looked down on him with wonder, at his golden head resting over her breasts, the wavy hair tickling her skin. His enormous shoulders met her eye, and she saw many little trails of blood from her scratches. She watched the iron muscles ripple on his back when she tried to move her arms and he stayed her. Brenna admired strength and courage; she always had. But this man’s strength was unbelievable. He held her with such ease when she tried her mightiest to move him. Though such a powerful body was magnificent to behold, that she lay at the mercy of its strength was unbearable.

  “Garrick—Garrick.”

  He looked up at her, puzzlement in his eyes. “’Tis the first time you have used my name. I like the sound of it on your lips.”

  Brenna steeled herself for her next words. “Garrick, release me.” Her tone of voice was the closest she could come to pleading.

  He smiled softly, his eyes afire with passion. “Nay, my beauty. ’Tis too late for that.”

  At that he moved to kiss her, but she turned her head away. He released one arm to hold her head still. He instantly regretted his decision when her nails dug into a tender area of his chest like sharp teeth.

  He bellowed in pain and quickly grabbed her hand again. “I see you have a weapon after all, my bloodthirsty wench!”

  “Yea, but I regret it cannot reach your heart, for I would take that from you if I could and feed it to the wolves!”

  “Well, vixen, there is something I will give you instead, though ’twill not go to the wolves, but between your legs,” he growled angrily, and pulled her arms together to hold them with one hand while his other removed his trousers.

  With her legs free for a moment, she kicked wildly, but could do no damage. And then his hard and swollen member pressed against her thigh. From his position at her side she could see it clearly, and she gasped at the huge size of it and knew that Cordella had not lied. That proud beast would surely tear her asunder and render her screaming for mercy. Yet even as a horrifying fear spread through her, she could not voice the words to beg again for her release.

  Her rising panic nearly choked her, and she squirmed and heaved to such a degree that she was not aware he had thrust his knees between her legs and now loomed over her. When he lowered his weight slowly, stilling her futile efforts once and for all, she knew she was trapped without the slightest hope of escape.

  “You act as if I would slay you, girl,” he said, still amazed that she fought so fiercely. “Put your fears to rest. You will not perish in my bed.”

  “The words of a sly fox to his chosen meal!” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I warn you, Viking. If you persist in this deed, you will regret it. I do not take injustice lightly!”

  He ignored her threat and buried his lips in the curve of her neck, then whispered close to her ear, “Relax, Brenna, and I will still be gentle with you.”

  “How can a bungling oaf be gentle?” she snapped.

  Brenna did not see his face tighten in anger, but his voice gave testimony to his annoyance. “Then you shall have it your way!”

  -->