Fires of Winter

by Johanna Lindsey

  “You will!” he said sharply, his eyes darkening. “And you will also wear the gown my mother is now making for you. You will wear them when you come with me to the feast at my father’s house to celebrate the winter solstice.”

  Brenna was thoroughly taken aback. “Your mother is making a gown for me?”

  “At my request,” he answered curtly.

  Brenna was amazed that Heloise would agree to make a gown for a slave. She knew Heloise was Christian and kindhearted, but still, to spend her time sewing for a servant was incredible. Just as surprising was the fact that Garrick would take her to Anselm’s settlement, and for a feast, no less.

  “I do not understand, Garrick. Why will you take me to your father’s house now, when every time I have asked you to take me there to see my family, you refused?”

  “You needed time to adjust to your new life, without remembrances of home. You have done that.”

  “You honestly think I have adjusted, after I only just tried to escape you?”

  “I did not say you have adjusted to me, mistress, but to your new life.”

  “But why will you take a slave to a feast? Is that ordinarily the custom?”

  “Nay, but I do not conform strictly to custom. You will come along to serve my needs.”

  She gasped at his meaning. “And if I refuse?”

  “You cannot refuse, Brenna,” he laughed. “You go wherever I take you.”

  “Mayhaps. But I can make it most difficult for you,” she remarked slyly. “Still, I will go on one condition—that I have a dagger to wear.”

  “Agreed.”

  She smiled and crossed to the door, his gift still in her hands. She felt she was the winner this time. Garrick was getting soft.

  “As to my taking care of your needs while there, we will discuss that when the time is at hand.”

  “There will be no discussion.”

  “You can be sure there will be,” she countered, and left him to brood on it.

  The day of the solstice feast came sooner than Brenna would have liked. Though she was eager to see her aunt again, and she had many choice words to say to Cordella, who would rue the day she had lied to Brenna, she was not looking forward to being in Anselm’s house, wanting to hate him, yet knowing she had much to be grateful to him for. And to go there with Garrick, before all, not as his slave but as his woman, wearing his gifts. She wondered if she could bear the humiliation of it.

  Brenna wanted desperately not to go, but knew she must. Garrick was in high spirits over the whole affair. He was adamant that she accompany him. He would drag her there if she offered resistance.

  Brenna looked down at the beautiful gown that clung delicately to her slim body. It was rich red velvet, not too heavy, and shot through with gold thread. It was a simple design, sleeveless, in the Viking fashion, with a gently curving neckline. Most startling was the wide gold belt studded with rubies to match the arm rings she wore.

  Janie helped Brenna with her hair, twining thick braids interlaced with red ribbon about her head for a becoming effect. She was not at all jealous of the fact that Brenna would be a guest at Anselm’s house, but was quite excited for her and chatted aimlessly about her good fortune.

  Brenna did not feel that way, and became even more apprehensive when Garrick called for her. She met him in the hall, and was stunned by his appearance. He was dressed also in velvet, the fine, gold material molded to his muscles like a second skin. Red thread contrasted with the gold, and large rubies studded not only his belt, but also a gold medallion around his neck. She wondered if he had planned it this way, that they should look like a matched pair.

  His wavy hair glistened gold in the firelight, but his eyes were cloudy when she noted him staring oddly at her.

  “You are a jewel in a black sea, mistress,” Garrick said softly, coming toward her.

  She felt herself blush at the way his eyes looked her over. “The gown is lovely,” was all she could manage to say.

  “Yea, but ’twould not be as beautiful on another.”

  Now she was thoroughly ill at ease. “’Tis not like you to play at flattery, Garrick.”

  “I speak only truth,” he smiled. “There is much to me you have not yet seen.”

  “I am beginning to learn that.”

  All at once he was impatient. “Let us go. The feast has no doubt begun.”

  She nodded and followed him through the cooking area to where their cloaks hung by the back door. But hers was not there. In its place was a beautiful cloak of ermine, with a wide hood. She stood still while he draped it over her shoulders, then carefully placed the hood over her hair.

  She looked up at him, her brows raised questioningly. “Another gift?”

  He grinned. “Aye. Rich apparel becomes you. You shall have more of it.”

  “’Tis not like you to be generous either, Garrick. Why have you changed?”

  “It suits me,” he replied with a shrug, and at last handed her the dagger he had promised her.

  She stuck the jeweled weapon in her belt, then looked at him in exasperation. “God’s mercy! ’Twas better when you would brood and were predictable. I hate inconsistency!” she snapped, then stalked from the house, but not before she heard him chuckle at her sudden outburst.

  A thick cloud of smoke from the cooking fires hung heavy in the hall, but Brenna preferred stinging eyes to the cold that they had just come from outside. She was still too chilled to give up her cloak, and it was just as well that she had that excuse, for as she looked about the room at the other women there, she saw that not one of them had a gown as rich as hers.

  She blushed nearly crimson at the thought of their reaction to Garrick parading her before them. A mere slave adorned better than freewomen—it was unheard of. Brenna felt like Garrick’s pampered whore, and knew that all would come to the same conclusion.

  These thoughts plagued Brenna, and she grew increasingly bitter. She said nothing when Garrick left her at one table while he went to greet his family. She sat stonily silent, fixing her gaze in her lap, knowing that many eyes were turned her way. She continued to brood, and was startled when Heloise joined her.

  “Are you pleased with the gown, Brenna?”

  Brenna met the kind eyes and began to relax. “Yea, I thank you.”

  “Then come, let me have your cloak. I did not spend many hours on such a lovely gown to have you hide it.”

  Brenna gave up the ermine cloak reluctantly, but found that she was not nearly so self-conscious with Heloise beside her. She was immensely grateful that the mistress of the house was taking the time to make her feel at ease.

  “Yea, ’tis indeed lovely on you, child,” Heloise smiled.

  “You are very kind.”

  “Nay, I speak the truth. And I owe you my thanks, Brenna.”

  “I have done nothing.”

  Heloise glanced at Garrick standing with his father and some other men, then looked back at Brenna and placed a hand affectionately on her arm. “I have not seen my son so relaxed and actually in good humor for a very long time. For this I have you to thank.”

  Brenna blushed once again. “Surely you are mistaken.”

  “I think not. Oh, he did not want to fall prey to your charms and fought against it, but he has nonetheless. Have you not noticed the difference yourself?”

  Brenna nodded slowly, avoiding Heloise’s eyes. She could not agree with the other woman, yet surprisingly, the thought warmed her. Could that really be the reason for the startling change in Garrick since her illness? Could he have fallen in love with her?

  Brenna was afraid to pursue such thoughts or speak of it further, so she quickly changed the subject. “My aunt. May I see her?”

  “Of course. Ah, she comes now. I will take my leave, so you may speak privately.”

  Brenna rose with Heloise just as Linnet reached them, but Brenna did not see her leave. Her eyes were on her aunt, and her tears fell as they embraced. All that Brenna had endured during the recent m

onths came to her mind now that she finally had someone to confide in, but it did not seem half so bad in light of her aunt’s situation.

  They sat down together, but Brenna would not release Linnet’s hands. She took in her aunt’s appearance with a critical eye, and saw that the older woman still did not look her age. In fact, her blue eyes sparkled with youth and vitality.

  “You fared well, Aunt?”

  “Heloise has made me feel as if I am part of her family,” Linnet confided easily. “Yea, I fared very well.”

  “I am glad. So often I worried for you, but Garrick would not let me come here till now.”

  “He is very possessive, I think, and would like to keep you close to his home. I have heard much of you, Brenna, from Heloise. I know that you were terribly stubborn in the beginning, but I knew you would be. I know that you ran away, and also were deathly ill. I was frantic at the time. But here you are, well and honored. I am so pleased.”

  “Honored?”

  “You are here as a guest, not as Garrick’s slave. Yea, he honors you in this.”

  Brenna laughed dryly. “I know his reason, Aunt. I am here only to see to his needs.”

  “Come now, Brenna,” Linnet reasoned. “There are many here who could do that. Also, he did not need to give you such beautiful gifts for what you imply. I was with Heloise when Garrick bid her make that gown for you. ‘It must be in the Viking fashion,’ he said, ‘for she is one of us now.’”

  Brenna knitted her brows in thought. “I have given him no reason to believe I am happy here. He knows I will escape again if given the opportunity. Why would he say I am one of them?”

  “You must have given him some cause to believe so. But truly, Brenna, you must not try to escape again. If you succeeded and Garrick could not find you, I would forever worry over you.”

  “When I go, Aunt, ’twill be by sea, and I will take you with me,” Brenna said hastily, doubtful that she could ever accomplish such a feat. Though she had tried to put her aunt at ease, what she said seemed to sadden the older woman instead.

  “Ah, Brenna. I thought surely, seeing you here this day, that you had finally outgrown your wild ways. A mature woman would accept the fates that brought her here. She would be thankful she is alive and adjust to her new life, knowing there is no longer an old life to return to.”

  “As you have done?”

  “Yea, as I have. ’Tis the only way, Brenna. If we mourn the freedom we lost, we will suffer unduly. In truth, my life has improved, so I cannot complain. I have a kind, dear friend in Heloise. She does not begrudge me Anselm’s occasional visits, and so I have a man too, who is quite kind in his way.”

  “Cease! I wish to hear no more.”

  “Be sensible, Brenna. Garrick cares for you, ’tis plain to see. Make your life with him something special.”

  “By being his whore!” Brenna hissed, the heart of her unrest coming to the surface.

  “Yea, I know he cannot offer you marriage, but you will be as a wife to Garrick. His splendid gifts are proof of that. ’Tis said a bastard can inherit from his father if there are no legitimate heirs. Mayhaps Garrick will never wed, but keep you as his only love. Your future with him would be just as secure, even without vows spoken. You may birth bastards, but they would have a place here.”

  “My pride demands better. I once scorned marriage, yet that is the only way I could live with Garrick in peace.”

  “But ’tis forbidden to marry a slave.”

  “I know,” Brenna said softly.

  She looked at Garrick across the room and smiled. She had said the words aloud. She would marry Garrick, yea, she would do so gladly. The thought of marriage to him, without the constant battle of wills, filled her with warmth. Yea, she did love him!

  Brenna greeted this realization with laughter clear and joyous. She leaned over and hugged her aunt. “I love him. I did not know it until now, but ’tis truth. I love him. If he cares for me as you have said, as his own mother has said, then he will marry me. ’Tis the only way I can live with Garrick.”

  “Brenna, you are surely Angus’s daughter. Stubborn beyond good sense. If you truly love Garrick, then you will take him as he is and not demand more of him.”

  “And decency be damned? Nay, Aunt. ’Twill be my way, or not at all,” Brenna replied sternly and stood up. “Where is Della?”

  “She complained of an illness, and took to her bed in our quarters.”

  “Did she know I would be here?”

  “Yea, we all knew. Garrick had to obtain permission from his father to bring you as a guest, so as not to insult Anselm.”

  Brenna bristled at this. She was the one insulted. To obtain permission indeed!

  “We will speak later, Aunt,” Brenna said stiffly. “I hope by then you will be more supportive of me, rather than of these pagan barbarians.”

  Hugh joined Garrick, refilling both their tankards from the huge, foaming cauldron of mead in the middle of the long table before he sat down. Men masked in animal heads danced and ran about the room, playing tricks on each other and various guests.

  Garrick was hard-pressed to keep a stoical countenance as a man hidden beneath the head of a ram, whom he knew for a fact to be his half-brother Fairfax, snuck up behind Hugh and emptied a bucket of snow atop his head. Garrick watched in amazement as Hugh merely laughed and shook the snow from his shoulders, not even turning to see who the culprit was, even though Fairfax had run for dear life after completing the deed.

  Finally Garrick laughed boisterously. “You have mellowed, brother. I know you have never liked the merry antics of the winter solstice feast. I was prepared to battle you to the floor just now, once you rose in a rage, drawing your sword.”

  “And I disappointed you, I see,” Hugh chuckled, his golden mane shaking.

  “Nay. I am in no mood to do battle.”

  “Nor I. So we have both mellowed, eh?”

  Garrick leaned back and studied his older brother speculatively. “I thought I was in high spirits, but you are even more so. You are as a man who has been granted a glimpse of Valhalla and has found it to be just as anticipated. Enlighten me.”

  “Toast me, brother,” Hugh grinned. “I will at long last have a child.”

  Garrick was indeed surprised. He pounded his brother on the back. “’Tis welcome news, Hugh!” He raised his tankard. “May the child be male, and blessed with the strength of his—uncle.”

  Hugh roared with laughter. “I will settle for that.”

  “Your wife must be ecstatic in her joy,” Garrick remarked. “’Twas a long wait.”

  “Nay, she is furious. She always placed the blame on me for her barrenness, but she is still barren. ’Tis the new slave Cordella who is breeding.”

  Some of Garrick’s pleasure was lost at this disclosure. “Are you sure ’tis your seed?”

  “Yea,” Hugh answered proudly. “As you have kept your wild vixen for yourself, so I have kept mine.”

  Garrick frowned at the mention of Brenna, remembering the grudge she harbored against her sister. He cursed himself for giving her a dagger, and prayed she would not use it against her sister.

  He looked about the room quickly to find her, but she was nowhere to be seen. She was no doubt with Cordella.

  Garrick rose quickly. “Your pardon, Hugh. I would find Brenna before our father’s feast is ruined. She has a talent for trouble.”

  “Sit down, Garrick, ’Twould take more than a little vixen to ruin this feast. I would discuss with you your voyage this spring.”

  “Can it not wait until later?” Garrick asked impatiently.

  “If you leave now, Morna will be sure to think you are afraid to face her.”

  “Morna?”

  Hugh motioned toward the door and Garrick turned to see Perrin, looking justifiably embarrassed, and beside him, his sister Morna. She looked as lovely as ever. Her flaxen hair was pulled back tightly, accentuating the strong bones of her face, and her full curves were pressed hard against the dark green silk of her gown. Their eyes met, and Garrick’s were as dark as a stormy cove.

  Hugh was right. He could not leave now. He turned his attention back to his brother and sat down slowly. He would just have to trust Brenna not to do something that they would all regret.

  In the sky, a red mist was gathering, tinging the white landscape. An ominous color, red—the violent color of blood and anger.

  Brenna stared at the northern lights for several seconds, imagining the shafts of violet-red mist to be bloody arms reaching out to unseen enemies. Her stormy thoughts and the vivid memory of her humiliation because of Cordella’s lies brought out such imaginings. Her anger was barely controlled as she opened the door to the women’s quarters.

  Numerous oil cups glowed with light, and a fire burned in the center of the room. Pallets lined the walls, and on one lay Cordella, an arm draped over her eyes, her fiery red hair spread out on the pillow beneath her head.

  “Who is there?” Cordella asked in a bored voice. “Hugh?” She waited for an answer, but none came. “Linnet?”

  “Nay, ’tis me, Della.”

  Cordella sat up immediately, her face slowly losing all color. “Brenna—I—”

  “You what?” Brenna demanded sharply as she came closer. “You are sorry? You meant to admit to your lies before I was humiliated because of them?” Brenna stood directly in front of Cordella, her hands planted on her hips, her eyes stormy with rage. “Why did you lie to me about what happens between a man and woman?”

  Hot color returned to Cordella’s cheeks. “’Tis what you deserved!”

  “Why? What have I ever done to you to make you so vengeful? I would know the answer, Della, before I take my own vengeance!”

  Again Cordella blanched. Quickly she tried to justify herself. “Dunstan wanted you, but you were not even aware of it.”

  “Dunstan?” Brenna’s brows narrowed. “That is absurd. He was your husband.”

  “Yea, my husband!” Cordella shrieked bitterly. “But ’twas you he coveted. If you had known, you could have put an end to it. You were too wrapped up in trying to prove yourself worthy of your father’s pride. You were not aware of how others felt.”

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