Fires of Winter

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Hugh does not have a son, nor will he ever. When he was a child with the fever, it rendered him only half a man. Your sister lied and I told Anselm this, but he did not believe me. So yea, they will die also. All of Anselm’s sons and their sons. All but mine!” Yarmille rode on toward Brenna’s house.

  “You must stop her!” Brenna cried.

  “There is no time, wench.”

  “You will be hunted down for her deed.”

  “I let Garrick live, knowing he would follow. There is no difference. I will sail to Erin or Finland, far away.”

  “She is going to kill my son!” Brenna screamed, beside herself with fear. She tried to turn her horse around, but Cedric grabbed the reins. However, Brenna could not be stopped now, not unless he killed her. She jumped off her horse and started running back to her son and Garrick. She had to stop Yarmille, she had to! Cedric rode up beside her and lifted her onto his horse. She fought like a cornered tiger, until a blow to her head brought blackness, and a terrifying end to her struggles.

  The water of the fjord was choppy, the current swift. Brenna was aroused by the rocking of a small boat. Fear had not left her for a second and she awoke thrashing her arms, still fighting to be free. But she was not bound and Cedric’s back was to her as he pushed the boat away from Garrick’s landing.

  Brenna’s desperation defied reason. She thought only of getting back to the landing, of finding Yarmille before it was too late. Without taking into account her inability to swim, she jumped into the water before Cedric was aware that she was conscious. She went under instantly, but fought her way back to the surface. She could hear Cedric screaming at her before she sank again.

  The current carried her along and she smashed into the boards under the landing. She pulled herself back to the surface, clinging to a wooden plank, and then she saw Cedric coming toward her in the boat. Why in God’s name didn’t he give up and go away?

  Brenna tried reaching the bank where she could easily get to the path leading up the cliff. But Cedric was too close. He would be there before she crawled out of the water. She maneuvered her way under the landing, propelling herself from plank to plank, until she reached the other side. Cedric was forced to go around, which gave her more time. Here there was only jagged rock for many yards, blocking her way to the cliff path. She skirted around the rock, cutting her fingers as she clung to it. Finally she came to an area where she could crawl out of the water. It did not matter that she was already exhausted, for Cedric was fast approaching, rowing the little boat like a man possessed.

  Brenna scaled the cliff as quickly as she could, grabbing branches, sharp rocks and anything else her fingers touched, to secure her hold. She edged her way back toward the landing, sure that Cedric could move no faster than she and so would have no advantage. But he had already left the boat and was gaining on her, screaming that he would kill her now. And then there was nothing left for her to grab hold of, only smooth rock. She could no longer move up or to the left. Cedric was directly below her.

  When she felt his fingers touch her ankle, she screamed at the futility of her efforts. She kicked out at him to keep him away, but he kept trying to grab hold of her. Finally she hit his head with her foot and he fell a few feet, but quickly secured another hold and began to climb up again. How long could this go on? She was so close to the edge of the path, with no way to reach it.

  She screamed again when Cedric’s fingers stretched up at her. And then she heard her name called, though it seemed far away, muffled by the racing water and her own heavy breathing. At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, offering her hope when there was none. Then she heard the voice again, louder, and recognized it.

  “Garrick! Hurry—Hurry!”

  Cedric heard him too and no longer tried to reach Brenna. She watched as he scrambled down the cliff and in a panic, jumped into his boat. The impact of his body capsized the small vessel, and Cedric tumbled into the water. The current caught him and carried him with it. Brenna saw him fighting against the water, trying to swim. His head went under once, then again, and she saw him no more.

  Garrick found her staring blankly at the black water of the fjord. He reached out to her, their hands only just meeting, and pulled her around a smooth boulder to the path. She fell into his arms and did not protest as he carried her to the top of the cliff and into his house.

  Garrick put Brenna down by the fire in the hall and quickly brought her wine. “You must get out of those wet clothes, Brenna.”

  “Nay, let me rest first.”

  He did not argue, but sat down with her on the fur rug. His eyes were downcast, his anxiety great. Brenna knew why.

  “Can you ever forgive me?”

  She touched his cheek. “Hush. ’Tis over now.”

  “Nay. I caused you endless grief. I nearly cost you your life by bringing Cedric here to discover the truth when I should have believed in you.”

  “I do not blame you, Garrick. As long as you trust me now. Do you?”

  “Yea, and I will always,” he whispered, and kissed her tenderly. “Will you wed me now?”

  “If you still want me.”

  “Want you?” he shouted in amazement. “Woman, how can you doubt it?”

  She laughed and snuggled in his arms. “We have so much to be thankful for, Garrick. You, me, Selig—we all could have died.” She sat up. “Where is Selig?”

  “He is safe.”

  She relaxed again. “I shudder to think what would have happened if you did not come when you did. Cedric was bent on revenge against me because I nearly killed him. When he heard you call, he tried to escape, but fell into the water and drowned.” She trembled as she spoke of it.

  “’Tis fortunate your horse is indeed faster than mine. I reached here in only minutes.”

  “The wind must have carried you,” she smiled. “But thank God you woke in time.”

  Garrick laughed. “That you can thank our son for. He roused me by pounding on my chest, no doubt thinking he had discovered a new toy to play with.”

  “Where did you leave him? With Erin?”

  “Nay. Just as I left your house with him, Yarmille came, to bid you farewell, she said. I asked her to take him to my parents.”

  Brenna’s blood turned to ice. “Garrick—nay! Say you jest!”

  “What is wrong?”

  Brenna jumped to her feet. “She is going to kill him! She went there to kill you both!”

  Garrick did not stop to doubt her words. They both ran to the stable for fresh horses and rode with terrifying speed to Brenna’s house. Behind her house, Garrick found the trail of Yarmille’s horse leading into the woods, not to his parents’ house.

  They did not talk as they followed the trail. Brenna could hardly see through the wash of tears she shed. Still she managed to keep up, uttering hopeful prayers every step of the way. When Garrick lost the trail in underbrush, Brenna thought she would die of grief. What hope did her little son have against Yarmille? Too much time had passed.

  Garrick tried to insist Brenna go for help, but she could not bear to leave the woods when Selig might be close. So they continued on blindly, looking for signs of Yarmille’s trail. When Brenna saw her coming slowly toward them, she raced ahead of Garrick and reached Yarmille first. The older woman was alone.

  “Where is he?” Brenna cried.

  Yarmille shook her head, staring at her upturned hands. “I could not do it myself. I am a mother too. I could not.”

  Brenna slid off her horse and pulled Yarmille down from hers. She shook her roughly. “Where is he?”

  Yarmille pointed further into the woods. “I just left him.”

  Garrick came up behind them, his voice disturbingly gentle. “Where, Yarmille?”

  “Not far.” She looked up, her eyes strangely lighted.

  “There, you can hear him crying. Fairfax always did cry the loudest. I must go to him.”

  Garrick rode on, and Brenna mounted her horse and followed him. She
did not hate Yarmille for her treachery, for the woman was so very mad. But she could not pity her either.

  They found Selig beneath a tall pine tree, whimpering because he could not crawl without pricking himself on pine needles. When Garrick handed him to Brenna, her tears were at last happy ones. But with the anxiety of a mother, she knew it would be a long time before she let this little boy out of her sight for even a short while. They passed the spot where they had spoken to Yarmille, who was gone.

  “She planned it all, Garrick,” Brenna said as they rode slowly toward home. “Yarmille was the one who paid Cedric to take me away. And I recognized her horse. She is the woman who tried to kill me in the woods.”

  “Why you, Brenna? This is what I cannot understand.”

  “She feared my child, not me. Selig was one more heir of Anselm’s that she would have to be rid of before her son would be the only heir.”

  “She must have been mad for many years to think she could accomplish such a task.”

  “I should have realized she was the one responsible. I knew she hated your family, but because of my jealousy, I thought Morna was involved.”

  “Morna!”

  “She wants you for herself. And—and you did turn to her when we were parted.”

  “So you did believe that,” Garrick frowned. “Because of my anger, I wanted you to think so. But ’tis not true, Brenna. She and I would have wed years ago for reasons other than love. I wanted her for her beauty and she desired me only because I was a chieftain’s son. I know that now.”

  “She means naught to you anymore?”

  “Nay. She only reminds me what a fool I was to take her rejection so to heart. I was a fool in many ways. Can you forgive me for all the pain I have caused you?”

  “Of course,” she smiled. “You will only give me happiness from this day on.”

  Later, judgment was passed on Yarmille, and she was banished from the land. Her son Fairfax elected to go with her, since she could no longer care for herself. He had known nothing about her scheming and was as shocked as everyone else to learn the truth. Brenna thought the punishment harsh, but her own family came first, and with Yarmille gone, her fears were put to rest.

  “Is Selig asleep?”

  “Yea, my love,” Brenna replied, and crawled into bed to snuggle close to Garrick. “He woke with belly pains, no doubt from all the sweets your father gave him earlier.”

  “He does spoil him overmuch.”

  “I cannot argue that point,” she grinned.

  “And why, wench, would you wish to argue any point with me?” he said in mock astonishment.

  She leaned back, pretending anger. “Do not think that because we are wed, your will shall be my will, Viking.”

  He chuckled and pulled her close. “You are strong-minded and stubborn. This I know well. Did you not insist on the day we were wed that I set Janie free so Perrin could claim her as I claimed you? You did bend me easily to your will.”

  “You were as pleased as I to see their happiness,” she scoffed at him.

  “I suppose,” he grinned. “I still wonder how I could have been so unaware of their plight. Why did Perrin not speak to me about her? We had our disagreements for a while, but that did not last after Selig was born.”

  “He wanted to buy Janie, but he was reluctant to ask you for her, for fear you would refuse. You were never in an agreeable mood for very long.”

  “Yea. Even after Selig was born and I knew such pride and joy in him, I was still depressed because of you, wanting to go to you all those months, yet afraid you would reject me. I can see why Perrin would not have wanted to approach me on the matter.”

  “So you would put the blame on me, eh?”

  “You were overly stubborn, wench!”

  Brenna smiled and kissed him lightly, teasingly. “I suppose I will always be. But you love me anyway.”

  “Do I?”

  “Garrick!”

  He laughed and rolled on top of her. “Never doubt it, Brenna. Never. You are mine now, whether you admit it or not.”

  “Oh, I admit it—gladly.”

  The balcony doors were open to let in the light of the midnight sun. Its orange rays cast a soft glow on the couple entwined on the bed. They were wed four weeks now. The pagan ceremony had been beautiful, but Brenna still wanted God’s blessing, and was determined to have a Christian ceremony one day.

  Brenna no longer had thoughts of returning to the land of her youth. This was her home now, here with her husband and son. The boy she had once tried to be was dead. She was a woman now, complete.

  Please look for

  Johanna Lindsey’s

  newest bestseller

  THE PURSUIT

  Coming Spring 2002

  And now enjoy an excerpt!

  Kimberly MacGregor waved the letter in her hand to gain her husband’s attention as he entered her sitting room. “Megan has written again,” she told him. “She has invitations piling up, too many as usual, but in this case that’s ideal. Let her pick and choose the best ones. She’s sounding really excited about this. Want to read the letter?”

  “Nay.”

  That answer was too abrupt and a bit disgruntled-sounding for a man of Lachlan MacGregor’s easy temperament.

  “You aren’t having second thoughts about letting Melissa go to London, are you?”

  “Aye.”

  “Lachlan!”

  His disgruntled tone was now accompanied by a matching look. “I dinna like asking the Duke and Duchess o’ Wrothston for favors.”

  Kimberly relaxed. She should have known. Lachlan might get along famously with Devlin St. James when he and his wife Megan came to visit them at Kregora Castle, or vice versa, but it wasn’t always that way. They had in fact met under bizarre circumstances which didn’t account for Lachlan’s remark about favors.

  “This was Megan’s idea, so there’s no favor involved,” she reminded him. “As soon as she heard that all of Melissa’s beaux were being frightened off by my over-protective brothers, she suggested Meli come to England where the MacFearsons are unknown. You agreed it was a good idea. I agreed it was an excellent idea. And Meli is looking forward to it. So don’t be having second thoughts now.”

  “I assumed she’d be staying at Wrothston, as we do when we visit them in England, no’ in London town,” he grumbled. “The lass has been tae Wrothston enough tae be comfortable and feel right at home. London’s no’ the same, and she’ll be nervous enough—”

  “Nervous?” Kimberly interrupted. “Our daughter is excited about this trip, she’s not the least bit nervous. If anyone’s nervous it’s you, and you and I aren’t even going until later in the summer. Is that it, then? You’re letting your worry for her override your better judgment?”

  “Nay, I just dinna want her feeling she has tae find a husband afore she comes home. That’s tae much pressure tae be putting on her at her young age. You have assured her—?”

  “Yes, yes, I’ve assured her she can be an old maid if she’d like.”

  “Och, this isna funny, Kimber.”

  She tsked at him. “You’re the one making too much out of it. Most young girls her age go through this; I did myself. Now I might have been nervous about it, but Meli really isn’t. She plans to have fun, to make some new friends, to be awed by such a big town as London is, and she even figures she’ll probably find a husband while she’s at it. But that’s not at the top of her to-do list by any means. She thought we wanted her to make a concerted effort to get affianced, but I’ve assured her if she does, that’s fine, and if she doesn’t, that’s fine, too. Maybe you should tell her the same before she leaves, so she can just relax and let what happens happen. Now have we covered all your last minute doubts?”

  “Nay, ’tis still a huge undertaking tae be putting on the duchess on our behalf.”

  “Would you like us to go as well for the whole summer instead of just a few weeks as we planned?”

  He looked appalled. Just as she e
xpected. “You said that wouldna be necessary.”

  “Nor is it. We covered Megan’s willingness already. And furthermore, she isn’t planning any events herself; she merely has invitations lined up that she was no doubt going to accept anyway. Besides, she adores Meli and is an old hand at this sort of thing. She sponsored me, didn’t she? And had a hand in matching you and I to wedded bliss.”

  That made him grin. “Is that what we’ve been having, darlin’? Wedded bliss?”

  She quirked a golden brow at him and asked, “You don’t think so?”

  He pulled her to her feet, then meshed her hips to his. “I’d be calling it heaven m’self.”

  “Would you now?” She grinned back at him, then made a face. “Bah, you’re not going to get out of this subject that easily. Why are you really having doubts? And no more of these lame reasons that don’t wash.”

  He sighed. “I had the hope remaining that our lass would end up wi’ a fine Scot brave enough tae ignore the legend and trounce any o’ your sixteen brothers that think tae bully him.”

  “What an unkind thought,” she said, and smacked his shoulder before she moved away from him. “I love my brothers—”

  “I know you do, Kimber, and I even tolerate them m’self, but you canna deny they deserve a trouncing or two for scaring off all o’ Meli’s suitors. If we didna have friends in England willing tae sponser her for a season there, the poor lass could end up permanently unwed, and I want m’ daughter tae be as happy in wedlock as I’ve made you.”

  She chuckled. “Listen to that bragging.”

  “True nonetheless,” he said with complete confidence.

  “Perhaps,” she allowed with a teasing grin, but then grew serious again. “As for Meli and her future happiness, is the nationality of the man she loses her heart to really of importance to you? And before you answer, keep in mind that if you say yes, your English wife will be insulted.”

  He laughed. “Half English wife, though one could wish yer Scottish half didna come from the MacFearson himself.”