By Love Enslaved (20 page)

Once Dana was comfortably seated and provided with a tankard of ale, Erik found it difficult to begin. Finally he chose to confide only as much of the truth as he dared reveal.

“I want Berit for my wife, Dana. I know it’s preposterous, so you needn’t tell me that, but she loves me too and is more than willing to become my bride.”

Astonished, Dana stared at the half brother she held so dear, unable to provide any sort of a response to his announcement for a long moment. “Preposterous” was not nearly strong enough a term to describe what he had suggested, but she would not insult him by quibbling over his choice of words. Instead, she took a fortifying breath and let it out slowly.

“Does Grena have any idea of your intentions?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to talk with you and Freya before going to her.”

Relieved by that, Dana took a sip of ale, and then another, but the refreshing beverage failed to soothe away her initial dismay. “You know what she’s going to say: that she didn’t raise Berit to live in a falconer’s hovel.”

Erik cast an anxious glance around his one-room home. “Are you calling this a hovel?”

“No, of course not. It’s a very comfortable house, but I doubt you have the space to store Berit’s clothes, much less her other possessions.” Seeing Erik’s stricken expression, Dana reached out to catch his hand and pulled him down by her side.

“All I mean is that Grena will have a lengthy list of reasons why you are an unsuitable mate for her daughter. We’ll have to anticipate them so we can counter them forcefully. Had you planned to begin clearing land for your own farm?”

“Well, no, I’d not thought that far ahead, but—”

“You simply must, Erik.” Relishing the prospect of tackling so difficult a problem which would require weeks if not months of diligent effort to solve, Dana threw herself into the planning with an enthusiasm that amazed her half brother.

“There will also be the problem of gathering the money for Berit’s bride-price. I know you’re well paid and thrifty, but do you have enough saved to satisfy Grena and set up housekeeping as well?”

Erik shook his head. “I haven’t nearly enough, but Freya has offered to help with a loan. You know Grena’s main objection to me will not be one of money, though.”

Dana set her tankard aside so she could grasp both of Erik’s hands in hers. “You are a fine man, Erik, and you know none of us will allow her to insult you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, that this will turn into a battle that will leave Grena not speaking to any of us, and your dear mother sick, as a result. If I could think of any way to save Freya what will surely be a wretched fight with her sister, I’d gladly do it.”

Dana felt a momentary twinge of shame that she had not considered her mother’s feelings before he had mentioned them. “Let’s not tell my mother yet. Why don’t you begin clearing land and building your house first? Brendan complained to me only this morning that he’s growing bored, so he ought to enjoy felling trees. Soren is always asking to be treated like a grown man so there’s no reason why he can’t be put to work. There’s time before the fall harvest for the field hands to work for you, too.”

“And how am I to pay them?” Erik inquired with a knowing grin.

“You won’t have to, we’re already paying them and they’ll work wherever we tell them to.”

“I had hoped that you’d help me, Dana, but I hadn’t dreamed you would be so willing.” The warmth of Erik’s gratitude shone brightly in his earnest glance.

“But I love you. How could you have thought I’d be otherwise?” Dana and Erik had always found it easy to exchange affection and she went into his arms to give him a loving hug. “Don’t you think my idea is the best? That you ought to have some land cleared, and a house built before you announce you want Berit for your wife? You will have a home and a means to support her then, and that will counter two of Grena’s most serious objections.”

Erik shook his head ruefully. “I always thought I was practical, but you’ve seen things so much more clearly than I. I wish I had spoken with you before I talked to Berit, because now it’s going to be very difficult for her to wait.”

“You are an exceedingly practical man, Erik, but no one in love ever thinks clearly, do they?”

“I guess not,” the dark-haired young man admitted sheepishly. “Do you have a suggestion for what I might tell Freya to explain my sudden desire to start my own farm?”

Giving his request careful consideration, Dana licked her lips thoughtfully before replying. “You’re twenty-two. That’s certainly old enough for a man to begin thinking about the future. It’s only natural that you would want a farm of your own so that you’ll be able to support a family. If my mother has already offered a loan, you must have discussed marriage with her, so I doubt she’ll be all that surprised.”

When Erik recalled that particular conversation with Freya, he was disconcerted to think how recently marriage had been an extremely remote possibility. That made what he and Berit wanted to do seem hasty and ill-advised, but he knew in his heart that fate had meant them to be husband and wife.

“You’re wrong. She’ll be completely surprised, and especially so when she hears it’s Berit I plan to wed.”

While Dana feared he was right, she didn’t want him to worry about her mother when surely it was Grena who would present the greatest obstacle to his plans. “It may take her awhile to accept the idea, but she loves you as dearly as I do, and she’s sure to give you her support. It’s too late to go out riding again today, but at supper this evening you can tell everyone you’ve decided to clear land for a farm of your own. Then tomorrow we can take Thora and Soren with us and decide just where it ought to be.”

Elated by their discussion, because it allowed her to focus on problems other than her own, Dana left Erik’s house knowing that while they had many a difficult challenge ahead, she would do all in her power to assure him the happiness he deserved. With a wistful sigh, she hoped one day the same blissful happiness would find her as well.

Brendan spent one of the most wretchedly miserable afternoons of his life waiting for Dana to come for him. When she had not appeared by nightfall, he began to fear she was waiting until her younger brother and sister had gone to bed to spare them what he was certain would be a horribly gruesome scene.

He sat alone in Erik’s house, valiantly attempting to gather the courage to withstand whatever lay ahead, and when Moira appeared with his usual ample supper tray, he seized the opportunity to find out all he could from her.

“Stay with me awhile,” he invited in Gaelic, but his grin was shaky.

Moira handed him his supper, but she kept her gaze demurely focused on the tray. “No, I mustn’t tarry, or I’ll be missed.”

She had replied in their native tongue, but her accent sounded peculiar to Brendan until he realized she had probably had scant opportunity to practice their language if she had spent her whole life among Danes. Feeling like a condemned man, he had no appetite and set the wooden tray aside.

When he turned back to face Moira, he recalled she was such a shy young woman that he had never actually seen her face clearly. Her hair was a rich chestnut brown that fell loose over her shoulders, partly concealing her features like a carelessly worn veil. Curious, he reached out to tilt her chin up so he could get a good look at her face.

To his surprise, Brendan found Moira’s blue eyes quite attractive. Her nose was a trifle long and her mouth a bit too wide, but he thought if she had a livelier personality and smiled often, those slight flaws would go unnoticed. She was no more than five feet tall and seemed almost childlike compared to Dana, who stood even with his shoulder. He stopped himself then from any further comparison between maid and mistress, for Moira excited not the slightest bit of desire within him, while a mere glimpse of Dana from afar set his blood aflame.

“You’re a pretty girl, Moira. You ought to tie your hair back so men can see that,” he began in an inviting tone.

The quiet maid’s eyes widened in alarm, for no one had ever said she was pretty. That so well-built and handsome a man as Brendan might think so unnerved her completely. “Thank you,” she finally managed to mumble.

“As Freya’s maid, you must overhear most of the conversations in the main house,” he continued smoothly.

Moira nodded, far too awed by him to respond more freely.

“What are they talking about tonight? Have you heard them mention me?”

Brendan’s smile was so warm, his charm easily overcame Moira’s reticence to speak. “No, Erik wants to clear land and build a house. They have been talking about that for hours.”

Mystified by that revelation, Brendan found it impossible to believe. “Dana hasn’t said anything about me? Are you certain?”

“She never talks about you,” Moira insisted, not realizing how insulting her remark sounded. “Now I must go.”

Brendan made no effort to detain the petite maid when her comments had made no sense at all to him. Why would Erik want to build another house when there was nothing wrong with the one he had? As for tending a farm, he had thought Erik was only interested in raising falcons. And what of Dana? he wondered impatiently. He had expected her to be far too angry with him to want to discuss anything other than tearing him limb from limb. As always, he found the actions of the Danes on Haakon’s farm impossible to comprehend.

The tantalizing aroma wafting from the bowl of stew on his supper tray captured his attention, and he sat down and began to eat. It would be impossible to keep up his strength without food, and he still feared he would need every last bit of stamina he possessed.

When Erik returned to his house for the night, he was still smiling happily. He hummed softly to himself as he undressed and fell asleep promptly, leaving Brendan to wonder how long he would have to wait for the punishment Dana was sure to inflict. She was so high-strung he had not realized she possessed the patience to make him wait for a whipping. He had not thought her so cruel as to make him suffer the torment of a long wait, but now he had proof that she most definitely was.

As Dana dressed in shades of cream and beige the next morning, she realized with a pang of conscience that the approach she had advised Erik to take was a devious rather than a straightforward one, but she soon shook off any sense of guilt. She told herself there was a vast difference between facing problems squarely and barging headlong into trouble totally unprepared. She was merely trying to help Erik overcome Grena’s objections to him.

When they were ready to begin their explorations, Erik helped Dana mount Dawn’s Kiss. Brendan was standing outside the stable and gave Thora a boost to Rascal’s back, but Dana took care not to even glance in his direction for it would have been far too painful. Forcing herself to think only of her half brother’s future, she rode through the gate displaying the easy confidence she always showed on horseback. Brendan had disrupted enough of her summer, and she was determined to see he did not do so ever again.

The preoccupied Celt stood with his hands on his hips, his glance dark as he watched the small riding party depart. The last time this foursome had gone riding together, he had been invited to go along, and he wasn’t pleased at being left behind that day. He looked up at the sky, hoping to sight dark rain clouds that would soon drench them all, but the sky was clear and the gentle breeze free of the scent of rain.

How he was supposed to attend to his chores when he knew he had a whipping coming he didn’t know. Dana couldn’t have forgotten about punishing him. Was she merely too busy to bother with him now? After her ride, would the thought of watching him bleed be more appealing to her? Hearing his name, he wheeled around to find Freya and Moira walking his way. Not wanting his expression to give away the hopelessness of his mood, he forced himself to smile, but was only partly successful.

Freya gestured toward the stack of clothing in Moira’s arms. “I meant to send these things over to you last night. Erik said you and he were the same size, but I told my women to cut your kirtles a little more generously through the shoulders. If you don’t find them comfortable, then they can rip out the seams and try again. The breeches can also be altered, so don’t feel you must wear them if they prove too snug.”

Dumbfounded, Brendan took the two pairs of breeches and four kirtles from Moira, unable to do more than stare at the handsomely tailored garments in shades of blue, brown, and gray. Made of lightweight wool, they were the first new clothes he had been given in three years, and that they were such fine ones made accepting them graciously all the more difficult. He didn’t want to take gifts from Danes. He wanted to throw the clothes in the dirt and tell Freya what he thought of her daughter, but instead he clutched the garments as possessively as he had the pitiful rags he had brought with him from Grena’s.

“Is something the matter, Brendan?” Freya asked considerately. “We’ve not forgotten your undergarments. Is that what you’re thinking? They should be finished by this afternoon.”

Although overwhelmed by her generosity, Brendan finally found his voice. “I did not expect so much,” he murmured softly.

“We’re very pleased with your work, and when Erik said you needed clothing, I was happy to provide it. Now why don’t you go put those things away? Moira and I want to see the new foals, but we didn’t mean to interfere with your routine.”