By Love Enslaved (3 page)

“I don’t want Moira, nor is there anyone else I can hope to marry now, but thank you for wanting to help me. You have always been so kind to me and I love you dearly for it. Save your money for yourself, or the others. I won’t have any need of it.”

Knowing she had upset him badly, Freya let Erik go without argument, but she was thoroughly depressed by their encounter and promptly returned to her bed. The only arguments she and Haakon had ever had were over the cool indifference with which he regarded his eldest son. That she could now foresee disagreements aplenty over Erik’s future darkened her mood even more. Even if Haakon had never loved his firstborn, she would not deny that she did, and she wanted to see Erik have the happy life he deserved.

When Dana entered her room a short while later, Freya would not violate Erik’s confidence by explaining what had transpired between them and greeted her coolly. “Thora is an imaginative child. There’s nothing between Erik and Moira so please don’t embarrass him by mentioning that we thought there might be. Just go and get Brendan in the morning, and if he proves to have an agreeable personality, we’ll arrange for Moira and him to have the opportunity to get to know each other.”

Dana could readily discern there was far more to her mother’s conversation with Erik than the frail woman was reporting, for she had obviously been badly upset by it. Her face was flushed and the threat of tears was plainly in her eyes. Whatever could have happened? Dana wondered. “You know I love Erik too. If there’s anything wrong—”

“That will be the end of it, Dana,” Freya interrupted sharply. “We’ll talk of him no more.”

Since her mother seldom gave such explicit commands, Dana respected her wishes and left to summon Moira to help her dress. As she prepared for the evening meal, she couldn’t stop wondering why her mother’s mood had changed so suddenly. Erik would know the reason why, of course, but since she had been forbidden to ask him what had happened, she would not. Still, if the subject of marriage came up between them, she would most definitely encourage her half brother to talk.

Chapter Two

The following morning both Dana and Erik were so lost in their own thoughts that they were halfway to Grena’s farm before they realized they had failed to bring along an extra horse for Brendan to ride home on. While they laughed at that oversight, neither could believe the other hadn’t had the presence of mind to remember such an obvious detail.

Chagrined, Erik dismissed the problem as one of no consequence. “Let’s have him follow us home on foot. It’s not too long a walk.”

“No,” Dana argued persuasively. “That would be a poor way to welcome him to our home.”

In the teasing tone he often used when they were together, Erik dismissed that comment as utterly ridiculous. “He is a thrall, dear sister, not an important guest we must impress.”

While that was true, having a thrall on their farm would be such a novelty Dana was not at all certain how they should treat the man. But she did not want to get off to a bad start. She knew some masters treated their slaves well, but many more did not. From what she had observed, her aunt was neither cruel nor kind, but merely indifferent to her hapless slaves’ welfare.

Dana had never inquired about the reason for her father’s preference for staffing his farm with freemen. Haakon was not the type of man whose authority could be questioned on any matter, let alone the manner in which he chose to run his home. He was an affectionate man, a loving father, but also one who insisted upon strict obedience to his commands. She had never defied any of his rules, and could not even imagine a situation which might lead her to do so. The very thought of crossing so determined a man made her shiver with dread. She was the very best of daughters, and had never caused the man she both admired and feared a moment’s worry.

Until now, she thought with a painful stab of guilt, but since the decision to bring Brendan to their farm had not been hers, Dana decided her only choice was to make the best of the situation and have confidence that her mother would be able to soothe her father’s temper as she always had. That happy thought brought a smile to her lips. Haakon might be able to strike terror into his children’s hearts with an angry glance, but her mother had always loved the man far too much to fear him.

Turning her thoughts to the problem at hand, Dana knew it was only common sense that a slave who was well treated would be a more willing worker than one who was abused, and she made up her mind to treat Brendan as fairly as possible. She would not make him walk to her home on his first trip there.

“Grena has horses aplenty. We’ll just have him borrow one.”

Complaining of fatigue, Freya had not left her bed that morning, and Dana didn’t know whether it had been Grena’s visit that had taxed her mother’s small store of strength or her conversation with Erik later that afternoon. The pensive redhead peeked at her half brother’s expression and, finding him equally preoccupied, she made a sincere request rather than pester him with questions.

“No matter how difficult Brendan proves to be, we needn’t trouble my mother. Let’s agree to handle him ourselves.”

Devoted to Freya, Erik was happy to oblige. “I understand. She’ll hear no complaints from my lips, and I’ll see the servants don’t bother her either.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Erik. There is so much to be done each day, and although I try my best to see everything runs as smoothly as it always has for Mother, I fear I’m not nearly as good at it as she is.”

Surprised by the confession, since Dana had a confidence well beyond her seventeen years, Erik reached over to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. “You’re doing beautifully. Freya has merely had more practice at running the farm than you, that’s all.”

While Dana was certain the compliment was undeserved, she was grateful for it as Erik’s approval meant a great deal to her. But it was the agonizing slowness of her mother’s recovery rather than maintaining the efficient routine of the farm that weighed most heavily on her mind. Her fourteen-year-old brother, Soren, provided no help at all, for he did little other than complain endlessly that he was old enough to have gone trading with his father, while Thora’s incessant curiosity and seemingly limitless energy often landed her in trouble. Summers were never completely free of care with her father and older brother gone, but as Dana reviewed her many problems, she hoped with all her heart the time would pass quickly this year.

Seated at the gate, Brendan grabbed up the small bundle containing his meager possessions and leapt to his feet when he saw two riders approaching. When they came close enough for him to make them out clearly, he found it difficult not to gape like a witless fool, for he had never dreamed such a striking pair would come for him.

It was the young woman’s bright halo that captured his attention first, but as she drew near he discovered that heavenly glow was an illusion created by the rays of the morning sun being reflected off her golden-red curls. Never had he seen a woman with such a glorious shade of hair, for it rivaled even the vibrant colors of a sunset for beauty. Kissed by the sun with each turn of her head, the glossy tresses fell in a cascade of ringlets that reached clear past her waist.

As his glance strayed to her face, Brendan was even more awed to discover her remarkable hair merely complemented delicate features of exquisite perfection. Her flawless skin was the pale golden shade of rich cream and her lashes were so long and thick that they veiled the color of her eyes, but he imagined they must be as clear a blue as the summer sky.

The astonishingly lovely young woman was dressed in a pale pink chemise topped with a loose tunic of deep rose whose hem was decorated with a wide band of gold braid. Her garments were easily the finest he had ever seen. The chemise was plainly silk and the tunic of whisper-light wool, and although he dared not reach out to touch it, he knew the beautifully woven fabric would have the softness of a sparrow’s breast.

The twin brooches that secured the tunic to the front of her chemise were gold, and the keys suspended from the right one showed her to be the mistress of her household. Brendan thought her very young for that much responsibility, but she carried herself with an unmistakable pride that convinced him she was fully capable of handling it.

He knew she must possess wealth beyond measure if she chose to ride in such costly attire. As if her appearance were not dazzling enough, she seemed to have selected her mount to complement her outfit, for she rode astride a dapple gray mare whose flowing white mane and tail had been decorated with pink satin bows trailing long streamers. She presented a vision of such incomparable beauty it was all Brendan could do to wrench his gaze away and turn toward her companion.

Her escort appeared to be in his midtwenties, as Brendan was. While his kirtle and breeches were of dove-gray wool rather than brightly colored like the young woman’s regal attire, his garments were as handsomely tailored as those Brendan had once owned. The man was quite handsome, but dark for a Dane. That puzzled the slave, as did the fact that his features, while definitely masculine, in some faint way resembled the woman’s, leading him to think they were kin despite the sharp contrast of their coloring.

Struck speechless by the magnificence of the pair, Brendan swallowed hard in an attempt to overcome his dismay. With effort he adopted his usual fierce mask of disdain and straightened his shoulders proudly. He didn’t care how attractive or rich these two were. They were still Danes, and that was reason enough to despise them. He prepared himself to hate them most thoroughly, as he had all the others who had claimed to own him.

“I am ready to go,” he announced clearly.

While he had been observing her with a rapt glance, Dana had been every bit as impressed by Brendan’s appearance as he was by hers, but for completely different reasons. She knew the Celts had once been a proud race, and from the looks of this man she did not think those days were long past. She was also surprised to find him fair-haired and blue-eyed, as were most of her countrymen. While his hair was overlong, and his cheeks and chin darkened with several days’ growth of beard, she thought that with more care to his appearance he might prove remarkably handsome.

He stood just over six feet tall with a lean yet muscular build that his snug-fitting kirtle and breeches displayed in unseemly detail. It was no wonder Grena’s women thought him attractive, she mused silently, for his own clothing left so little to her imagination he might just as well have been standing before her nude.

When he raked his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to keep it off his forehead, she realized he probably did not own a comb and instantly forgave him for looking so unkempt. That her aunt could have allowed him to remain in the same wretched attire in which Jørn must have bought him sparked her anger. Grena did not lack for anything, so it was inexcusable that she had not treated this man far more kindly than she obviously had.

Pointing to his cloth-wrapped package, Dana inquired sympathetically, “Is that all you have to bring?”

Brendan shrugged, not knowing how she expected him to reply. He considered himself fortunate to have an extra set of clothing. Did this elegant creature expect him to have a wagonload of belongings?

Seeing his confusion, Dana feared he did not speak her tongue nearly as well as his brief greeting had made it seem. “Whenever you do not understand me, you must say so,” she explained with exaggerated care. “It will save us both many a problem.”

While Dana’s advice was well-intended, Brendan reacted as though it had been a gross insult. “I am not stupid,” he replied in a voice more suited to yelling across a noisy barnyard than to conversing with a fine lady. “You needn’t treat me as though I were an ignorant fool.”

Grena had referred to him as surly, and Dana now understood why. How the man had twisted her question into grounds for a heated argument she didn’t know, but she would not respond in kind. Rather than tell him she expected far better of him, she decided to wait until they had returned home, where she could also make his duties clear.

Continuing as though he had not spoken rudely, Dana’s voice was soft with an inviting, musical lilt. “Saddle a horse while I tell Grena we are here. Do not keep us waiting, for we are needed at home.” Urging her mare past him, she dismissed the disheveled slave with a slight nod.

Rather than run to follow her orders, Brendan was so intrigued he remained at the gate to watch Dana approach her aunt’s home. She rode with a graceful ease he knew came from an innate skill rather than merely a desire to impress others, and that angered him all the more. He was disgusted with himself for not giving the good impression he had intended, but in his present wretched state he doubted it would have been possible with such a well-bred young lady. Grena had not told him why he was being sent away, merely that he was leaving that morning. In the past his situation had always gone from bad to worse, but now he wondered if his luck had finally changed, for surely the serene red-haired beauty would have a fine farm and many slaves. He would probably have little work to do.

When Brendan stood transfixed, studying Dana with an insolent gaze of which he did not approve, Erik quickly lost his temper. “Can you ride?” he asked caustically.

“Of course I can ride!” Brendan exclaimed proudly as he wheeled around to face the dark-haired stranger.

“Do not make the mistake of believing Dana’s sweetness covers a weakness of character or a lack of resolve. When she tells you to do something, do it immediately, not after you have daydreamed half the morning away. Now go get a horse and be quick about it,” Erik commanded firmly.