Page 29

W hat his question lacked in finesse it certainly made up for in the element of surprise.

Naturally Brynhild did not answer and he had not really expected her to.

She could only gape at him, wide-eyed. Most telling, though, she did not recoil in horror.

Well, not entirely. She had backed away, shaking her head.

He did not miss the sudden shimmer of tears, nor did he mistake the flash of curious vulnerability instantly quashed.

Taranc took that as her wordless response and allowed the matter to drop for the time being.

It was not as though he intended to take her right there on the fishing vessel, with Eileifr looking on.

There would be time enough when they reached Aikrig.

He would need to revisit his view on marriage.

Although his natural instinct had not changed, he still believed a marriage between himself and Brynhild Freysson would be a prickly affair at best, he had to admit the prospect was not without its compensations.

Sweet Jesus, but the woman had his cock gripped in a more or less permanent state of hardness.

It was beginning to actually hurt. For her part, she was wary of him, badly frightened by something she refused to name, but he was now convinced she was not immune to him and for that he thanked his Maker.

For certain, the sort of marriage which Eirik Bjarkesson would have found acceptable would not suit Taranc.

He intended to bed her, and he would do it well and thoroughly and very, very often.

His little Viking had but to come around to the idea.

She spent much of their second day at sea asleep, or pretending to be. He allowed that and busied himself assisting Eiliefr. Just before sunset they sighted land.

"Shetland," announced Eiliefr. "By first light we shall be at Orkney, and soon after we shall reach the coast of Scotland. Your village is perhaps a half day's sailing down the eastern coast."

Taranc nodded. He had a fair idea of the course they were on and fully expected to take his next noon time meal at his own table in Aikrig.

A couple of hours after dawn broke he crouched beside Brynhild and shook her by the shoulder. She peeped out of the blankets at him, her deep blue eyes apprehensive. Taranc produced a finely carved bone comb, yet another of the useful items so helpfully supplied by her brother.

"We are nearing our destination. I thought you might wish to make use of this before meeting anyone."

She blinked at him, but took the comb. "Thank you."

He smiled and reached for the rope which still bound her ankle.

"We will be going ashore in an hour or so.

" He set her loose. "I trust you will not find it necessary to fling yourself overboard, but I should warn you, if you do I shall not be best pleased at being forced to dive in after you a second time.

By now you will appreciate the likely consequences of such foolishness.

You are no longer a prisoner, Brynhild. You are now a free woman… of Scotland."

He might have wished she appeared less daunted at that prospect.

Taranc stood at the bow and watched as his former home swelled in the distance, eventually filling his vision.

Little had altered in the months he had been away, and he was glad of it.

Brynhild came to stand at his side, her pale hair combed and freshly plaited, and her crumpled tunic smoothed out as best she might manage it.

"It is smaller than I imagined."

He nodded at her observation. "Aye, Aikrig is but a fishing village, a hamlet really. Pennglas, the main village, lies about a mile inland and is larger."

"Which house is yours?"

"Ours, " he corrected. "That one, there, at the brow of the incline, just before the trees." He pointed to the largest of the dwellings, a single storey structure made of stone and timber, with a turfed roof.

He supposed it was not unlike a Viking longhouse in external appearance, though no smoke billowed through the roof.

In a Viking dwelling the fire would never be allowed to go out.

He had to assume that in his absence his family had not found it necessary to keep the blaze going.

That would have to change and he had no doubt that Brynhild would be equal to the task.

He turned to regard her solemn features.

"You will keep our home and I know that you will do so with your usual efficiency. However, I will expect you to treat our servants well. Annag, my cousin, will help you and I expect to hear no tales of whippings, stocks or cold baths. Do I make myself clear?"

She glared at him, her spine stiffening. "You hardly know me, yet you think to dictate on such matters. I am a fine manager of servants. I expect people to work hard, but I am fair and our house thralls loved me."

"Brynhild, let us not have any illusions on this matter. No one here is a thrall, or a slave. You will treat them accordingly or face the consequences. Do I need to elaborate?"

She glared at him, bristling with resentment. "No, you do not. You will spank me."

"Indeed. So, are you ready to greet your new family? I believe my mother is already on the beach. She has seen us." He raised his arm to wave at the diminutive figure dancing and skipping about on the dark gold expanse of damp sand. "She will be relieved to see me, I do not doubt. And surprised."

"I expect she will be even more surprised to see me," observed Brynhild.

Taranc did not disagree. He helped his reluctant companion ashore, lifting her in his arms to ensure she was not called upon to wade through the thigh-deep waves in order to reach dry land.

He set her down then turned to accept the enthusiastic hug from his mother.

Tears streamed across the older woman's cheeks as she greeted the son she had believed lost for good.

"I thought you perished, you and all the others.

Oh, thank the dear, sweet Lord that you are returned to us.

And the rest? Have they also escaped? What of Fiona?

" She peered over his shoulder at the fishing boat, Eileifr was already setting out to sea again, eager to be away from this hostile foreign shore. "Are there no others with you?"

"Alas, no. Though I do have a companion I would wish you to meet. This is Brynhild Freysson. She is to make her home here, with us." He steadfastly avoided catching Brynhild's eye, but her tense intake of breath was not to be missed. He thought it best to press on. "Are Morag and Annag here also?"

"Aye. Though Annag has gone on ahead to prepare your house."

"Good." Now he did chance a look in Brynhild's direction.

"I told you she would help." He extended his hand and took her cold one, then began to lead her up the beach.

On all sides they were greeted by excited, joyful shouts as the villagers rushed to welcome him, to shout their questions about the fate of loved ones still missing, to pat him on the back and thank the Lord and all the saints for his safe delivery back among them.

Taranc accepted their good wishes with easy charm, shouldering his way forward until he reached the threshold of his own dwelling.

He gestured Brynhild to step inside, followed by his still beaming mother.

He bestowed one final, grateful smile on the villagers who had flanked him all the way here, thanked them for their warm welcome, then he went inside and closed the door.

The room was windowless and the interior was dark when the door was shut. Four pairs of female eyes regarded him in the dim lamplight. The youngest among them, his cousin Annag, darted forward to throw her arms about him. "I knew you would return, I knew it. You could not be dead."

"Annag, it is good to see you. I trust you have been well."

"Aye, but I missed you."

"I missed you too, little cousin." He set her from him and smiled down into her excited features. "I have brought someone I want you to meet. This is Brynhild Freysson. She is to live here too from now on so I hope you will make her welcome and help her to settle in with us."

"Live here? With you? But... Fiona?"

"Fiona has stayed in the Norseland. She is to wed the Viking who came here." He was not entirely certain of this, though he believed it would eventually be the way of it so saw no reason not to embellish what would likely become the truth.

The girl paled. "But, he will be cruel to her. I saw him, he was fearsome and wild, a savage."

Taranc shook his head. "He will not, or I would never had left her there. She is happy with him, and safe. The Viking is Brynhild's brother."

"Her...brother? Then, she is one of them?" Annag eyed Brynhild with undisguised fear and suspicion.

"One of us now. And our journey has been a long one. Is there food, perhaps? A place where Brynhild might rest? Fresh clothing?"

As he had expected, his requests brought forth a flurry of eager activity as the women of his family rushed to provide for his needs.

He guided Brynhild into the one decent chair and perched on the carved arm to watch as platters were brought to the table, fires re-lit, dust swept aside in a rush to make his home fit to live in.

He laid his hand on her shoulder to prevent her from taking charge.

"Soon," he murmured. "For today, you will watch, learn, allow them to know you. "

"You told them I am to live here, with you," she hissed. "Why?"

"Because you will. It will be simpler."

"But you do not wish to marry me."

"I believe we would both live to regret such a move but I have decided I may be prepared to consider it even so."

"You need not trouble yourself, Celt. I shall make my own way."

Murdina glanced their way, her attention attracted by the sharpness in Brynhild's tone. Taranc smiled at his mother. "Brynhild is quite overwhelmed. It has been a stressful journey and she is very tired. I wonder, would you allow us an hour or so of privacy, perhaps?"