Page 12 of Her Celtic Captor
"Lady, this does not concern you," intoned the arrogant Dagr as he retrieved his whip. "I shall deal with the slaves, and?—"
"All at Skarthveit concerns me," corrected the vision of loveliness. The venom in her tone did not escape Taranc, even ifDagr seemed oblivious. "And you," she turned her attention to Taranc, "you will do as I ask. Now."
Taranc bowed his head. He had no serious objection to carrying out this woman's instructions to render their new quarters habitable since that was of benefit to his people. He gestured to the Celts closest to him "You two, go and collect kindling. The rest of you can carry the blankets inside."
Most of the Celts dragged themselves back onto their feet and started about these latest duties.
"You women, you will accompany my servants back to the main village. You will be found places in the longhouses." The Viking female issued her further instructions and the four Celtic females eyed each other uncertainly. None of them moved as they looked to Taranc for guidance.
"What will happen to them?" Taranc stepped in front of the Viking woman, ignoring the furious chuntering of Dagr. He had already surmised where the real power lay in this little group, and whatever the slave master might like to think, it was not with him. "You will understand, they are afraid..."
The Norsewoman frowned at him. "They will not be harmed. The women will work in our longhouses, cooking, cleaning, weaving, caring for our livestock. They will have food, and shelter."
"Will you give me your word on that, lady?"
"Of course." She sounded indignant. "Why would I tell you false?"
"Of course," he agreed pleasantly. "You may go with them," he added, for the benefit of the Celtic females.
The blankets were soon transferred into the newly constructed barn and Taranc watched as the women who had made the gruelling journey with them trudged slowly across the grassy meadow in the company of the two slaves. The little wench chattered ceaselessly in a dialect of Gaelic which wasmore or less comprehensible. The young man was more taciturn, though he did appear friendly enough. Perhaps life here would prove bearable after all.
They would soon see.
He turned to face the woman again.
"There was another woman with our group when we were taken. Her name is Fiona, and she was in the company of your chief. Has she arrived safe?"
"What is this female to you?"
"She is—was—my betrothed. I would know that she is safe and well."
"The Celtic female is to be my brother's bed-slave."
Taranc drew in a shuddering breath. The prospect of another man fucking Fiona disturbed him less than it surely should, but he was concerned for her even so. They were to have been married, eventually and he bore some responsibility for her now. Fiona was a lovely woman. They had grown up together, first as playmates, then as a couple. There had existed an understanding between their families since he was but ten years old and she just five summers, but their betrothal had been formalised a couple of years ago now. They had been fond of one another from childhood, constant companions and firm friends but she had never struck him as being overly demonstrative. In a less generous moment he might even describe Fiona as cold, though he knew his own lack of enthusiasm had been as much at fault in their failure to find carnal pleasure in each other. He would not begrudge Fiona any happiness she might glean from her current predicament and Ulfric Freysson had not seemed unduly cruel. Nevertheless, the possibility that Fiona's virginity might be taken by force caused him real anguish.
"He had better not harm her..."
"She is my brother's property now. He will do as he sees fit."
"If he?—"
"Silence. The wench is well enough, and will remain so as long as she remembers her place here. All slaves must learn that."
Had Fiona been beaten?The words of this she-Viking certainly implied as much. Taranc eyed the woman with suspicion. "I wish to see her."
"My brother will not permit that. Nor will I."
Taranc was unimpressed. He had already made up his mind that he would seek out Fiona at the earliest opportunity and satisfy himself as to her circumstances. To accomplish this, he needed the Vikings to relax their guard in order that he might slip between them when he chose to do so. He bowed his head in apparent acquiescence and briefly considered the other tit-bit of information he had gleaned from this exchange.
The woman before him was sister to Ulfric Freysson. He told himself it was for Fiona's sake that he was relieved the beautiful Norsewoman was not Ulfric's wife.
"Did you mention a granary, lady?" He deliberately softened his tone.
She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly surprised at the change in subject. "I did. That is to be your task, the reason you were brought here. You are to construct the new granary, then you will commence work on our harbour."
"I see. And is there some reason that your menfolk do not build your own granary and harbour? I can hardly imagine the task to be beyond you."
She bristled and regarded him down the length of her straight and, to Taranc's mind, utterly perfect, nose. "We require the granary to be erected and in use before the onset of winter in less than two months' time so extra labour is necessary in order to accomplish that. This is why you will commence work at once. We cannot delay."
