Page 19 of Her Celtic Captor
"We are fishing, aunt. Is it not a fine night for it? My father allows me to come here in the evening, as long as I do not stay too late. It is early still, and look, we have caught trout, salmon?—"
"You will be fortunate not to catch the flat of my palm across your disobedient little backside, young man. Did I not expressly tell you to stay well away from the thralls?" She paused to eye Taranc with undisguised distaste. "In particular, Celts."
"Taranc is my friend."
The lad was nothing if not loyal, especially in the face of his aunt's mounting anger. Still, Taranc could not allow him to make matters worse for himself if that might be avoided.
"It is getting late, perhaps. And you have thoroughly humiliated me with your fishing prowess. I know when I am well beaten so let us call it a night for now."
"But—"
"Your aunt is right, you should be heading for your home now, and your bed. I shall do likewise, and I will see you soon."
"Oh no, you shall not see my nephew soon. I forbid it. I—" Brynhild stepped forward to take the boy by the arm and started to tug him away from the river bank. "And you." She turned to glare at Taranc over her shoulder, "You shall be flogged for being outside after dark. I shall tell Dagr, and?—"
Njal wriggled free and planted himself in front of her, his small body quivering with indignant yet impotent rage. "You shall not have him flogged. You shall not! He is my friend, I told you. My father will not allow it, and?—"
"Go home. Now." Brynhild's tone was low and uncompromising. "I shall deal with you when I get there."
"But—"
Taranc interrupted his further protests. "It is all right, lad. Do not worry about me. Go straight home, now, as your aunt has told you. I shall see to your rod, your bag of tackle and your fish. You may collect them from the slave barn whenever you like."
"I already told you, you and the other thralls may have the fish."
"That is most generous, Njal. I thank you on behalf of all. Now, I must bid you good night."
The lad hesitated a further few seconds, then ventured a glance into his aunt's stern features. Whatever he saw there was sufficient to convince him of the wisdom of leaving without further ado. He turned and sprinted away across the springy meadow grass.
Taranc watched him out of sight, then bowed politely to Brynhild. "Lady, " he murmured as be bent to wind Njal's line around his pole.
He expected Brynhild to stalk off after her nephew, but she did not. Instead, she remained where she stood, her eyes narrowed in a malevolent glare which remained fixed upon him as he busied himself clearing up his own fishing rod. That task accomplished he attached each of the three landed fish to hooks from Njal's bag in readiness to hang them from his own belt for the journey back to the slave barn. All set to leave himself, he made to pass the still fuming Norsewoman.
"You will excuse me," he murmured.
"Why?"
He glanced at her, surprised. "Because I am leaving."
"I mean, why are you spending time with my nephew. What do you plan to do?"
"Plan? Nothing."Well, nothing that concerns the boy, at least. "He is lonely, and curious. There is no harm in him. And I mean him no ill."
"I do not believe you."
Taranc's slender patience frayed. "And I do not care what you believe. Good night."
She moved fast, he would allow her that much. He barely even saw the slender hand which snaked from within the confines of her cloak to land a resounding slap across his cheek, and certainly he had no opportunity to dodge that first blow. Not so the second. As she drew back her hand to strike him again he grabbed her wrist and squeezed, only relaxing his grip marginally when she let out a startled squeal.
"I shall let the first slap go, since you are a woman and no doubt consider yourself provoked. But you shall not raise your hand to me again, lady, lest you wish to find yourself upended across my lap and spanked. Do I make myself clear on this?"
"How dare you? Let go of me! I shall?—"
"Do I make myself clear?" His grip remained firm despite her frantic tugging to be free.
At last, with no other choice if she was to be released, Brynhild gave a sharp nod. "Very well, I shall not slap you."
"Excellent decision. And I shall not spank you. This time. Instead…"
