Page 36 of Her Celtic Captor
He could not account for the misapprehension, but he did not doubt that it had been a mistake. Ulfric had got it wrong, Fiona too. Brynhild had her faults. No one could deny that and they were many, but attempted murder was not among them.
He stood and paced the length of the fishing boat, adjusted the blanket he had wrapped around his waist, then turned to view the fast disappearing shoreline of the Norse lands. What to do now? He could order Eiliefr to turn the vessel about and take her home, but he was not entirely certain the man would obey. Ten pieces of silver could be very persuasive. Even if the fisherman could be cajoled, Taranc was not prepared to return to Hafrsfjord as that would mean his own recapture and he had no intention of delivering himself back into slavery. He mightset Brynhild ashore elsewhere and leave her, but he could not be certain she would be able to make her way safely back to Skarthveit alone.
What reception might she expect when she got there?Ifshe got there. Ulfric would be far from happy to see her. To all intents and purposes, Brynhild Freysson had no home to go back to.
And if, by some unlikely chance, she was able to convince her brother to allow her to remain, what would that mean for Fiona? Brynhild believed the Celtic slave to have lied to Ulfric, and that lie had cost Brynhild dear. She would not forgive it, and he had only to recall the glint of ruthless determination in the Norsewoman's eyes as she delivered the most powerful of reasons for accepting her word, to know that Fiona would never be safe from her now.
If Brynhild wanted to kill an enemy, she would. She would not fail. Fiona was now her enemy, of that there could be no doubt.
He drew in a long sigh and tilted his head back to peruse the heavens as though inspiration might be found there. Perhaps it might. Taranc made up his mind.
He returned to drop down on his haunches beside Brynhild.
"Very well, I accept your explanation. You are telling the truth. It was a misunderstanding. A dangerous one, and one which might have ended in tragedy, but I do believe you that it was not done on purpose."
"You do?" She eyed him with suspicion. "Why? Why would you believe me if my own brother would not?"
"Did you say to him what you just said to me? About not failing if you had truly set out to murder Fiona?"
"Of course I did not."
"Then you have your answer, lady. It is not a pleasant thought, I grant you, but I do believe you to be ruthless enough,and clever enough, not to fail at such an endeavour. Fiona lives, as you have pointed out, so..."
"You will take me home. I shall explain to Ulfric, again. He will believe me this time."
Taranc offered her a tight smile. "I am sorry, lady, for it is not quite so simple."
She narrowed her azure eyes. "Of course it is exactly so simple. Turn the boat around. Now."
He shook his head. "We cannot return. I would be recaptured and back to hauling rocks for Ulfric or some other Viking. This is not a prospect I am prepared to contemplate."
"I would tell them?—"
"No, lady. We are not going back. You might convince Ulfric, or you might not. If you were to fail, he would not allow you to remain at Skarthveit. That much is obvious."
"I could go to my other brother, Gunnar. His settlement is to the north."
"You know the way? The location?" Taranc would be happy enough to consider a slight diversion. Perhaps this might offer a solution after all.
She shook her head. "I have never been there, but?—"
"Lady, I am not about to spend a Nordic winter tramping across your land in search of your brother's village."
"You need not come."
"Do not even think of such madness. Alone, you would perish in the attempt."
"I would not. I?—"
"Enough. You have been unjustly served, perhaps, though the dear Lord knows you contributed to the ill which has befallen you. That is of no matter now. You will come with me to Scotland, and?—"
"I will not! I shall not. I refuse."
Taranc gestured about him, at the small vessel, the expanse of sea which surrounded them. "I hardly think you are in any position to refuse. You are aboard this boat, and we are bound for Scotland, so..." He shrugged. It was a pity, he supposed, and she had a right to resent the circumstances in which she found herself. But it was done now, and they must make the best they might of the situation. "You should eat, and we have some fresh water on board. Then you might sleep for a while."
He rose to his feet, intending to seek out sustenance for his reluctant passenger. His own leggings were dangling from the rail, his leather belt in front of him on the bench. He picked up the belt and reached for the dagger he kept tucked in a small scabbard there. He would use it to slice off a few chunks of cheese for his captive.
She moved fast, faster than he expected, certainly. Brynhild's hand shot out from within the folds of the blanket. She grabbed the knife before he could get his hands on it, then she scrambled to her feet.
