Page 41 of Her Celtic Captor
"Where would I go? I know no one in your land. I have nothing..."
"I appreciate that. So you are welcome to remain with me."
She shook her head, despondent. "I am a Viking. My people have made war upon yours. Your people will hate me."
"Only if you invite them to do so."
"But—"
"Only you and I know what transpired in your land, between you and Fiona. No one here will hold you responsible for the actions of your brother or others from your land. No one has reason to hate you and I will not give them any such cause. You may start afresh, make friends, build a life."
"I had a life."
"And now you have another. Think about what I have said and make what you may of it." He completed the task of securing her ankle to the mast, leaving perhaps four feet of rope free to allow her to stand and move about a little. "Now, I believe Eileifr might appreciate some help in acquiring a fine supper for us. You will excuse me, lady."
The two men spent the next several hours at routine tasks about the small vessel. Taranc seemed to know how to arrange the sails, to read the wind and make adjustments to ensure that they remained on course. Eiliefr attended to his lines and also flung a net from the stern of the boat. He seemed well content with the outcome of his labours as he and Taranc hauled the catch aboard. Both men ignored Brynhild, so she was left to her own thoughts which whirled around in her head.
Where did it come from, her near confession?She had almost told Taranc. She had come perilously close to blurting out her secret. No one knew. No one must ever know, yet she had very nearly yelled it to the heavens. She must have a care, especially since his words about a new life seemed so tempting now that she properly considered them. Could it be true? Could she really leave her past behind and start afresh in this untried and alien land? She would be among strangers. Worse, she would be living among the Celts she had hated for years, but even so the promise in Taranc's words called to her.
She wanted this. She wanted to choose this, for herself.
Taranc had passed her clothes to her, now dried in the sun so she was properly dressed once more. She chewed thoughtfully on the salted fish provided by Eileifr and washed it down with fresh water, then completed several circuits of the mast before gingerly settling down to kneel on the deck again. Her bottom throbbed without mercy, her thighs even more so when she allowed her weight to rest upon them. She could not sit incomfort and she wondered if she ever would again. She wriggled and fidgeted as she sought some ease but her efforts were in vain. Once or twice she caught sight of Taranc's knowing look as he regarded her from across the deck. She wondered if he might again offer to rub away the discomfort. If he did, she might be tempted to accept.
By late afternoon she was becoming seriously cold through inactivity, bored to the point of screaming, and she was hungry again. Taranc strode past her to attend to the rudder and she reached out to catch his tunic. "May I have another blanket, please? If there is one?"
"Of course. You may have mine." He passed it to her.
She frowned. "You will require it yourself. Later."
"We shall share. That makes better sense."
"Share?" She hoped he had not heard the startled squeak in her voice though thus far he had missed little enough.
"Aye. Share." He did not wait to discuss the matter. Seemingly their course required further adjustment and this demanded all his attention. Brynhild shifted her weight again and groaned as another sizzle of fire assailed her punished thighs.
They ate an evening meal of more salted fish with bread and a handful of nuts each. The men sat beside Brynhild to take their meal and the conversation was convivial enough, though in a manner Brynhild found quite bizarre. Eileifr asked after Njal and informed her that his own sister had recently been delivered of a fine boy. Brynhild smiled as though there was nothing in the slightest way odd about their current circumstances and wished the new family well, then turned to speak to Taranc.
"Do you have a family? People with whom you share your home?" She had not intended to ask, but the question had popped into her head, and then it was out.
He nodded. "My mother, Murdina, and her widowed sister, Morag reside in a cottage in my village though they do not share the chief's house. That was to be my home with Fiona but I daresay you will find it comfortable. My cousin, Annag, lives with Murdina and Morag and takes care of my house too. I hope she has continued to do so whilst I have been absent. It is a hectic family but I believe you will fit in well enough."
"I am to live in your house? On what basis?"
He shrugged. "On the basis that I see no other obvious solution."
"It is not decent. There will be talk."
"Aye, maybe. It will not last."
"I cannot live with you," insisted Brynhild.
"Very well. You may make such other arrangements as you please."
Brynhild fell silent. What 'other arrangements' might she even consider? She chewed on her fish and said no more on the subject.
As darkness fell the men hauled in the nets and lines though they continued to tack onwards, making a brisk speed across the rippling waves. It had been agreed between the men that Eileifr was to remain awake for the first watch, and Taranc would relieve him after a few hours. Brynhild peered out from within her cocoon of blankets as the Celt approached and crouched beside her little nest.
"You may have your blanket back," she murmured. "I do not require it."
