Page 57 of Her Celtic Captor
“But I could have. How do you know? How can we know?”
“Brynhild, let it go.”
“I cannot. I… everyone here is so kind to me. Your people have welcomed me and I know it is because of you, because you kept my secrets and convinced all that I am a good woman, a woman to be respected. But it is a lie. I am not like that.”
“You are. You could be, if you?—“
“Yes, that is what I mean, what I am asking of you. If you were to punish me for what I did, I could really start over. Iwould have my pride back, my self-respect. I would deserve the respect of others, including you.”
“You know that you have my respect.”
“I do not. How can I, when you know what I did?”
Taranc sighed, but Brynhild noted he did not disagree with her. She strengthened her resolve as he continued.
“You wronged Fiona, that is true. Therefore, it is her forgiveness you need, not mine. I have no right to punish you.”
“I will never see Fiona again.”
“That is probably true, though we can never know what lies ahead.”
“I shall not see her again,” Brynhild repeated, her tone laced with the certainty she felt. “I shall have no opportunity to set matters right with her. But… but you could act for her, on her behalf. You loved Fiona, you cared about her and wanted to protect her. From me. That is why you agreed to help my brother, is it not?”
“Yes, you know I did. And I have explained my feelings toward Fiona.”
“I know, and I do understand that. You were her friend, her betrothed. You were close to her so you could act on her behalf.”
“Let me be quite certain I have understood you. You want me to act as some sort of proxy, to punish you for your cruelty to Fiona, and then to forgive you for it.”
“Yes. That is it, exactly. I wish to atone for what I did. I need to find a way to redeem myself and make amends. I will accept my punishment, whatever punishment you consider fitting, and from here on I will do all I can to aid Lord Dughall in his advancing years, as Fiona would if she were here. It is all I can think of to do. Is it enough, do you believe?”
“More than enough. And just to be certain that there is no misunderstanding between us on this matter, please know that regardless of any of this you have my respect, and myadmiration. You are a proud woman, I love that about you and I always have even though it drives you to do things you might later regret. But I am proud of you, and I am proud of the way you have survived the hardships and cruelty which you have endured. Although I wish the circumstances had been different, I cannot regret bringing you home with me.”
Brynhild levered herself up until she knelt beside him on the bed. “So, you will help me then? You will do this thing, for me?”
“Aye, if it is your wish. But if we do this, we do it right. Your punishment will be harsh, and it will be severe. It will have to be, if you are to achieve the vindication you seek.”
“I know that. I… I collected some switches on my way back from Pennglas today. They are over there, in the bucket by the door.”
“Ah, such dutiful contrition, my Brynhild. That is a promising sign. However, I may have another idea, one equally suited to the gravity of the occasion. A more… intimate solution.”
Brynhild’s heart lurched. She had envisaged a switching, or perhaps a session with Taranc’s belt. Either would hurt, she knew that well enough, but she would welcome the cleansing powers of the pain. Indeed, she was relying upon it. Now he appeared to be suggesting some other course.
“I am not sure…”
“You have asked my help, so the decision is mine, is it not?” His tone had hardened and Brynhild shivered. She recognised that timbre in his voice, that note which spoke of dominance and a man intent upon imposing his will.
“Yes, Sir,“ she murmured. “I am in your hands.”
17
“Tell me, Brynhild, do you have any ginger in your cooking stores?”
She knelt beside him on the bed, her expression little short of bewildered. “Ginger? I… I believe so. Why?”
Taranc allowed himself a wry smile. “Please find me a decent piece if you would. A finger at least four inches in length if you have it, the thicker the better. Whilst you do that, I shall bank up the fire since we will be glad of its warmth this night.”
He watched her from the corner of his eye as he crouched beside the smouldering fire and teased the embers back into a small blaze. He tossed a couple more logs on as she returned to him, a plump but gnarled hand of ginger balanced on her palm.
