Page 66 of Her Celtic Captor
"Let me help ye, lady. We shall take refuge in the manor house with Lord Dughall."
Brynhild gathered her wits, and with her returning senses came temper. White hot, searing anger surged through her. She staggered back, shaking her head.
Vikings? Vikings dared to come here, to her home?
Herpeople?
She would not stand for it.
"You go on to the village, find safety and tell Lord Dughall what is happening. Bid him see everyone safely inside, the doors barred. I shall go to the beach."
"No, ye cannot. Taranc would?—“
Brynhild glowered down at the smaller woman. "I am a Viking. These invaders aremypeople. They need to know they are not welcome here, that there is nothing on this shore for them. I shall stand beside Taranc and tell them as much."
There were more protests, more pleading that she look to her own safety and that of her child and accompany the fleeing villagers, but Brynhild was no longer listening. She gathered her cloak about her and started back down the hill, her step brisk and purposeful as she headed for the beach and for Taranc. Together they would face down these Nordic raiders and send them back into the sea.
She encountered others as she went, others from Aikrig, all dashing headlong up the narrow lane in search of safety. She caught snatches of conversation as the villagers rushed past.
"I remember him, the tall one with the yellow hair."
"He was here before, the other time..."
"Lady Fiona... was it really she? It looked like?—"
Heart in her mouth, the truth only now beginning to dawn, Brynhild burst through the barrier of trees which shielded the beach from view. She stopped in her tracks, barely able to take in the scene before her.
All the Celts but Taranc had fled. He, alone, stood on the damp sand face to face with the tall Viking warrior who stood proud at the helm of his dragon ship as the vessel bobbed on the waves.
Ulfric.
Her brother. Here.
Brynhild beheld the tableau, unable to breathe for several moments. Taranc's confident tone rang across the beach.
"What is your purpose here, Viking?" He spoke in the Nordic tongue.
"Ah, now on that matter I would like to talk with you. May we come ashore?"
No!Every fibre of Brynhild's being screamed 'no!'.
Taranc was seemingly not of similar mind. "You may, Viking. And Fiona, naturally. Is that your boy I see there?"
Her brother inclined his blond head respectfully to the village chief before him. "Aye, my family is with me."
"Indeed." Brynhild could not fail to recognise the note of sardonic amusement which now laced Taranc's tone. "This promises to be quite the reunion then."
Ulfric appeared unsurprised at the enigmatic response. "She is here? And well?"
"Of course, though I would caution against paying your respects, Viking. Your actions were not well received."
Brynhild had seen, and heard, enough. She strode forward, incensed. "How dare you show your treacherous face here? You claim to be a brother—you are nothing more than a self-serving worm. If my husband does not fell you where you stand I shall do so myself."
She marched down the beach to take up her stance beside the man she had refused to wed but now claimed as her husband, the man she had chosen to spend her life with, the man who had saved her. Taranc had given her very existence meaning, a purpose. He had put a child in her belly, taught her to enjoy her body, to take her pleasure as she now knew she deserved, yet he seemed ready to betray her without a second thought. For reasons she could not start to fathom Taranc was about to welcome Ulfric onto their soil. It was not to be borne.
Silence descended. The Vikings who had remained on board the dragon ships with their leader gaped at her as recognition dawned. Their faces betrayed their utter confusion. Fiona, too,clutched at Ulfric's sleeve as though demanding some semblance of explanation. It seemed she was to be disappointed, at least for now.
Ulfric was first to speak. He angled his head toward her and plastered a broad smile across his duplicitous features. "Ah, sister. You appear...well." His assessing gaze travelled over her distended belly and his eyes narrowed. "Much has happened, I see, since last we spoke." His next words were aimed at Taranc. "Yours, I presume?"
