Page 35 of Her Celtic Captor

Brynhild nodded.

"There have been... incidents. A cold bath, I understand, if the chatter among your house thralls is to be believed, as well as numerous other insults and acts of meanness. You are not a kind mistress, Brynhild." His expression was grave, his deep green eyes chiding.

Brynhild bristled. What gave him the right to judge her? "I am stern, it is true. And I expect hard work from my house servants. Fiona was always difficult, always ready to make excuses, to... to..." She paused, tilted her chin back and met his gaze. "I run my brother's household, it is for me to decide how the house slave should be treated."

Taranc shrugged. "You tried to kill her."

Brynhild was dumbstruck. "Why would you say such a thing? I did not!"

"It is not I who say it. I was not there. Ulfric says it, and this is why he decided that it was no longer possible for you and Fiona to share a home. He fears for her. He believes you mean her real harm."

She shuffled away from him on her bottom, as far as she could go. Her back pressed against the planking which made up the hull of the vessel, her mouth opened and shut as Brynhild sought for words to rebut this nonsense. She was convinced that Ulfric had said no such thing, and certainly not to a slave.

"You lie."

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. "There was an incident with the stocks, three nights ago, I gather. You had Fiona secured there and meant to leave her outside the entire night. She would have died of cold had your brother not returned and freed her."

Brynhild was incredulous. Of course she had heard that preposterous suggestion made, her brother had accused her but she had denied it at the time. Why was this Celt spouting thesame ridiculous notion days later? "That is untrue. I did no such thing."

He appeared perfectly calm as he regarded her carefully before answering. "Ulfric says you did. He is convinced of it."

"Then Ulfric is mistaken. He would have come to realise that, eventually."

"He will not. Not now."

"But... this is ridiculous. Why would my brother believe such rubbish of me? He knows me, knows I would never stoop to such an act. I told him I was on my way back to her. He saw me, I was actually leaving the longhouse, I had my cloak on..."

"You decided to feign a rescue when you heard his horse."

"I did not hear his horse. I had no idea he was even at Skarthveit." Brynhild sat bolt upright now, her eyes locked on Taranc's cool, green gaze. For reasons she could not entirely fathom it was important to her that he, at least, believe her version of that night's events. "It is true I forgot to check on the wench. Njal was ill and I was worried for him. I sat beside his bed and for a while—a short while—I was distracted from my other responsibilities. I admit to that fault, but none of it was intentional. I left another thrall with her, Harald. It was his task to release Fiona after half an hour or so. I gave him instructions, he knew what was expected and I assumed he would obey me. I should have checked, I accept that, but I believed her to be safe. Certainly, I meant her no lasting harm."

The Celt furrowed his brow. "And this Harald confirms your story?"

Brynhild shook her head, her frustration almost choking her. "He was gone. I searched for him the next day but found no sign."

"That is... convenient."

"Is it? I hardly think so."

"And Njal? He could have told his father that you sat with him. Did he not do so?"

"He was asleep the entire time so he knew nothing of it. When he awoke the next morning his temperature was normal. I... I offered a goat to Freya and she interceded."

"So, no one but you knows about Harald. Or Njal?"

"Fiona knew. She knew that Njal was sick and she heard my instructions to Harald. She has lied to my brother, accused me falsely. And he has chosen to believe her rather than me."

"Fiona would not lie."

"Hah!" She waved a dismissive hand at him. "You would say that. You were to marry."

"Fiona would not lie, not about something so momentous. She told Ulfric that you tried to kill her."

"Then why is she not dead?" Brynhild spat the words at him. "Do I seem so inefficient to you, Celt? Do you not believe that, had I set my mind to do away with one insignificant slave, that I would have so spectacularly failed to carry out my intentions? That I would have relied on such a haphazard method, such a public method? How much more unreliable could it have been? Anyone might have passed by and set her free. And had I truly been intent upon murder would I have enlisted the help of another thrall, a potential witness to the act?" She paused again, her body shaking though it was with anger now, not the cold. "My brother should have known this. Ulfric should have known it was an accident, because if I had meant it I wouldnothave failed."

11

Taranc said nothing. He scrutinised the vehement features of the woman at his feet, could all but feel the heat of the crackling rage which coursed through her stiff frame. There was a familiarity to the set of her jaw, the determined glint in her deep blue eyes though he could not entirely place it. Of one thing he had no doubt, however. In that moment, he knew Brynhild Freysson spoke the truth.

---