By love enslaved

by Conn, Phoebe

  That the flame-haired young woman would take it upon herself to strip him naked jolted Brendan as badly as his outrageous proposition had shocked her. When she had stepped close, he had been enveloped in the enticing fragrance of her perfume. It was a heady scent that flooded his mind with exotic images of the Orient. As one of her flying curls grazed his bare chest like a silken whip, the exquisite sensation provided a further assault on his beleaguered senses. The touch of her fingers as they brushed across the newly exposed skin of his hips sent a flame of desire curling through his loins that brought the immediate physical reaction he thought she should have anticipated, but he made no move to cover himself or turn away.

  "Isn't your effect on me proof enough that I'd make you a good lover?" he taunted invitingly.

  Despite her boast, Dana had not realized there was such a vast difference between a man who was merely nude and one who was fully aroused. That Brendan seemed so proud of himself revolted her thoroughly, but she refused to show it. Her gaze raked over him in a fiery wave that would have blistered the skin of a lesser man before she turned away

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  and went to the door. His torn breeches in her hand, she called to him as she stepped through it.

  "You have proved absolutely nothing, and I'll make no bargains with you. If you can't mend your behavior, then you'll remain in here until the summer's end." She slammed the door shut before Brendan could offer another of his obnoxious remarks. Her heart was beating wildly and her hands shook so badly that she fumbled with the lock. Her cheeks burned with a bright blush of embarrassment. She didn't see how she could ever release Brendan from his makeshift prison, no matter how good he promised to be.

  CHAPTER IV

  Dana flung what was left of Brendan's breeches on the trash heap as she ran toward the house, but before she reached the door she knew that was the last place she ought to go. How could she turn away the questions which were certain to come her way if she bolted through the door like a wounded bird frantically trying to outrun a hungry cat? She was far too distraught to provide a coherent excuse for her agitated state, and she would never be able to make polite conversation.

  Realizing that sorry fact, she made an abrupt turn, then slowed her pace as she walked to the oak tree at the edge of the meadow where she had first heard Brendan's name. Had it only been the previous afternoon?

  "Impossible," she hissed through clenched teeth, her temper still simmering. Brendan had caused far more than one day's worth of trouble. She leaned back against the old tree, taking comfort in the strength which had allowed it to weather more than fifty winters. She closed her eyes for a moment, but almost instantly Brendan's mocking grin came

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  to mind and she shook her head, trying to banish his image. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find Erik standing in front of her.

  "Oh, Erik," she began apologetically. "I'm afraid I've made things even worse for us."

  Dana did indeed look worried, but Erik doubted that what she feared was even possible. "Nonsense," he exclaimed with a broad grin. "You made the right choice in locking up Brendan. If a few days of nothing but his own company doesn't turn him into the most obedient of thralls, then we'll just lock him up again, and again if need be."

  Dana licked her lips anxiously, silently debating the wisdom of sharing the shocking terms of the ludicrous bargain Brendan had oflFered, but she swiftly decided against it since that revelation would only enrage Erik as much as it had her. "You'll have to take him some clothes," she stated instead.

  Erik reached out to grab a low-hanging limb, draping his arms over it as a comfortable support >yhile they talked. "Yes, I gave him some. He didn't have time to put them on before he went off after Soren."

  "It was the horse he was after," Dana reminded him. "I think I should take the stallion back to Grena's in the morning. With any other horse, I'd just wait for Grena to fetch him when she comes to see Mother, but I don't want to give Brendan any other opportunity to use the animal as an excuse to make trouble."

  "He can scarcely cause any trouble where he is now," Erik pointed out with a teasing grin. As far as he was concerned, their problems with Brendan were over for the time being, and he wanted to simply forget the man.

  Dana looked away quickly, not about to admit the slave had managed to do just that with his despicable bargain. "All right, I'll wait a day or two. Grena is sure to pay us another call soon."

  Dana was naturally high-strung, but as Erik studied her preoccupied frown, he feared Brendan had upset her more than he had first realized. "No, you're right. We ought to make certain that Sleipner is returned while Brendan is confined. I'll take the stallion back to Grena's in the

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  morning. That will be one less problem for you to worry about."

  *'I hate to have you miss working with the falcons two mornings in a row," Dana remarked considerately. "I ride nearly every day, I can go to Grena's as easily as anywhere else."

  Knowing her point was well-taken, Erik hesitated a moment before making up his mind, but when he had he stated his plans firmly. "I'll take the falcons out at first light and then see to the horse." He knew his offer was a reasonable one, but he also had the nagging suspicion that his eagerness to return Sleipner might just be an excuse to see Berit again. That was ridiculous, of course, as he could scarcely encourage tomorrow the friendship he had rejected today, but the haunting memory of Berit's stricken expression as he had rebuffed her attentions had made him feel guilty all day.

  "Erik?" Dana prompted, thinking the obstreperous slave was the cause of his pensive frown. "You'll have to take Brendan the clothes right away."

  "Why? He's not going anywhere."

  "I did promise someone would take him to the privy."

  "I can't trust that task to one of the servants," Erik realized instantly. "The belligerent oaf might harm one of them. I'll see to him myself after supper."

  "Just remember to take him the clothes so he doesn't get cold. It would be just like him to fall ill and die on us."

  Erik couldn't help but laugh at that dire prediction. "Not even Brendan is that obstinate, Dana. He'd not die just to spite us."

  Dana's lovely violet eyes narrowed as her gaze swept over her handsome half brother's amused expression. "Oh, yes, he is, and I don't want J0m coming to me demanding I pay him what he spent on the man."

  "All right, I won't forget the clothes, but there must still be enough furs handy for him to keep himself warm until I get there.'*

  Dana had completely forgotten about the fiirs remaining in the storehouse and now felt very foolish she had stopped for even one instant to consider Brendan's health. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a shrew."

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  Erik leaned forward to plant a light kiss on her cheek. *'You never do, dear sister, never."

  While she feared that wasn't true, Dana returned his kiss without argument, and the problems Brendan presented solved for the moment, they discussed Soren's punishment and decided to forbid him to ride for a week. As always, Erik's level-headed sensibilities calmed Dana's frayed nerves, and she felt up to returning to the house when they parted a few minutes later. She realized Erik had such a soothing effect on everyone. He was a very competent young man, and while Brendan had provoked him to anger, she was certain the obnoxious slave would have the same disastrous effect on any other man.

  Taking a deep breath, Dana promised herself she would not lose her temper again. No matter what disgusting thing Brendan said or did, she would not react with anger. Instead, she would remain firmly in control of her emotions. She was the mistress and he was the slave. She would not forget that fact nor allow him to disregard it either.

  With her family seated on either side of the hearth located in the center of the long room. Prey a could not help but cast frequent glances toward Haakon's empty place at her side. As master and mistress of the home, they normally shared one
of the wide benches placed between the four central posts which supported the roof. Ornately carved, the columns marked not only the center of the house, but the heart of the family as well.

  Freya missed her husband terribly, and not simply at mealtimes but at every hour of the day and night. She missed the sound of his deep voice and hearty laughter, and longed to again feel the exquisite sensation of his loving touch. They were so close a couple that when he was away she felt only half alive. As a young bride she had learned to focus her attention on her children when Haakon traveled, and that was exactly what she did this night. When she found not only Soren, but Dana and Erik unusually quiet, she encouraged Thora to talk about her day.

  The vivacious ten-year-old finished spreading butter on a thick slab of bread as she began an enthusiastic account of

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  how she had given Brendan a haircut. *'His hair is every bit as thick and curly as yours, Soren, and he hates having it trimmed as much as you do. It was a good thing I happened along, since Erik was making such a mess of the job he would have left the thrall nearly bald."

  Erik opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. "You're right, Thora. I'm a poor barber, it seems."

  Freya took a sip of ale and then set her tankard upon the small table which had been placed in front of her bench to hold the evening meal. '*I should have told you to stay away from the man, baby. What's done is done, but I don't want you talking with him again. I'm sure he's no fit companion for a young girl, so just stay out of his way. It's not your fault, Erik, I know Thora is always underfoot, but you must keep Brendan too busy working to have any time to chat with children. What did you plan to have him do tomorrow?"

  When Dana dropped her spoon with a loud clatter, Erik knew she had been as badly startled by the question as he was. **It will take me a few days to decide what he does best."

  "From what Grena told us, he is an expert horseman. Isn't there plenty of work for him to do around the stable?" Freya inquired with a curious glance. Her lashes were as long and thick as her daughters', and her face was now so thin her eyes were her dominant feature.

  "Well, yes, I suppose there is," Erik was forced to admit. When Dana gave him an encouraging nod, he continued with a forceful show of confidence. "I think I'll release the stable boys to work in the fields and turn their work over to Brendan. That will give him more than enough to do."

  "Good. For as long as he's here I want him to earn ins keep," Freya instructed with the quiet competence which marked all her actions. "After we have finished breakfast in the morning, bring him to me. I didn't feel up to speaking with him today, but I'm certain that I will tomorrow."

  Dana exchanged a stricken glance with Erik before she hurriedly attempted to change Freya's mind. "I really don't think that's wise, Mother. Erik and I can handle the man. You needn't trouble yourself over him. His presence here really doesn't merit your attention. He's already insufferably

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  arrogant. If you give him any of your time, he'll be so flattered it will make him even worse."

  Surprised not only by Dana's opinion but also by the fervor with which she had expressed it, Freya glanced at the other members of her family to see if they shared it. She found Erik's expression equally determined, but then he and Dana usually agreed. Soren was bent so low over his plate his nose was in danger of becoming coated with gravy. The fourteen-year-old's silence puzzled her, but she found it preferable to the stream of complaints he usually made during supper. As for Thora, her violet eyes were alight with mischief.

  *'I like Brendan," the lively girl announced when her mother looked her way. "I don't see how you can say I can't talk to him when you haven't met him. Maybe you'll like him too."

  ''Mother's right, Thora," Dana insisted in the same emphatic tone she had just used with Freya. "We know almost nothing about Brendan. We can't trust him like we do our servants. He might try to befriend you in hopes you'll help him escape."

  "That's silly. Fyn is an island," Thora remarked with a giggle. "He can't escape."

  "Let me put it this way, Thora," Erik said, swiftly coming to Dana's aid. "I plan to keep Brendan too busy to talk with anyone. If you pester him with questions, then he won't get his work done and I'll have to punish him. If you like him as you say you do, then you'll spare him that pain and keep away from him."

  Thora knew Erik didn't make idle threats, and rather than waste her breath arguing with him, she grabbed up her freshly buttered bread and took a savage bite. She continued to glare at her half brother as she chewed, letting him know that while he may have gotten the last word for the moment, she wasn't ready to concede the fight.

  That the conversation about the slave had become so heated only served to whet Freya's curiosity about him. "Soren, you've not said a word. Don't you have an opinion about Brendan?"

  Soren looked up then, his blue eyes smoldering with fury.

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  "I despise the bastard!" he shouted, and shoving aside the small table upon which his dishes sat, he leapt to his feet and stormed out of the hall.

  A deathly silence descended upon the long room, for the servants tidying up the kitchen had also heard Soren's curse and were as deeply stunned by it as his family. They all knew Erik's heritage and Soren's outburst was an insult and a shocking breach of manners.

  '*rm going to kill him!" Dana swore as she rose from her seat, but Erik reached out to catch her wrist.

  "Soren has been in a disagreeable mood ever since Haakon left. He didn't mean anything by that," the persuasive young man insisted as he coaxed the volatile redhead back down into her place.

  Freya sighed sadly, fearing she had caused a regrettable scene when it should have been obvious to her by his dejected pose that Soren was in no mood to contribute anything positive to the evening. What little appetite she had had was now gone, and she wanted only to go to her room and rest for the coming day.

  '*I really must speak with Brendan in the morning, Erik," Freya insisted as she rose from her place. "If he has stirred up such deep resentment after only one day with us, I don't dare let another go by without meeting him."

  Feeling utterly defeated, Dana sank back against the thickly padded bench as she watched her mother move away. Freya had always been graceful, but now she was so thin that her flowing garments floated about her as though borne by an unseen breeze rather than being suspended from her narrow shoulders.

  "1 don't know whom I dislike most at this moment, Soren or that despicable Celt!" Dana whispered under her breath.

  ''Soren," Thora spit out the name, as always ready to offer her opinion.

  Erik and Soren had never shared the closeness he and Svien did. Indeed, Soren admired neither his elder brother nor his half brother. He was simply jealous of them and envied the independence their advantage in years had given them. Since each had his own work, Erik seldom spent any

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  time with Soren, which he was certain only added to the strain that existed between them. Still, he knew the boy had not meant to insult him as well as Brendan.

  *'Soren's moodiness is a minor problem, Dana. Forget him. In the morning Til see Brendan behaves himself so you needn't worry about him either. Now let's finish this stew. It's quite the best meal we've had all week."

  Dana watched Erik and Thora finish the tasty dish down to the last drop of gravy in the bottom of their bowls, but she didn't take another bite. All she could think of was Brendan's mocking grin, and the prospect of facing him again so soon was almost more than she could bear.

  As Erik approached the fur storehouse, he could hear Brendan singing to himself. While the words of the song were in the slave's own tongue, it was obvious from the lighthearted nature of the tune that the Celt was having no difficulty keeping himself amused. He had not expected the man would be weeping over being confined, but still Erik was not pleased to find him distracting himself with so pleasant a diversion.
/>   When Brendan heard the key being turned in the lock, he sprang to his feet and took a firm grasp on the bearskin he had wrapped around his waist. Thinking it must be Dana returning to bid him good night, a surge of exhilaration coursed down his spine and he let himself hope she had realized his bargain would be beneficial to them both. He broke into a wide grin at the delicious nature of that possibility, but when he saw Erik standing at the door, his expression became a disappointed frown.

  When Erik first peered into the storehouse, he thought Brendan must have discarded his breeches in preparation to sleep. When he saw no sign of them he realized why Dana had been so insistent about his taking the Celt some clothes, and he began to chuckle.

  "What do you find so fiinny?" Brendan inquired in a sarcastic snarl. Knowing few men could project an air of dignity while wrapped in a bearskin, he straightened his shoulders proudly in an attempt to do just that.

  "I warned you not to underestimate Dana's wrath. The

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  next time you fail to curb your insolence she may take more than your breeches."

  Brendan took a deep breath and held it. He wasn't certain what Erik was threatening, but since he didn't think he really wanted to know, he hurriedly changed the subject. ''If you've come to take me to the privy, let's go."

  The days were lengthtening with the arrival of summer, and Erik had no desire to parade the half-naked slave through the twilight when his state of undress would be readily observed. "I brought the clothes I showed you earlier. Put them on first."

  Since he knew no matter what lay ahead that he would be better off clothed than wrapped in a fur, Brendan didn't argue.