By love enslaved

by Conn, Phoebe

  In no mood for levity, Dana issued a warning as she pulled away. "Better make certain that you don't. I think he might be more of a pirate than a trader, and I don't really trust him, although I know my father does."

  He had not forgotten that Haakon was probably also a pirate, but Brendan wisely kept his opinion to himself. He helped Dana mount Dawn's Kiss, then gave her knee a loving pat. **Even if you are an illusion, no more than a dream, I still want to make love to you as often as I possibly can. Will you try to be here again tomorrow night?"

  Had he said he loved her and would fight for her at whatever cost, Dana would have found it easy to reply, but because he had not, a painful lump filled her throat as she again promised that she would try.

  Walking back through the woods, Brendan came to the swift conclusion he would have to return home, gather a band of men, construct a ship, and then return to Fyn for Dana. The Norsemen and Danes kidnapped beautiful women all the time, so why couldn't he? It was a bold plan, and periiaps an impossible one when so much of the voyage would have to be made through waters infested with not only Norse pirates, but Danes as well, but it provided the only bit of comfort he had as he made his way back to the clearing where Erik's new house stood.

  It was still dark enough for his approach to go unnoticed, but as Brendan reached the edge of the woods, he feh the eerie sensation he was being watched. Certain Dana would not have followed him, he glanced over his shoulder quickly, then scanned the tents the men had set up for shelter but nothing looked amiss. Thinking that his lack of sleep was

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  playing havoc with his imagination, he left the trees, but before he had taken more than a single step, he was felled by a fierce blow that caught him on the left side of the head.

  Landing facedown, and immobilized by an excruciating pain that encircled his head and shot down his spine, Brendan had to endure the further agony of waiting for the unseen assailant to strike him a second and fatal blow. He could feel blood flowing down his cheek, forming a gruesome puddle beneath his chin and he tried to call out for help, but managed to utter no more than a hoarse croak that was muflBed by the dirt in which he lay.

  He was certain that death would swiftly overtake him. A vision of sunlight dancing on Dana's flame-red curls filled Brendan's mind. He had always loved her hair, and he reached out, his grasp feeble as he tried to catch the end of a curl to draw her near. When an intense heat seared his fingertips, he yanked his hand back, horrified to find the alluring flames were real.

  At first there were only a few wisps of smoke. Then it billowed up around him in sufi'ocating waves as the flames shot high into the air. The brush at the edge of the woods had ignited quickly, and now several trees were ablaze. Again Brendan tried to call for help, and this time, terrified he was about to be burned alive, he managed a shriek that echoed through the whole meadow. He heard an answering shout, and then another voice he recognized as Erik's, but the smoke was too thick for him to catch his breath. Unable to call out again, he was certain they would never find him in time.

  He wondered if there would be anything left for Dana*to bury, or if she would know to put a cross over his grave. He saw her face so clearly then, the red of her hair as bright as the flames licking his sleeve, and it pleased him that his last thoughts were of the only woman he had ever loved.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Brendan had not expected to awaken, so he was doubly amazed to find himself stretched out on a bench in the expansive hall of Freya's home. He had regained consciousness slowly, and at first had only been dimly awarei of the voices that echoed all around him. Gradually the words had become clear, and he realized the people clustered nearby were discussing him. His head ached too badly for him to join in, but as usual he was infuriated not to be given a say in decisions concerning his welfare.

  Dana had been keeping a close watch over Brendan, and when she saw his eyes flutter open, she stepped in front of him to prevent the others from making the same observation. When Erik had brought the Celt slave to them at dawn, she had feared her feelings for him would be instantly apparent, but fortunately the controversy surrounding the mysterious cause of his injuries had captured everyone's attention and the depth of her concern had gone unnoticed.

  '*A11 we know for certain is that there was a fire," Dana stated calmly. "There's no proof that Brendan set it. Indeed, if he had, he wouldn't have been burned and surely he could not have struck himself such a brutal blow to the head."

  A man who relished any sort of argument, Jarald was on the edge of his seat. "How do you explain the fact he was in the woods in the first place?"

  Dana knew exactly what Brendan had been doing, but she dared not reveal he was returning ft-om a midnight rendezvous with her. As she attempted to supply some believable alternative, the wily thrall began rubbing his heavily ban-

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  daged hand up the back of her thigh and she had to first reach back to catch his fingers in a light grasp to still his caress. "Perhaps he heard a suspicious noise and went to investigate. Whoever set the fire clubbed him and left him to die in the flames."

  Jarald waved aside that assumption as unworthy of consideration. "I doubt there was another man involved. I think the thrall misjudged how quickly the brush would bum, then collided with a tree as he tried to dash for safety."

  "Brendan has worked with me from the day I decided to build the house. He wouldn't try and bum it down," Erik responded, echoing Dana's staunch defense of the injured man.

  "How can you be certain?" Jarald asked, keeping to the facts. "From what you say, the thrall was with Grena only a few weeks, and then he has been here a little over a month. How can any of you make a judgment about his character?"

  "He is a hard worker," Freya said. "And when Thora and Grena's twins foolishly took one of Haakon's boats, he was among the first to volunteer to find them/'

  "It was to his advantage to do so, Freya," Jarald pointed out with a ready smile. "For the more you thought of him, die better his chances were to eam his freedom." When Freya appeared skeptical of that argument, Jarald took a different approach. "You know how gready I value your husband's friendship, and I'm proud to think he appreciates mine." He paused briefly to allow the gracious woman the opportunity to make a favorable comment, and she did not disappoint him.

  "You're one of Haakon's best friends, Jarald. Surely you know that."

  "Thank you. It's because I'm such a good friend to your family that I've taken an interest in this matter, and I think I can see things much more clearly than you all do. Now the thrall was willing to return to Grena's and inform us of her intentions," Jarald continued persuasively. "When you refused to consider that plan, I think he went to Grena on his own to offer his services to her. She was undoubtedly the one who directed him to bum down the house, but the fool made the mistake of setting himself on fire instead."

  "Brendan is no fool," Thora contradicted sharply. She

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  was seated by the slave's feet, and gave his ankle an aflFectionate pat for emphasis.

  Correctly interpreting his mother's anxious glance, Soren todc his little sister's hand. "Let's go outside, baby. TTiere will be time for you to see Brendan later." The inquisitive child hesitated a moment, but knowing from experience she was excluded whenever the conversation got interesting, she followed Soren out the door without creating a fuss.

  "I can't believe my sister would be responsible for such a violent act," fteya insisted. "I know she is angry, and peiiiaps she feels I have betrayed her trust by taking Berit in, but still, to set fire to Erik's house is an extremely hostile response."

  Berit sat beside Erik, her fingers laced with his. "My mother was in the worst of moods when I last saw her two days ago. I think she would set fire to this house as well if she thought she could get away with it."

  *'Oh, Berit, you can't possibly mean that," Freya argued.

  Berit looked over at Dana's troubled expressi
on, and at Erik. *'I do mean it. I had hoped that we would receive a warning before anything happened, but perhaps the person Tm depending upon was unable to get away."

  "You have a spy in your mother's house?" Jarald inquired, astonished a young girl would be so skilled at intrigues.

  "Not a spy, a friend," the pretty blonde explained.

  "No, this could not have been Grena's woiic, I refuse to believe that." Freya rose and crossed to Berit's side. "I will send word to your mother immediately asking her to meet with me later today."

  Also rising to his feet, Jarald was quick to oflFer a word of caution to his hostess. "She will deny all responsibility for the fire. The only way to get the truth is from the thrall."

  "TTie man is barely alive," Erik remarked regretfully.

  "TTiat will make it all the easier to force the truth from him," Jarald replied with obvious relish for the tadc.

  That was a suggestion Dana rejected instantly. "No one is going to touch Brendan. We'll ask him to tell us what he knows when he feels up to it and not before."

  "The man is more ttioroughly smoked than most hams,"

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  Jarald pointed out with a hearty chuckle. ''He'll not live out the day."

  "ril thank you to keep such gruesome thoughts to yourself," Freya requested, summoning the authoritative tone she had frequently used before her lengthy illness.

  "Forgive me," Jarald begged. 'Tm only trying to help you with what is clearly a most difficult situation."

  Taking him at his word, Freya entwined her arm in his. ''Would you do me the favor of riding over to Grena's to invite her to come see me? She'll be reluctant, but she respects you as highly as we do, and I think she would listen to your advice."

  Jarald had planned to spend the day with Dana. He did not want to do errands for Freya, but because there was no way he could refuse the fragile woman's request, he tried to sound delighted to be charged with such a responsibility. He then gave Dana a charming grin as he invited her to accompany him.

  Dana found it easy to return his smile as she supplied a perfect excuse. "I would enjoy the ride, of course, but I'm afraid my aunt is as furious with me as she is with Erik and Berit, and the mere sight of me would ruin any chance you might have to bring her back here. I'm afraid you'll have to go alone, and perhaps we can go for a ride together another time."

  Because he hoped to impress both Freya and Dana, Jarald was forced to.accept the refusal without argument, but he wasn't at all pleased to be sent oflF with a message he was certain any servant could have dehvered. "I'll do my best to convince Grena to return with me, but I fear it may take a very long while."

  "Til be here when you return," Dana promised sweetly, but she hoped he would be gone all day. As soon as Jarald had left the house, she turned around to face Brendan and sat down by his side.

  "Can you tell us what happened?" she asked.

  "He's awake?" Freya exclaimed. "Why didn't you say so?"

  Brendan tried to make out the faces of those who came forward to surround him, but their features were blurred.

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  Dana was close—that he knew—^so the other red-haired woman had to be Freya. He assumed the tall, daric-haired man was Erik and the blonde with him Berit. He relaxed slightly then, thinking himself among friends. He ached all over, but the pain in his head was almost more than he could bear.

  *lt hurts," he managed to gasp.

  Dana reached out to touch his curls. Then, afraid she would only increase his pain, she dropped her hand to her lap. "You've a deep gash in your head, so it's no wonder you're in pain. Erik reached you before you were badly burned, so I'm sure it's only your clothes that reek of smoke, not you. Can you tell us what happened?"

  Brendan tried to speak, and when Dana leaned close in order to make out his words, he longed to pull her into his arms but lacked the strength to do so. Over the last few years he had had several brushes with death, but none closer than this one. Because the story she had told was a plausible one, he repeated it. He had not actually heard suspicious noises, but it provided a reasonable excuse for being away firom his tent. In too much pain to speak at length, he provided only the briefest details.

  "I heard someone in the woods but got hit from behind before I found out who it was. I didn't see them," he concluded, and closing his eyes, he slipped back under the blanket of pain that enveloped him like a shroud.

  Dana sat back, but did not rise. She was sorry now Jarald hadn't been there to hear Brendan's side of the story, since he had related it in so convincing a fashion. "'It's plain he didn't set the fire, but I'm afraid the person who did might try to harm us again."

  "Harm me, Dana," Erik corrected. "It had to have been Grena's doing. There's no reason for anyone else to want to see my new house in ruins."

  Freya raised her hands in a graceful plea. "The house suffered no damage, so I want you to go on back there. Search the woods for whatever evidence you can find. Footprints of men, whatever. I will never believe Grena had anydiing to do with this without proof that leads right to her door."

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  *'Who else could it have been. Mother?" Dana asked, her patience wearing thin. '*Berit has no heartbroken suitors seeking to get even with Erik, and Erik has no other enemies. Only Grena would be pleased to see the house he'd built for Berit burned to the ground."

  Freya sighed sadly, '*I know how it looks, but perhaps Erik will find something to prove otherwise."

  Erik hesitated to leave with Brendan such a sorry sight. '*rm pleased Jarald wants to take so active a part in finding the culprit, but don't let him near Brendan. I won't have him tortured."

  Considering what he had already suffered, Dana found the threat of that possibility deeply disturbing. **Don't worry," she said. **Whether or not Jarald trusts Brendan, we do, and ril insist he accept our view."

  Erik's glance locked with his lovely half sister's, and what he saw was a silent reassurance that she would guard Brendan's life with her own if need be. He still did not approve of her scandalous liaison with a thrall, but because her feelings for the man were obviously sincere, he trusted her to see Brendan came to no further harm. *'I know he'll receive the proper care from you. That's why I brought him here. Now come outside with me, Berit. There's something I want to say to you before I leave."

  As Berit left with Erik to tell him good-bye, Freya went to find Thora while Dana remained seated beside Brendan. The weavers came in to begin work, and other women moved about the kitchen baking bread and attending to the many chores required to keep the family fed. The house was filled with its usual bustling activity, but Dana heard little and saw nothing but the face of the man she loved. A handsome face that even in sleep was etched with pain.

  While she and Erik would have only a few moments together, Berit made good use of them. '*My mother has several men who would do whatever she asked of them. When she learns our house wasn't destroyed, she may try again. You must post guards to keep watch at night so no one else is hurt."

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  A slow smile curved across Erik's lips before he leaned down to kiss her. "You'll make a wonderful wife, Berit. I don't know how I've managed to survive without you all these years."

  Berit blushed at his teasing, but didn't give in. *'You can laugh all you like. Just make certain you aren't caught sleeping again."

  Erik nodded, for he didn't want to argue about anything when her kisses were so sweet. He had meant to savor only a few, but it wasn't until Freya and Thora walked by and bid him farewell that he forced himself to draw away.

  After sending her youngest child into the kitchen to request something especially nourishing for Brendan to eat when he next awoke, Freya placed her hand on Dana's shoulder. She spoke softly so she would not be overheard, but her meaning was very clear,

  "First, I want you to forget everything I said about your father and Erik the other day. I was overwrought and never should have spoken my f
ears aloud. Haakon is the dearest of husbands, and no matter what problems are here to greet him upon his return, he would never blame them on me. Second, I want you to leave Brendan's care to the servants. You are not to sit with him again, nor are you to feed him, change his bandages, or touch him in any way. Is that understood?"

  Because she and her mother had previously discussed the dangers in the closeness of her relationship to Brendan, Dana did not need to ask why Freya wanted them kept apart. She understood completely. Her mother considered the slave's devotion to her something to discourage, so She most certainly would not allow anyone to gain the impression Dana was equally devoted to him. Dana was devoted to him, however, and reluctant to leave his care to others. She rose slowly and did not immediately leave the sleeping thrall's side.

  "He didn't deserve this," she whispered sadly.

  "Of course not, but some good might come of it. He and Moira will have a chance to get to know each other well by

  the time he's strong enough to return to work with Erik. It's possible a romance might still blossom between them after all."

  Dana forced herself to smile. "Yes, that's true." Obediently she stepped aside as her mother sunmioned her shy Celt maid to take her place. She hoped Brendan would understand, but because he misinterpreted all her actions, she feared he would think only that she cared nothing about him. The truth was it broke her heart to have to leave his side.

  Disappointed not to have Dana's company as he rode to Grena's, Jarald was still pleased with himself. It was a pity Freya's family were all so impressed by the injured thrall that they hadn't readily accepted his guilt, but only Freya's devotion to her sister had kept her from believing Grena had been behind the fire that had nearly claimed Brendan's life. It was almost too perfect. No one had even suspected that the thrall had been the intended victim of the attack.

  *'I should have struck him again," Jarald mumbled to himself. He had been certain his first blow had shattered the thrall's skull. Still, he doubted the slave would survive more than a day or two after suffering so severe a beating, and while his bums were slight, there was always the possibility they might fester. The burly Dane swiftly convinced himself that Brendan was dying.