The Blooded Ones

by Elizabeth Brown

  When one of the soldiers approached and took Agnarr aside, the older man made his regrets to Benjamin.

  “I need to attend to a few matters. I’ll leave you to see the rest of the land with Jora,” Agnarr declared before Benjamin could object. Jora, who had followed quietly behind as they made conversation, uttered a spurt of objection. With a single square glance from Agnarr, however, she shook off her previous dismay and stalked off ahead, muttering under her breath.

  “I won’t be long,” Agnarr laughed. He held his hand out in guidance to Benjamin with a smirk, then left them. Benjamin had no choice but to follow the fleeing girl out past the barn.

  She had a head start, and he could see that she held her skirts above her ankles in a very un-ladylike manner. He wondered where she had been raised, behaving as she did, knowing she was surely not the product of a strict English upbringing. With her obstinate speech, impudent objections, and all around annoying behaviors, she reminded him of one red-haired lass from a future time. As he widened his gait to catch up to Jora, he let his mind rest on what he had lost for a moment.

  The memories were few, but they burned him. The scent of her soap, the softness of her amber hair under his fingers. The warmth of her flesh next to his. He still longed for it. Missed it. And though he knew it never truly belonged to him from the start, he still ached for it. Yet she was his brother’s wife, and the very thought should shame him.

  It did, and he let it fade.

  “Well? Have ye stumps fer legs, or are ye just a clod?”

  He looked up at her taunt. Jora stood a few feet away, her hands perched on her hips, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts as she surveyed him.

  “What?”

  “You’re slow. I havna got all day. Come see the river, and we’ll be through,” she snapped.

  He shook his head a bit, more to himself than at her, then climbed the sloping hill to join her. At the top he could easily see what she spoke of. The busy river churned below, and on the far side of the swirling current they could make out the Elizabeth City port. It was the main inlet of commerce for tobacco in the city, and he guessed it was the port that Agnarr was in charge of. The man was not boasting when he said he had wealth and power; being the only one with authority to approve the sale of tobacco in the city, he probably had his pockets lined by every plantation owner for miles around and then some.

  “The warehouse belongs to Agnarr, as does the port. It’s the only one approved by the crown in Elizabeth City,” Jora said. There was a flat rock jutting up from the ground that she climbed onto, standing up tall to get a better view. She held her flattened hand to her head, blocking the sun from her eyes as she looked across the river.

  “I see it. Now come down. Best I not have Agnarr’s Seer fall in the river first time we’re out of his sight,” Benjamin muttered. She turned to face him, her head only slightly taller than his from her perch on the rock. The height put them more on level than they could otherwise be, considering the girl’s head barely reached his shoulder when she stood beside him. He was accustomed to looking down on others, but he could see it irritated her. From the smug look on her face he suspected she had climbed up on the rock just for the purpose of baiting him.

  “Well. Now you’re Agnarr’s man, are ye? And ye think he trusts ye?” she said.

  “I have no illusion of that, miss,” he answered.

  “Good. It’s best ye trust no one here.”

  He was rapidly losing patience with her veiled taunts, and he was certain she had a game to play as well as Agnarr. Making a rash decision, he grabbed her hand and jerked her down off the ledge, eliciting an indignant screech from her and earning himself a slap across the face. Stunned, he stepped back as he rubbed his chin, but kept his hand firmly on hers despite her effort to yank it away.

  “What did ye do that for?” he hollered.

  “I didna ask ye to touch me, did I? And my betrothed wouldna like it, not one bit!” she replied. “And I’ll tell him, I will, and he’ll–”

  “He’ll what, lass? Thrash me? I think you know he willna,” Benjamin said softly. The wild glare in her eye faded as she looked up at him, but he could see the undercurrent of something else brewing in her. Her eyes darted to her wrist, still held captive in his hand, then back to his face.

  “Let me go,” she demanded.

  “Not until I know ye willna slap me again. I’ve never hit a woman, but I aim to start if ye go on like this,” he replied. He was lying, but she couldn’t know that. As far as she knew, he was a heartless bastard that had just joined ranks with a man she seemed to despise. “So tell me, why will ye marry Reinn? Do ye do everything Agnarr bids ye?”

  Although he continued to hold her, she twisted her wrist, and he noticed she grimaced with the discomfort but did not back down. She glared at him, her eyes shining with defiance, and then to his surprise, brimming with moisture.

  Oh, good God, woman. Don’t start crying, he thought. All he needed was to bring Jora back hysterical and disheveled to give his new associate a good impression of him.

  “Here, I’m sorry, It’s surely none of my concern–” he explained. He took his free hand and patted the one he held, hoping to soothe her before she burst. If there was nothing that made him more uncomfortable, it was the sight of a crying woman and knowing he had caused it.

  “But it is. It is your concern,” she said softly. “Because I have a proposition fer ye as well.”

  He felt he should drop her hand at that point, yet he could not. She had twisted her fingers into his, therefore preventing his retreat. Suddenly the tables were turned, and he did not like it in the least.

  “Oh, do ye?” he replied. She nodded.

  “Ye’ll fare better in yer standing with Agnarr if–if ye ask for my hand. If we wed, you willna be here under his watch, and–and ye can tend the tavern with me in town,” she blurted out in a rapid rush. She looked as stunned as he did at her offer, her face turning a rather deep shade of scarlet against her pale cheeks.

  “And why on God’s earth would I want to do that?” he shouted. When he tried to drop her hand, she held it tighter.

  “Because you have no one here ye can trust. And I know things about ye!” she replied.

  “Resorting to threats now? Is Reinn such a terrible prospect ye’d throw yerself at me? Ye’ve known me all of–of one day!”

  Finally she dropped his hand. She lowered her head and turned her back to him, and he could see her shoulders shake as she spoke.

  “Aye. I’ve known ye one day, and I can see yer a better man than Reinn. Any fool could see that.”

  He raked his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated groan. This was a complication he did not need, one he had not anticipated in his quest to discover what sort of threat Agnarr posed. Now, in front of him, asking for his help, was a young woman he could not figure out. Was she devious in her plea, or just desperate? She was a Seer, after all, and skilled in the art of emotional manipulation. Perhaps she had some greater reason for begging his assistance. Or was it part of Agnarr’s plan?

  “Did Agnarr put ye to this?” he demanded. He grabbed her by her shoulders and swung her around, nearly lifting her off her feet. Her mouth draped open when he shook her.

  “No! Ye may be a mean spirited whoreson, but yer no bastard like Reinn is. I’ve had no other option until today, and I mean to take it,” she insisted. “Here. I will show ye,” she said, taking his hand again. She sat down on the rock and pulled him beside her, leaning over his lap so that she could place her palms on his face. He drew away at first, but then relented, curious as to what power the tiny Seer could have to convince him.

  Her hands felt cool at first, then warmed to his flesh as she held them in place. A rolling tremor surfaced in his belly and a wave of nausea assaulted him causing him to draw back, but she went with him and said something softly he could not hear. The curious sensation passed, replaced by a numbness in his skull, and suddenly it was as if a swell of water b
roke forth from a dam. Something flowed through him, with him, visions in his head that he could not decipher in a swirl, until the pressure of her hands increased and the images slowed their frantic dance.

  Now he could see them clearly. Jora, as a child, alone, then taken by Agnarr. Growing older, he could see her fear and loneliness as she lived in his household, treated no better than a servant. And then, although he could not picture it, rather he felt it, he knew Agnarr discovered her powers, and suddenly Jora had much more worth to him. He had witnessed in person the way Reinn treated her, so Benjamin was not surprised to see more of the same in Jora’s visions.

  Overcome by her grief, he put his hand on her wrists. When their flesh collided, another image surfaced like a bolt through his skull. It was Jora, and he was staring down at her. She was in his arms, staring up at him as she smiled and raised her lips for him to kiss.

  He opened his eyes, aware that his breath came suddenly stilted and that he was now staring at her in an entirely different way. He had no time to consider it before her palm cracked across his face. Again.

  “Odin’s tooth, woman, I swear I–I should–oh, damn ye,” he muttered as he closed his mouth over hers. He had no notion why he did it. Perhaps it was the strength of the vision, or the way it seemed so real, but suddenly all he wanted was to kiss her. She seemed in agreement at first, her body softening in his hands, until in a quick turn she pulled away from him. This time he caught her wrist before she could slap him, and as she sat there glaring at him with her lips deliciously swollen he wondered just what kind of man he truly was.

  “Ye’ll not strike me again, unless ye wish it returned,” he warned. She was shaking, but her eyes remained defiant.

  “I’ll not bed ye without a promise of marriage, Benjamin Dixon. And ye can keep yer paws to yerself until I get it!”

  With that threat she leapt to her feet, hiked up her skirts, and took off back toward the farm. He watched her round bottom swing with her agitated gait as she did her best to flee his presence.

  Had she sent him the vision on purpose?

  As he went after her, he let out a frustrated groan at the prospect. Not only was he knee-deep in partnership with a sworn enemy, he was being swindled by a she-devil Seer bent on marriage.

  He was not sure things could get much worse.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jora

  THE VISIONS DID not always obey her command. She had intended only to give Benjamin a glimpse of her past to show her sincerity, but when the bastard grabbed her hands it set her off like a flame. Yes, she had seen it as well, and her heart still hammered in her chest at the way he had kissed her.

  She took a gulp of cider, noticing how badly her hands shook as she paced the room. Both Benjamin and Agnarr would be back soon, as would Reinn. In all truth, she did not expect to be turned down in such a heinous manner by Benjamin. After all, she was a decent looking young woman, and marriage to her would elevate his standing with Agnarr. If Benjamin was so intent on forming an alliance, then surely he would see the sense in the match?

  She sat down on her bed when she heard the front door open, uncertain if it were Benjamin or Agnarr. It was too soon for her to face Benjamin after he had rejected her, and she had no further plan in place to avoid the marriage to Reinn. Agnarr would expect her compliance, and her time was running out.

  “Jora?”

  Agnarr knocked and pushed open the door as he called to her. She sighed. It was his home. Everything belonged to him, and he never let anyone forget that he was the one with all the power.

  “Come in,” she mumbled.

  “Did ye show our new friend about the property?” he asked as he loosened the collar of his linen shirt. He stretched his neck upward, running his fingers around the cloth to widen the gap, then pulled the ribbon from his blond hair. He raised an eyebrow in question as he made himself more comfortable. It made her increasingly uncomfortable the way he took liberties in her presence, especially in the one room she felt safe. Yet it was his home, not hers, a reminder she always kept fresh at hand.

  “Yes. It will suffice.”

  “And?” he asked. He sat down on the bed next to her and she immediately turned to put distance between them.

  “And what, my lord? He’s in awe of your wealth. He knows what a great man ye are,” she replied.

  He smiled and patted her hand.

  “So this is a good thing for us. Ye can marry Reinn right away, and Benjamin can stay here to see to things. I should thank you for your good fortune in finding him, lass.”

  Her eyes darted down to her lap. He left his hand on hers a moment longer than necessary, then cleared his throat as he stood. She did not want to keep him in her presence any longer, but it might be her only chance to sway him. Taking a deep breath, she stood to follow him.

  “Agnarr, I have a…suggestion for ye,” she stammered.

  He turned back quickly on his booted heel, his curiosity clearly piqued.

  “Oh, aye? And what might that be?” he asked.

  “A ch-change in plan. Reinn knows yer land here, he’s kept yer place for years. He doesna know much of running the tavern, but I do…”

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “...it will take time to shape Benjamin into what ye need. Why not leave Reinn here, and send Benjamin to tend the tavern…with me?”

  Agnarr appeared stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered his composure. The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin.

  “Oh, so I see. Ye’d wed Benjamin then, would ye?”

  She clenched her skirts in her fists, nodding.

  “I think it would suit ye better that way,” she whispered. “And I can watch over him. He’d have no secrets from ye,” she added, hating herself for proposing to betray Benjamin as an end to her own means.

  She was not comforted by Agnarr’s smile.

  “So when he runs back to his people, you will betray him? What a fine wife you would make,” Agnarr laughed. “Well. A wise offer, dearest. One I will give deep consideration to,” he murmured. He left, closing the door behind him.

  She sat down on her bed. What on earth had she done?

  They ate in silence. Jora noticed the conspicuous absence of Reinn, his chair beside Agnarr empty throughout the meal. Benjamin did not look her way or engage her in conversation, taking his share with only polite conversation to Agnarr over the affairs of the farm from the day. She wondered if Agnarr had discussed her proposition with Benjamin and if that was why Benjamin ignored her. Or perhaps Benjamin simply told the truth when he declared no interest in marrying her. Both options seemed equally as bleak to her, and it was all she could do to swallow bites of food down her dry throat as the men ignored her.

  The interlude broke with the crash of the door flung open against the wall. Reinn stalked into the room, unkempt from his day of labor and his eyes glaring for a fight. Filthy from head to boot and boasting the stink of the docks about him, he immediately strode to Benjamin and grabbed him by the collar.

  “Ye think ye can walk in here and take what’s mine?” Reinn shouted. Reinn made valiant effort to lift Benjamin off his feet, but Benjamin was comparable in height if not in width and it was a task Reinn could not accomplish. Instead, Reinn shoved Benjamin away from the table, and as Benjamin recovered his balance, Reinn drew his knife.

  “I’ll take what I need, and you’ll abide!” Benjamin snapped in retort. Agnarr stood up, the grin on his face amused.

  “Come now, we can discuss this–” Agnarr said, raising his mug to his lips. He looked to egg them on rather than stop them, and his gesture did nothing to calm the tempers ablaze.

  “Nay! I’ll not let this lie, Agnarr! We shoulda kilt this stranger from the start, be damned his magic blood or not!”

  Benjamin pounced while Reinn was distracted, tackling Reinn to the floor at the base of the meal table. The floor shuddered beneath her feet as the men hit the ground, and she stepped back to give them room as they pummeled each other. Neither had
the clear upper hand, and it was after watching them thrash for a few moments that Agnarr finally stepped in.

  “Enough!” Agnarr shouted. Agnarr grabbed the back of Reinn’s collar and thrust him aside, then offered a hand to Benjamin. Benjamin stood up yet did not take Agnarr’s assistance, but Reinn saw the motion and uttered a slew of oaths.

  “I’ve been at yer side since we were lads. And this is what I get?” Reinn demanded, turning his anger on Agnarr.

  Jora held her breath as Agnarr went very still. His amused grin faded, replaced by terse slanted lips stretched thin across his face. Reinn rarely challenged Agnarr, and when he did, it never turned out well for anyone.

  “Reinn, we will speak outside. Jora, clean up this mess,” Agnarr said evenly. Jora obeyed immediately, letting her breath out in one long sigh when the two men left the house.

  Benjamin dropped down onto a stool. His face was pale beneath the flush of his scarlet cheeks, and he slumped a bit to dab tentatively at his face. Blood trickled down his brow from a jagged laceration over his eye.

  “Here. Be still,” she muttered. She grabbed a cloth from the table and moistened it with whiskey, then wrung it out before she leaned over him. He winced when she blotted at the wound on his head.

  “Thank ye,” he muttered.