Fires of Winter Read Free Page B

somber as his blue eyes. Angus Carmarham’s eyes were generally sparkling and clear, unusually bright for a man of two score and ten. That day the blue eyes were clouded with the eyes of an old man.
    Brenna had just come in from a morning ride on Willow, her silver-gray mare, when she was given the summons. She was dressed in her boy’s finery, a dove-gray tunic and short mantle threaded with silver; fine, gartered trousers of soft deerskin; and boots of the best Spanish leather. Her sword swung from her hip, but she removed it before she sat down in the high-backed velvet seat across from her father.
    “You shall be wed to a Norse chieftain, daughter,” were Lord Angus’s first words.
    “And I shall breed twenty fine sons to come and raid our coasts,” Brenna answered.
    Angus did not laugh at her jest, and the very soberness of his expression turned her blood cold. She gripped the arms of her chair, waiting tensely for him to deny his statement.
    He sighed tiredly, as if all his years and more had just caught up with him. “Mayhaps they will raid our coast, but not us.”
    Brenna could not keep the apprehension from her voice. “What have you done, father?”
    “The arranger was sent on his way yesterday. He will travel to Norway and make a pact with the Vikings—”
    Brenna jumped to her feet. “The Vikings who struck Holyhead Island?”
    “Nay, not necessarily the same. The man will seek out a chieftain who will take you to wife. A man with power.”
    “You would barter me from door to door?” Brenna accused, looking down on her father with wide gray eyes, feeling for the first time in her life as if she did not know this man who sired her.
    “You will not be bartered, Brenna!” Lord Angus said with conviction, feeling by all that was holy that he had acted correctly, no matter how much it pained him. “The man will use discretion. I sent Fergus. He is a diplomatic man. He will make inquiries. He will find a man of power who does not already have a wife and make the offer to him. You will not be bartered. Fergus was told to ask only once. If he has no luck, he will return and that will be the end of it. But heaven help us if he returns without the name of your future husband.”
    Brenna saw red, blood red before her eyes. “How could you do this to me?”
    “’Tis the only way, Brenna.”
    “Nay, ’tis not!” she stormed. “We are miles from the coast. We have naught to fear!”
    “The Vikings grow bolder each year,” Angus tried to explain. “The first news of their daring came before I was born. The land across from us is lost to them. To the north our brothers serve them, on the east of Brittany where they have settled. And now they have finally reached our shores. ’Twill only be a matter of time before they raid inland—mayhaps next year. Would you see our village laid to waste at their feet? Our men killed, the women taken as slaves?”
    “’Twould not have been so!” she cried. “You are a knight skilled in warfare. You have trained me in the same arts. We can fight them, father—you and I!”
    “Ah, Brenna, my Brenna,” he sighed. “I am too old to fight. You could kill many, but not enough. The Norsemen are a race of giants. There are none like them. They are fierce and without mercy. I would see you live, not die. I would protect my people.”
    “By sacrificing me!” she hissed, beside herself with rage. “To an old chieftain, who by your own words will be ferocious and without mercy!”

    “I have no fear for you on that score. I know you can hold your own.”
    “I will not have to!” Brenna stormed. “I will not agree to the marriage!”
    Angus’s brow darkened threateningly. “You will! Fergus carries my word of honor with him.”
    “Why did you not tell me of this yesterday? You knew I would stop Fergus, didn’t you?”
    “Yea, I did indeed, daughter. But what is done cannot now be undone. And ’tis partly your own doing. You are available. Cordella is not,