Chapter Forty-Two #2
He began to laugh at his own foolishness in underestimating the woman. He would have been in for quite a surprise if he had tried to disarm her in the dark.
Kristen scowled at him, seeing his hand on his sword hilt. He grinned at her, putting both hands up in surrender. And then he watched as mother and daughter were reunited, Kristen running into Brenna’s outstretched arms. But it was Kristen who towered over her mother.
Royce shook his head, amazed. How could this woman be Kristen’s mother?
She was so small, so petite, her slender form molded snugly in a black velvet gown.
Long raven hair was braided down her back, and tender gray eyes moved over Kristen’s face as she held it cupped in her hands.
Her coloring was that of the brother’s, which could only make him assume Kristen took after her father.
And yet her face was so like Kristen’s. But, God’s breath, she did not look old enough to be a mother. The woman was beautiful.
“You did not explain how you found us here,” Kristen was saying.
“’Twas Perrin, making a wide circle of this area, who found this place today, and saw the men working in the yard. We withdrew to the forest, to await night.”
“Oh, Mother, you cannot know how glad I am to see you!” Kristen said, still hugging her tight. “I have been so miserable of late, knowing you would be waiting for our ship to come home, now that winter grows near, and knowing how upset you would be when it did not.”
“That is why you have been depressed?” Royce said incredulously.
Kristen glanced toward the bed, looking rather shamefaced. “Aye. I am sorry I did not tell you, Royce, but there was naught you could do about it.”
“I thought…Never mind,” he said testily. “Next time tell me and let me judge whether I can help or not.”
“There is no more time to waste with questions of your own, children,” Brenna said matter-of-factly. “You must answer mine, and quickly: Will you marry my daughter, Royce?”
“Mother!” Kristen cried. “You cannot ask him that!”
“I must,” Brenna insisted. “I must have something to appease your father with, although it may be too late to matter.”
“I will not have a forced marriage,” Kristen said stiffly. “And he has a betrothed. He cannot marry me.”
Brenna looked to Royce with raised brow. He smiled at her. “The betrothal she mentions has been broken.”
“What!” Kristen gasped. “When?”
“When I was gone those two days, I went to Raedwood to speak to Corliss’s father. He was not too disappointed that I did not want his daughter, when I offered Darrelle for his son, Wilburt, instead.”
“This was the surprise you said you had for me?”
“Nay, your own wedding was the surprise, though I was not sure you would agree. You were tricked into admitting you love me, and I have not heard you say it since.”
“You really meant to marry me?”
“Aye.”
“Oh, Royce!” She threw herself at him, knocking him back onto the bed.
“Then you do love my daughter?” Brenna interrupted their kiss.
“Mother!” Kristen rolled over. “God’s teeth! I have heard none of this before, and now I must hear it in front of you, and by coercion? Is that any way—”
“Be quiet, love. I have no time to cater to your sensibilities. ’Tis no fault of mine if he has not told you until now, but I will hear him say it.”
Royce said it. “I love her.”
“It means naught when you are forced to say it,” Kristen grumbled.
He caught her chin, bringing her eyes to his. “Do you really think I could be forced to say it, vixen? I love you.”
Behind them, Brenna chuckled. “Your father came just as late to admitting it, Kristen.”
Kristen was smiling quite bemusedly. She did not even hear her mother. But Royce could not ignore Brenna’s presence, no matter how much he wished her gone at the moment.
Soberly he said, “And now what?”
“Now I have my answers I will leave as I came, and hope I can talk some sense—”
“Brenna!”
Royce saw both women cringe at the sound of that booming voice outside the window. It raised the hairs on his own neck.
“God save us, I knew it was too much to hope he would not find me gone.”
“Brenna, answer!” Garrick bellowed again.
“Your father?” Royce ventured.
“Aye.”
“And he speaks the Celtic tongue, too?”
“I told you his mother was Christian. She was a Celt—”
Brenna cut in sharply. “You had best make haste below, Royce. Garrick has no doubt awakened your men. See they do not leave the hall armed, or they will be cut down.” She did not wait to see if he obeyed, but rushed to the window, calling down, “God’s teeth, Viking, you do not have to shout down the hall.
I am here, safe, and Kristen is with me.
Nay! Do not come inside, Garrick. I will come to you. ”
Kristen had moved to the window beside her mother the moment Royce left the chamber.
Torchlight illuminated the whole yard below, and what she saw were more than a hundred Vikings—helmeted, armed with sword and axe, and ready to storm the hall.
She could only pray Royce would not call his men to arm. They would not stand a chance.