Chapter Four
Brynja
Brynja nodded to Hildi, letting her know it was time to return to the nunnery. She didn’t wish to stay wherever the arrogant fair-haired Grant was, whatever his name was. Jowell? Paden? Hagen? She didn’t know which one, and that alone annoyed her.
Because she prided herself on having a strong memory—every name, every face, every weapon.
But every time she saw him, something happened to her insides. It was something she didn’t understand, couldn’t explain, couldn’t ask anyone about because it was unclear.
But the Grant warrior unsettled her and pissed her off at the same time. He tried to command them to attend a festival, as if there were anything to celebrate in her life or Hildi’s, but at least he apologized for his boorishness.
He had to be the one named Hagen because he’d told her when they first met near the nunnery that his mother was a Norsewoman. Hagen was a Norse name, not Paden or Jowell, so he had to be the Norseman.
“Brynja!”
She cursed inwardly, then stopped and turned around to look at him. “What do you want?”
“Tell me more about this man. What makes you think he’s following you? And how close does he get to you?”
Hagen’s golden hair fell well past his shoulders, not straight or curly but something in between. His blue eyes had a way of reaching inside her belly and twisting. But oddly, not in a painful way. “I know who he is because I can feel him. His anger, his hatred of me for wounding him.”
“And who is he with?” Hagen’s legs went to a stance that she used to see in the arseholes who killed her mother—wide, yet strong. Powerful legs if she were to bet. Then his hands settled on his hips, the image of the man something she wouldn’t forget quickly.
“That I don’t know.”
He took two steps forward. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help, Grant. I can take care of myself.” She gripped her spear tightly, her gaze locked on his to prove that she was indeed powerful. She would never allow a man like this to intimidate her.
She’d show them all one day.
“Can you? Is that why you’re at the nunnery?”
Jowell whistled from behind him, moving closer to Hildi, who’d stepped away from her friend.
Paden laughed and ran in the opposite direction. “You better get yourself far away from that spear, cousin. I’m going back to speak with Simone and Artan.”
She tossed her spear into the air, then caught it again, just to keep herself from slapping him, her jaw clenching.
He had no idea why she was at the nunnery or what her past was like.
He’d grown up in a castle, moved to another castle, rode the best of horses probably.
What did he know of the way women were treated?
To him, lasses were dressed in pretty gowns and carried a fan to keep themselves calm, if she were to guess.
The women in his clan probably sat by the hearth and did needlework all day, never stepping outside the keep.
She preferred to be outside. “I’m not your concern. Leave me be.”
“I just made you my concern.”
“You’re so overbearing. Have you no one to teach you manners?”
He hid a small smirk. “I know how to treat a lass.”
“Do you? I don’t see it.” She had the sudden realization that he was too close, so close that she could feel his heat. He was warm, too warm.
“I wish to help you. That’s all. Naught more, naught less.”
“And I’m telling you to let it go. Go back to Duart Castle and play your games there.
” Her eyes narrowed, something she’d learned to do to keep her tears at bay.
“Go row your big boat back, ride your fancy stallion to your giant castle, and leave me to do what I must do. I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to. ”
He took another two steps forward. If he reached out, he would be able to cup her cheek.
He wouldn’t dare.
“I’m not playing games, Bryn.”
“The name is Brynja.”
“Brynja, I am offering my assistance. We’ll take this boat and see if we can find the two men who were circling the isle.”
“They’re gone. You’re too late. They circle early in the morn and just after dusk.”
“Then I’ll return.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll take care of him. Next time, I’ll put my dagger in his heart.
” She didn’t tell him that she knew her small dagger wouldn’t stop the evil fool, only slow him.
She’d have to be closer to get her spear where she wanted, and she wasn’t practiced at shooting at moving targets.
She couldn’t lift a sword well enough to do any damage, which was why she was training with Simone to learn to be an archer. That was going to take time.
Hildi nodded and took two steps forward. “She can do it.”
“I’m sure she can. But what about his friend? Or what if he brings two friends? Is Hildi trained to help you?” He leaned forward.
Closer, but she refused to back up.
“I’ll kill them both.” The lass stood like a rock, not reacting to anything he said. “Hildi doesn’t need to train. I can handle them.”
“You have no help at the nunnery. Sure, Simone and Artan would help you if you were here, but you’re at the nunnery.
I’m here to tell you that bastard is going to wait and attack you at the nunnery, and if he came from this side of the isle before, he’ll attack from the back next.
Why don’t you come to Duart Castle until we find out who this fool is?
My mother would love to meet two Norsewomen.
You would always be welcome at Clan Grantham. ”
Hildi giggled, “I’m not a woman. I’m only six and ten. She’s eight and ten. And we’re not allowed to leave. Ever.”
Hagen smiled. “I’ll speak with the abbess, let her know that you might be in danger. I think she’d approve of a trip. Spend a sennight with us. You’ll find out that life can be better.”
“Better?”
“Better than a nunnery. You don’t belong in a nunnery.”
“And where do I belong?”
Her gaze locked on his, the pain and anger so clear that he had to know more about what her past was. “You belong with me.”
“That’s exactly what I expected a spoiled, arrogant fool to say. I don’t belong to anyone but myself.” She spun around and hurried back to her chamber at the nunnery. She didn’t need to spend any more time with this overconfident man.
“Wait, please.” Hagen followed her and touched her shoulder, making sure not to grab her.
“Ow!” A spark shot out from his hand when he touched her skin. “What the hell was that?” she asked, whirling back to face him. “What did you do?”
“Naught.” He rubbed his fingers together, trying to make sense of what he’d experienced. “I just touched you. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Liar.” She stalked away but waited until she was far enough away before she wiped the sweat from between her breasts. There had been something when he’d touched her, a spark, a glint of fire, of something strong.
Something that had never happened before, and she didn’t like it.