Thorne. Name your price.”
Thorolf heard and joined into the discussion.“Sell her to Rolo, brother. Let him deal with her magic.”
“I do not believe in witchcraft,” Rolo scoffed. A lewd gleam darkened his eyes. “Besides,” he added crudely, “I could use a little magic in bed.”
His remark drew raucous laughter from those seated at the table, and more than a few coarse remarks.
“I am not yet ready to sell her,” Thorne said easily. “When I am, I will consider your offer.”
Still held captive in Thorne’s grip, Fiona had to force herself to look at Thorne. She hadn’t understood the exchange, but she could tell by the way everyone was looking at her that they were discussing her.
“What did he say?” Fiona demanded to know.
“I will tell you,” Bretta said, switching to Gaelic. “Rolo wants you, and Thorne promised to sell you to him.”
Fiona’s gaze swung to Thorne. Would he really sell her? Rolo was even more of a barbarian than Thorne. Her unspoken question remained unanswered as Thorne sent Bretta a fierce scowl and repeated his order for Fiona to take her meal and rest upon the bench. Fiona fled the moment he released her wrist.
“Why did you bring her here, Thorne?” Bretta asked. “There will be trouble, mark my words. By your own admission she is a witch. How long will it be before she works her dark magic on one of us?”
“Bretta speaks the truth, son,” Olaf agreed. “Whydo you insist upon keeping the witch? She can only bring trouble down upon us.”
“I will hear no more about Fiona!” Thorne roared, banging his fist on the table.”
“Very well,” Olaf said, sending his son a dark look. “Let us speak of your wedding. Name a date and I will send for an elder to perform the ceremony.”
The last thing Thorne wanted was to talk about his wedding. He could marry no one until he broke the spell Fiona had placed upon him. “I will think on it,” he hedged.
“Better make it soon,” Rolo urged. “I cannot stay here forever. My own homestead demands my attention.”
“The next meeting of the local
althing
takes place at the end of summer, before the first snowfall,” Olaf said. “All the elders will be present. ’Twould be a good time to wed.”
“I said I will think on it,” Thorne repeated, bringing an end to the conversation.
“Can you understand their language?” Fiona asked Brann as she listened intently to what was being said. She could tell by Bretta’s reaction to Thorne’s words that the Viking woman was not pleased by the way the conversation had gone.
“Aye,” Brann said. “I can make out some of their words. They argue about you.”
Fiona flushed and bent her head over her plate. “ ’Tis as I thought. Will Thorne sell me?”
“ ’Tis not clear,” Brann said, refusing to look at her. “There will be difficulties ahead, Fiona. Youmust prepare yourself for them. Thorne does not want to sell you, but sometimes a man is forced to do something he has no heart for because there is no other option open to him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I. I but read the runes and consult with the stars. They have never failed me. Even when I do not understand them myself, what they tell me always comes to pass. The prophesy I gave you many years ago has not changed. The Viking is your future. I know not how or why, just that it is so.”
“I hate him!” Fiona said fiercely. “He tried to … He wanted to…” She hung her head, unable to continue.
“But he didn’t,” Brann reminded her.
Her face was ravaged by shame. Did Brann suspect the things that had transpired in the bathhouse? “Nay, but I wanted him to. What he did to me … I cannot explain, but it was wondrous, indeed. I wish I had a mother to advise me. Or a confessor. Aye, a confessor,” she repeated, “to shrive me of my sins.”
“Fiona, Fiona,” Brann crooned, patting her shoulder with a gnarled hand. “Do not despair. I cannot tell you what lies between,
Thorolf heard and joined into the discussion.“Sell her to Rolo, brother. Let him deal with her magic.”
“I do not believe in witchcraft,” Rolo scoffed. A lewd gleam darkened his eyes. “Besides,” he added crudely, “I could use a little magic in bed.”
His remark drew raucous laughter from those seated at the table, and more than a few coarse remarks.
“I am not yet ready to sell her,” Thorne said easily. “When I am, I will consider your offer.”
Still held captive in Thorne’s grip, Fiona had to force herself to look at Thorne. She hadn’t understood the exchange, but she could tell by the way everyone was looking at her that they were discussing her.
“What did he say?” Fiona demanded to know.
“I will tell you,” Bretta said, switching to Gaelic. “Rolo wants you, and Thorne promised to sell you to him.”
Fiona’s gaze swung to Thorne. Would he really sell her? Rolo was even more of a barbarian than Thorne. Her unspoken question remained unanswered as Thorne sent Bretta a fierce scowl and repeated his order for Fiona to take her meal and rest upon the bench. Fiona fled the moment he released her wrist.
“Why did you bring her here, Thorne?” Bretta asked. “There will be trouble, mark my words. By your own admission she is a witch. How long will it be before she works her dark magic on one of us?”
“Bretta speaks the truth, son,” Olaf agreed. “Whydo you insist upon keeping the witch? She can only bring trouble down upon us.”
“I will hear no more about Fiona!” Thorne roared, banging his fist on the table.”
“Very well,” Olaf said, sending his son a dark look. “Let us speak of your wedding. Name a date and I will send for an elder to perform the ceremony.”
The last thing Thorne wanted was to talk about his wedding. He could marry no one until he broke the spell Fiona had placed upon him. “I will think on it,” he hedged.
“Better make it soon,” Rolo urged. “I cannot stay here forever. My own homestead demands my attention.”
“The next meeting of the local
althing
takes place at the end of summer, before the first snowfall,” Olaf said. “All the elders will be present. ’Twould be a good time to wed.”
“I said I will think on it,” Thorne repeated, bringing an end to the conversation.
“Can you understand their language?” Fiona asked Brann as she listened intently to what was being said. She could tell by Bretta’s reaction to Thorne’s words that the Viking woman was not pleased by the way the conversation had gone.
“Aye,” Brann said. “I can make out some of their words. They argue about you.”
Fiona flushed and bent her head over her plate. “ ’Tis as I thought. Will Thorne sell me?”
“ ’Tis not clear,” Brann said, refusing to look at her. “There will be difficulties ahead, Fiona. Youmust prepare yourself for them. Thorne does not want to sell you, but sometimes a man is forced to do something he has no heart for because there is no other option open to him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I. I but read the runes and consult with the stars. They have never failed me. Even when I do not understand them myself, what they tell me always comes to pass. The prophesy I gave you many years ago has not changed. The Viking is your future. I know not how or why, just that it is so.”
“I hate him!” Fiona said fiercely. “He tried to … He wanted to…” She hung her head, unable to continue.
“But he didn’t,” Brann reminded her.
Her face was ravaged by shame. Did Brann suspect the things that had transpired in the bathhouse? “Nay, but I wanted him to. What he did to me … I cannot explain, but it was wondrous, indeed. I wish I had a mother to advise me. Or a confessor. Aye, a confessor,” she repeated, “to shrive me of my sins.”
“Fiona, Fiona,” Brann crooned, patting her shoulder with a gnarled hand. “Do not despair. I cannot tell you what lies between,
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