Fires of Winter (37 page)

Cedric slowly began to remove his weapons. First his sword, then a crude ax with a chipped blade. How many skulls had split under that ax? How many men had fallen to this young braggart? Would her sin be great for killing him? Did she not have the right?

Cedric leaped at her all at once, taking her by surprise. Brenna screamed, not in fear, but in regret, for they fell many feet from her weapon and she could see no way of getting nearer to it.

“Now the victor claims the spoils,” he murmured before he ripped her shift to her belt.

Then he fought to untie the belt, and Brenna fought desperately to stop him, her fists hammering at him. One blow brought forth a curse as blood oozed from his split lip. He slapped her, rendering her nearly unconscious. In her dazed state, her belt seemed to open magically and the rest of her shift tore effortlessly in half.

Blinding pain cleared her muddled mind as both his hands came down to torture her bared breasts, squeezing them cruelly, delighting in her anguished screams. He continued mercilessly, it seemed endlessly, until finally Brenna could stand no more and fainted to escape the pain.

G
arrick stood in Brenna’s room, a candle on the mantel his only light. He stared venomously at the cold fire and the remains of the two gold arm rings, now black, but still retaining their original shape. This was how she repaid his generosity. This was what she thought of his caring.

Garrick no longer held his anger in check—he had not for days. Why should he pretend to others that he was unaffected? He was furious, so much so that if he could find Brenna today he would kill her. But there was little chance of finding her—she had made good her escape.

Never again would he come close to trusting a woman. Having given him her word, he actually believed she would honor it.

“Fool!”

He drained the tankard in his hand and walked out of the room. He would order everything within it burned. He wanted no memory of the lying bitch left behind.

Garrick entered the hall, where Maudya was just placing his meal on the table. “Where is Erin?” he barked at her.

Maudya jumped nervously and scampered out of his way. “He is coming.” Then she added, hoping to pacify him, “Erin is old, Master Garrick. It takes him longer these days to cross the yard than it used to.”

“I did not ask for excuses, mistress,” he growled in return, then he pounded his fist on the table. “Odin and mighty Thor, help me! Will I have obedience from no slave under my rule?”

His call to his gods frightened Maudya more than his rage, and she ran from the room as if those very heathen deities were about to devour her. She passed Erin on his way in. He was vexed at seeing her white face and terror-filled eyes.

“You have no need to take your anger out on the poor wench,” Erin said boldly to Garrick, taking more liberty than he knew he should. “She has done naught but serve you well.”

Garrick was angered further. “You overstep your place, old man. You would do well to remember who is master here!”

“I know well enough whom I serve with love—and patience when needed.”

Garrick was adequately chastised, but he hid this under a stern countenance and moved to the reason why he had called for Erin again. “Tell me once more what you recall of the day Brenna left.”

“Again? Garrick, we have been over this four times thus far. I have told you everything.”

At that moment Perrin strode into the hall, but his bone-weary expression relayed that he had no encouraging news. Garrick ignored him after a single glance and continued his interrogation.

“Just repeat your story, Erin.”

Erin sighed. “I did not know the lass had returned that day, nor that you had come and gone. I curse myself for my weakness, for falling ill on a day that has since caused you such misery.”

“Never mind what it has caused me, Erin!” Garrick said harshly. “Just repeat what happened.”

“I did not expect to be needed that day, so I went early to Rayna’s for her special potions. She put me to bed for most of the day, and God’s truth, her mixtures made me feel well again. I returned to the stable late, and that was when I heard the shepherd howling as if he were a hound from hell. The storm had not yet begun and the air was still, so ’twas not hard to hear the animal from the stable, even with my old ears. I found him alone in the house, but thought nothing of it till I realized the animal could not have started the fire or made the bread that was then burnt to a crisp. I knew the other women had not been to the house, so that was when I sent Coran to tell you what I found. Since both your mount and Brenna’s were not in the stable, ’twas only natural I assumed she was still with you at your father’s house. Before you came with Coran, the storm had begun, covering the tracks you hoped to find.”

Garrick gritted his teeth as he remembered cursing the heavens for the snowstorm that had thwarted any chance of finding Brenna quickly. He had not found her at all, and too many days had passed.

“And you said when you opened the door that night, Dog ran out and off to the front of the house?”

“’Tis as I said,” Erin replied.

Garrick slammed a fist into his palm. “I have searched every inch of land to the east, all the way to the base of the mountains, but there was no sign of her!”

“And the mountains?” Perrin finally spoke.

“Any fool would know they could not survive there in winter, yet I did cross the lower hills.”

“And Dog? He would have more luck than you,” Perrin said. “Did you not take him with you?”

“I could not find him when I left the first time. Erin says he returned the next day, wet and injured. He died hours later.”

“I am sorry, Garrick. I know you raised him from a pup.”

Garrick said nothing. He had yet to deal with that loss, or to think of anything save finding Brenna.

“I still insist she did not run away, Garrick,” Erin said stoically. “She is out there hurt, perchance—”

“Do not say she is dead, old man!” Garrick cut him off with such vehemence that Erin quickly regretted his words almost spoken.

Perrin tried to ease the tension that suddenly filled the air. “If Dog returned wet, the nearest lake is northwest of here. Have you been that way, Garrick?”

“Yea, and north. And my father is still looking west, to the coast.”

“I have also been north and east, along with many others.”

“You have my thanks, Perrin, for your efforts, but ’tis time to quit. Erin has told me naught different. There is no clue to the direction she fled, not one.”

“You have given up?”

“That woman is as cunning as any man. She swore once that when she escaped I would not find her. ’Twas only because she had Dog with her the first time that I brought her back.”

“But to just give up when, as Erin said, she might be injured, unable to return.”

“Then I would have found her. Nay, my father will not quit, but I am through being the fool. She is gone, and I do not want her name mentioned in my presence again.”

T
he icy water thrown on Brenna’s face brought her back to consciousness. She choked and coughed, feeling she must surely be drowning. Then her eyes flew open. She was aware of immediate danger, but she could not recall what was threatening her until a tall form loomed before her.

Cedric stood at her feet, completely devoid of any clothing. She saw then that she was also bared to his view, her torn shift thrown open. He feasted his eyes on her with a libidinous grin and she moaned inwardly. Was it over? Were her most private parts already violated by this grinning whoremaster? Nay—nay! She could not believe her mind would so desert her, leaving her helpless in the face of danger.

“So you came back,” Cedric said in a voice that held contempt. “You are like all my women, swooning when faced with a little pain. I had hoped you would be different, wench, that you could endure what I mete out.”

The horrid memory of blinding pain shot through her mind. She looked down at her breasts and saw that small bruises had already formed where his fingers had dug into her skin. She quickly pulled her shift together, but it would not stay.

“You are an animal!” she hissed, her blood racing with poisonous hate.

Cedric chuckled evilly at her outburst. “You do not appreciate my methods of finding pleasure? You will, Brenna,” he said confidently, his voice rising with excitement. “In time you will love what I do to you, and the many different ways I will take you. You will find pleasure in exquisite pain, and beg me to inflict more.”

Her stomach churned in revulsion. She would have to kill him, there was no doubt of that now. But how soon? What would she have to suffer before she found her chance?

He was an evil monster with a warped mind. She stared at him in morbid fascination, revolted, yet unable to take her eyes away. The scars that covered his arms and torso were nothing compared to a long, horrid gash on his hip. And next to that was his protruding manhood, throbbing with anger—a shaft so swollen she knew it would indeed inflict much pain. Had it already? Was it now standing tall to have her again? She had to know. If the damage was already done, she could never return to Garrick without unbearable shame, knowing that what they might have had would never come to pass.

She bit her lip, her misery intense. “Did you—” She could not bear to ask it, but she had to. She closed her eyes and rushed on. “Did you have me yet?”

He laughed at her question. “Do you doubt it?”

She cried out in anguish, but then she heard him laugh even harder. “Nay, wench. I will not have a woman unless she can feel every inch of my sword. She must know who has mastered her, and you will know now.”

Brenna sighed with a relief that she felt for only a second. She realized with dread that she was in the same position as before, no closer to her hidden dagger. This time he was not on her yet, though he was ready. When he bent down, Brenna quickly scrambled away from him, using her feet and elbows to push her backward. But he was still too close for her to try to rise and run. In the next moment, with the mighty yell of a victorous warrior, he leaped on her.

Brenna’s breath was lost when his body fell on her full force. She fought the black waves that clouded her mind once again. She felt terror-stricken, sure she could delay him no longer. Instead of trying to ward him off with her hands, she reached frantically behind her, praying she had moved close enough to her weapon.

At first she felt nothing but smooth dirt beneath the rug, and she panicked. Cedric was already trying to pry her legs apart with one knee and he quickly succeeded. At the same moment, Brenna’s fingers finally touched the cold blade of her dagger and she pulled it to her until she grasped the hilt.

Brenna would have cut his throat smoothly at that moment had he not become suspicious of why she was not resisting him. As it was, he saw her arm beneath the rug and the blade when she brought it out. He clasped her wrist and pinned her hand to the floor by her head, applying brutal pressure until she felt her own grasp weakening. She held on as if her very life depended on it, and as far as she could see, it did. She could not fail now, not when she was so close.

He raised himself up on his knees, and with his free hand, formed a fist and prepared to inflict a stunning blow. He was furious. In Brenna’s mind flashed the further tortures he would mete out if she failed.

In a last effort, before his fist came down and rendered her unconscious again, she tried to dislodge him by finally utilizing the rest of her body. She brought her legs up forcefully, and even though only one struck him, this propelled Cedric forward with a cry of pain.

Brenna was startled by the outcome, for she knew not how her one movement had crumbled her mighty opponent. But finish him it did, for he fell forward onto the upraised dagger and lay motionless. Her relief was so great that she could barely breathe with his chest covering her face.

It required a decided effort to finally pull herself out from beneath him. Still he did not move. If he was not dead now, he soon would be, and she felt no regret. Her sin could not be that great, for if any man deserved to die, this one did. She thought of the many women he had bragged about misusing and thanked God she had escaped without too much damage. They would not mourn his death any more than she would.