Fires of Winter (44 page)

Fortunately, her resentment did not last long and she bowed to the wisdom of her elders. She began to relax in the presence of her tiny son, to stop smothering him with this new love that she felt so strongly. Finally she was at ease when she cared for him, dressed him and bathed him. She let their relationship develop slowly. When he first smiled at her, she knew he was aware of her love.

Brenna also knew it was time they went home. The only reason she had stayed this long in Garrick’s house, nearly three months, was because she had not once seen Garrick in all that time. She did not know where he slept, or if he was even in the house. Nor could she bring herself to ask anyone about him, not even Janie or Maudya.

Her two old friends cooed over Selig every time they brought Brenna her meals, and they remarked many a time at how improved their lives were since he was born. Brenna did not question this either. She could only assume that Garrick was so loath to be near that he had gone to live elsewhere, no doubt at Morna’s, while she occupied his house.

When Brenna told her aunt that she was ready to go home, Linnet did not voice any objections. “You will live with me, will you not?” Brenna asked hopefully.

“For a while more. But eventually I will return to Anselm’s settlement.”

“But you are a freewoman now,” Brenna protested. “You need not go back there.”

“I have many friends there.”

Brenna sighed. “And you miss Heloise?”

“Yea.”

“And Garrick’s father?”

“I am not ashamed that I share his bed on occasion, Brenna,” Linnet said defensively.

“I do not judge you, Aunt. If this is what you want, then who am I to tell you nay?”

“I know that Anselm’s one true love is Heloise, but he does care for me. And I love Heloise also. She has been a true and worthy friend.” Linnet laughed. “A strange relationship we have. Still, I am content with it.”

“You should have better.”

“Nay, Brenna, I am happy,” Linnet said. “I know you hate Anselm, but—”

“I do not hate him anymore, Aunt.” Brenna interrupted.

“When Anselm first held my son in his arms, I remembered the day he attacked our manor, the hatred and blood-lust on his face. Yet when he held his grandson, there was such love in his expression. He has done much for me that I am grateful for. I still do not know if I can ever completely forgive what he did, but there is no longer hate in me.”

“I am pleased,” Linnet smiled. “I think you have finally grown up, Brenna.”

Brenna returned to her little house the day before the first winter storm. When she trudged through the snow in search of game, she actually felt as if she had grown accustomed to this land and its harsh climate.

And so the time passed. Still Garrick did not come to see his son. After the winter solstice celebration, which Linnet attended without Brenna even though she had been invited too, Linnet returned to Anselm’s settlement. Brenna missed her, but she did not lack for company. Leala, the woman Heloise had found for Selig, still lived with her, having taken Elaine’s place. And Cordella came often to visit with little Athol.

Brenna returned home early from hunting, for she had quickly exhausted her supply of arrows. She was angry at herself for having missed one rabbit so many times before it finally got away. When she left the woods and saw the horse in her yard, Garrick’s horse, she was first filled with mixed feelings, but then her anger grew. How dare he come now, seven months after the birth of his son?

She entered her house quickly, but stopped short at the sight that met her eyes. Selig was sitting on his father’s lap by the fire, giggling and playing with the fastenings on Garrick’s cloak. Garrick was surprised to see her, but Brenna did not notice. She saw only her son and how happy he was. Her anger came to the surface again, knowing that Selig had been denied the pleasure of his father because of Garrick’s hate for her.

“Do you approve of the name I gave him?” Garrick asked awkwardly.

“I accepted it, since it was all his father would ever give him.”

Garrick put Selig down on the floor and both parents watched him crawl slowly across the rushes to a toy beneath the table. There he stopped to examine it with tiny fingers, unaware of the tension in the room.

Their eyes met for the first time. “I am sorry you found me here, Brenna. It will not happen again.”

“Why did you come?”

“To see my son.”

“Why now, after so long?” she demanded.

“Do you truly think I have not seen him before this? I have come here at least once a week since you returned, whenever you are off hunting. And when you stayed at my house, I saw him every day.”

“How?”

“Once he was fed, he was mine to hold before he was returned to you.”

Brenna’s eyes were wide with fury. “Why was this kept from me?”

“You thought I would hurt the boy, so I saw him only in secret. I did not want to upset you.”

Brenna turned to Leala, who was huddled in the corner away from the shouting voices she did not understand. “Why did you not tell me Selig’s father has come to see him here?”

“He has the right, mistress. He should not have to hide his love for Selig.”

Brenna paled to a sickly white as soon as she asked the question. She did not hear the answer. She had trusted her long-kept secret to Leala because she lived with her and they had to communicate for Selig’s sake. And now, because of her anger, Garrick knew.

“I will go, Brenna.”

She looked back at him, startled. He was going to let her blunder pass, but she could not.

“You heard me speak your tongue. Why do you not accuse me of keeping this from you?”

Garrick shrugged. “You have been here long enough to learn it, Brenna.”

He was being too condoning and she could not stand it. “I was taught your language before I was brought here, Garrick. It was my one weapon against you that you could not take from me, even though I never made use of it.”

“I know.”

Her eyes widened. “You know?”

“Your aunt told me a long time ago. I sought to know more about you, and she told me much that was useful. You also spoke both tongues when you were sick with fever.”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“I wanted you to tell me,” he said levelly. “And so you have at last.”

“Only it does not matter now.”

“It matters.”

Brenna was shaken by the softness of his voice. He came forward until he stood directly before her. She met his eyes and there was no anger or hatred there, just the soft blue-green of shallow waters.

And then his arms pulled her to him and she felt her heart skip a beat. He kissed her, and great longing passed between them. All these many months she had tried not to think of him, for they had had more than a year of separation. Yet she wanted him so badly, and had tried to pretend otherwise.

He held her close, unable to do more because of Leala’s presence. Brenna wanted the moment to last forever, but there was a nagging devil in her mind that could not forget the past. What was happening was like a dream. It defied reality.

She gazed up at Garrick, her eyes a cloudy gray, seeking understanding. “What does this mean?”

“Spring is nearing, Brenna. My father has given his word that he will take you home.” He hesitated, fighting his pride.

“I do not want you to go.”

Brenna saw a glimmer of hope. “What then do you want?”

“I want you for my wife. I want to forget the past and start anew.”

His words were like music to her ears. To be his wife was what she had wanted so badly before, yet she had been willing to forsake that because he had been so against it. Why had he changed?

“Is it me you want, Garrick, or do you say this because you know when I leave I will take Selig with me?”

“I love my son. I cannot deny this.”

“And me?”

“I would not ask to wed you, Brenna, just to keep my son here. I want you more than any other woman.” He held her closer. “I have regretted a thousand times my rash decision to give you up. I have been miserable without you.”

“But do you love me?”

“After what I have said, how can you doubt it?”

At that moment, her joy knew no bounds. “Then you finally believe I told the truth, that I did not run away from you a second time?”

“I am willing to forget the past.”

Brenna stiffened and drew back from him. “Willing to forget? Then you still do not believe me?”

“You swore you killed Cedric Borgsen, yet he lives, Brenna.”

“’Tis not possible!”

“I have seen him.”

“But—but he fell on my dagger, the one you gave me! He did not move. How could he live after that?”

“Cease pretending, Brenna!” Garrick said sharply. “I have said I will let the past die.”

“But you do not believe me!” she cried.

“I know why you left, Brenna, why you broke your word. ’Twas unforgivable the way I forced myself on you that last time. I took my anger out on you and I was wrong to do this. So you ran away, then returned, unwilling to admit the truth. But it does not matter anymore. I love you enough to forget it all.”

“But not enough to trust me?”

He turned away, giving her his answer without speaking. Selig started crying and Leala rushed to him. Brenna stared dismally at her son, feeling once again that he would never know his father. Her hopes had been brought so high, and now fell so devastatingly.

She felt crushed when Garrick looked at her with yearning, despite all that was said. How could he do this to her? Did he think this bridge between them would not matter?

“Leave, Garrick.” Her voice was shallow, her pain evident.

“I cannot wed you when I know you will never trust me.”

“Mayhaps in time—”

“Nay, there will always be this between us. I wish it were not so, for I will always love you, Garrick.”

“At least stay here, Brenna.” He looked at Selig, then at her again. “Do not take him so far away from me.”

Brenna choked on her emotions. God, it hurt to see his pain! “You think me heartless and selfish, but I cannot live this close to you, Garrick. To be near you, loving you, yet knowing there is no hope for us, is too painful.”

“You have time before you sail to change your mind, Brenna. You need only come to me.”

He left and Brenna cried her heart out on Leala’s shoulder. It did not help. Only putting a great distance between them would do so.

S
pring came quickly and Brenna was told to prepare to leave in less than a fortnight. She heard this news with a heavy heart, yet she felt she had made the right decision. She could not stay near Garrick without having him, and she could not have him without his trust. If only it was not so important to her, that trust. But she knew with certainty that their love would not last without it.

She grieved most when she looked at her son, so unaware of the turmoil in their lives. She was denying him his father and his grandparents, being so utterly selfish. She considered leaving him here, but only for a brief moment. He was her life, and nothing on earth would ever separate them.

She could never forget the fear she had for him before he was born, even though she knew now how foolish she had been. And then she feared again when he was born so weak. Now he was strong and nothing could hurt him, save his mother’s decision to take him away. Thankfully, he would not remember, though she would.

She had prayed for a little girl with her own coloring who would not remind her of Garrick in any way. Selig had raven curls and sharp gray eyes, but more and more he was the image of his father. She could never forget Garrick when she cherished his son. Even if Selig had never been conceived, she would not forget Garrick.

Leala, to Brenna’s surprise, had agreed to sail with her. She had no family here, having lost her husband even before her newborn child. She claimed Selig was the only important one in her life, and she could not bear to part with him. Brenna’s relief was great. Even though her son no longer needed his wet nurse, Brenna had grown attached to this stout Norwegian woman.

On the morrow, Brenna would sail home. Leala had gone to bid her few friends farewell, and Brenna prepared to take Selig to see his father one last time. It would be the final time she would see him also, and her heart ached with this knowledge.

“Come, my sweet,” Brenna picked up Selig. “Your father does not know we are coming, but I am sure he will be pleased.” At the child’s inquisitive stare, she added, “Thank God you do not understand. For you, our journey across the sea will be an adventure. For me—”

She could not finish. Her pain was greater than it had ever been, but she still believed she had chosen the right course.

She started for the door, but it opened before she reached it. Garrick stood there, his face a mixture of sadness and yearning, yet there was also reluctance in his bearing. Brenna was sorry for that. She wished he would be forceful once more as he had been so often before. She wanted desperately to feel his arms around her one last time. But there was a wall between them. Brenna could not blame him for not believing her. After he told of seeing Cedric alive, she had begun to doubt herself.