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  way resembled the woman's, leading him to think they were kin despite the sharp contrast of their coloring.

  Struck speechless by the magnificence of the pair, Brendan swallowed hard in an attempt to overcome his dismay. With eflFort he adopted his usual fierce mask of disdain and straightened his shoulders proudly. He didn't care how attractive or rich these two were. They were still Danes, and that was reason enough to despise them. He prepared himself to hate them most thoroughly, as he had all the others who had claimed to own him.

  *'I am ready to go," he announced clearly.

  While he had been observing her with a rapt glance, Dana had been every bit as impressed by Brendan's appearance as he was by hers, but for completely different reasons. She knew the Celts had once been a proud race, and from the looks of this man she did not think those days were long past. She was also surprised to find him fair-haired and blue-eyed, as were most of her countrymen. While his hair was overlong, and his cheeks and chin darkened with several days' growth of beard, she thought that with more care to his appearance he might prove remarkably handsome.

  He stood just over six feet tall with a lean yet muscular build that his snug-fitting kirtle and breeches displayed in unseemly detail. It was no wonder Grena's women thought him attractive, she mused silently, for his own clothing left so little to her imagination he might just as well have been standing before her nude.

  When he raked his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to keep it off his forehead, she realized he probably did not own a comb and instantly forgave him for looking so unkempt. That her aunt could have allowed him to remain in the same wretched attire in which J0m must have bought him sparked her anger. Grena did not lack for anything, so it was inexcusable that she had not treated this man far more kindly than she obviously had.

  Pointing to his cloth-wrapped package, Dana inquired sympathetically, "Is that all you have to bring?"

  Brendan shrugged, not knowing how she expected him to reply. He considered himself fortunate to have an extra set

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  of clothing. Did this elegant creature expect him to have a wagonload of belongings?

  Seeing his confusion, Dana feared he did not speak her tongue nearly as well as his brief greeting had made it seem. "Whenever you do not understand me, you must say so," she explained with exaggerated care. "It will save us both many a problem."

  While Dana's advice was well-intended, Brendan reacted as though it had been a gross insult. "I am not stupid," he replied in a voice more suited to yelling across a noisy barnyard than to conversing with a fine lady. "You needn't treat me as though I were an ignorant fool."

  Grena had referred to him as surly, and Dana now understood why. How the man had twisted her question into grounds for a heated argument she didn't know, but she would not respond in kind. Rather than tell him she expected far better of him, she decided to wait until they had returned home, where she could also make his duties clear.

  Continuing as though he had not spoken rudely, Dana's voice was soft with an inviting, musical lilt. "Saddle a horse while I tell Grena we are here. Do not keep us waiting, for we are needed at home." Urging her mare past him, she dismissed the disheveled slave with a slight nod.

  Rather than run to follow her orders, Brendan was so intrigued he remained at the gate to watch Dana approach her aunt's home. She rode with a graceful ease he knew came from an innate skill rather than merely a desire to impress others, and that angered him all the more. He was disgusted with himself for not giving the good impression he had intended, but in his present wretched state he doubted it would have been possible with such a well-bmd young lady. Grena had not told him why he was being sent away, merely that he was leaving that morning. In the past his situation had always gone from bad to worse, but now he wondered if his luck had finally changed, for surely the serene red-haired beauty would have a fine farm and many slaves. He would probably have little work to do.

  When Brendan stood transfixed, studying Dana with an insolent gaze of which he did not approve, Erik quickly lost his temper. "Can you ride?" he asked caustically.

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  "Of course I can ride!" Brendan exclaimed proudly as he wheeled around to face the dark-haired stranger.

  "Do not make the mistake of believing Dana's sweetness covers a weakness of character or a lack of resolve. When she tells you to do something, do it immediately, not after you have daydreamed half the morning away. Now go get a horse and be quick about it," Erik commanded firmly.

  Brendan's eyes narrowed sUghdy, for he was sorely tempted to yank the arrogant man from his horse to demonstrate just how little he liked taking orders. Since that was a show of pride he knew from bitter experience he could ill afford, he turned away and sprinted toward the stables, but he mouthed a silent string of obscenities all the way.

  When Dana entered her home, Berit greeted her warmly, but as her cousin began to chat with her mother, the enterprising blonde slipped by them and hurried outside. In spite of her disappointment with their conversation the previous day, she was hoping that Erik had been the one to accompany her cousin. Seeing that he was, she waved excitedly. He returned the eager gesture by raising his hand in a lazy salute, and again disappointed her by remaining at the gate.

  As she often did, Berit had dressed in blue. She had chosen a pale shade for her chemise, with a deep azure tunic whose vibrant color made the clear blue of her eyes dance with a bright sparkle. Knowing her garments were especially becoming gave her the courage to approach their handsome visitor.

  "Good day," she called out as she hastened across the distance which separated them, hoping that by the time she reached Erik's side she would have thought of some pressing subject for them to discuss.

  Sorry that she had not reacted to the lack of enthusiasm in his greeting and returned to her house, Erik slid down oflF his horse, then took the precaution of giving the sleek black gelding a quarter turn so their conversation could not be observed by curious eyes. "Good day," he responded, and taking her hand, he lead her around behind his mount.

  Thrilled to find that he thought such discretion necessary, Berit hoped they might share a closeness which would merit

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  it. ''You see, you had nothing to fear. We've not set the dogs on you." That he stiU held her hand pleased her enormously, but when she gave his fingers an affectionate squeeze, he broke the clasp instantly.

  "That's only because your mother doesn't know that I'm here." Erik had meant to keep his mood as lighthearted as hers, but when he tried to think of another teasing conmient to make, his mind went completely blank. Berit was looking up at him with so adoring a gaze he was badly embarrassed. She looked as pretty and fresh as the summer morning, but he would not pay her compliments when he dared not encourage the affection that would be impossible for them to express.

  When Erik said nothing more, but continued to regard her with a perplexed stare, the silence between them swiftly grew to an uncomfortable length. Desperate to continue their conversation, Berit said the first thing that came into her mind. "Where's Brendan? Wasn't he waiting out here for you?" Alarmed that the slave might have run off, she turned to look across the meadow that bordered the path.

  Assuming her curiosity meant that she admired the man, Erik had difficulty speaking. "He's just a thrall, Berit, and not worthy of your notice," he instructed harshly, inflicting the same pain on her she had unknowingly caused him.

  Shocked by the undeserved rebuke, the lithe blonde began to back away. "I'll notice whomever I please," she informed him with a careless toss of her long braid.

  Despite being ill-groomed and poorly clothed, Erik had suspected Brendan would be a handsome man were his situation not so bleak. The slave possessed a fine physique, but Erik knew his own build was impressive too. He caught himself then, for he had no right to be jealous where Berit was concerned. Nor would he compare himself to a thrall
. "Go back to your house," he ordered gruflBy.

  Berit could not imagine what had come over the young man. She knew he had once considered her company most amusing.

  "Erik?" Berit whispered in a breathless sigh. When he stubbornly continued to ignore her, she turned her back on

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  him and hurried toward her house, but just as she reached the door Dana and her mother came through it.

  Dana had tarried only long enough to tell Grena her sister wasn't feeling well, and now she was anxious to be on her way. She didn't notice Bent's pained expression as she brushed her cheek with a farewell kiss.

  **I should have put chains on Brendan," Grena remarked absently. ''Do you want me to do it now?"

  "Chains?" That offer was one Dana found so repugnant she was actually sickened by it. "No, with Erik's help I'm sure I'll have no trouble with him." Before her aunt could question her judgment, she hurriedly mounted her mare and rejoined Erik, who seemed not to have moved in the time she had been gone.

  "What's keeping the man?" she asked, but before Erik could offer an opinion, Brendan rode out of the stable astride J0m's bay stallion, whom he had named for the god Odin's marvelous eight-legged horse, Sleipner.

  That was so audacious a choice, Erik could not help but laugh. "You told him to saddle a horse, but you didn't forbid him to take J0m's."

  "I didn't realize I should have to," Dana responded in amazement. She was used to giving orders to servants who were eager to do her bidding. Brendan had just made it obnoxiously plain that she could not expect such respectful obedience from him. She had not wanted to take the responsibility for him initially, and now she resented having to do so all the more. She glanced back toward her aunt, wondering for an instant if chains weren't exactly what Brendan needed to remind him of his place, but she couldn't bring herself to ask for them.

  "Careful," Erik warned under his breath. "This may not be the best place to reprimand him."

  Agreeing that she would be wise not to create any sort of a scene under Grena's watchful gaze, since she would never hear the end of it, Dana did not speak as Brendan reached them. Her expression assumed a bored nonchalance, but inside she was seething.

  Expecting to have his action questioned, Brendan had a ready excuse even though he was not asked for one. "The

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  Stallion needs the exercise, and I am the only one here who can handle him."

  Delaying the tongue-lashing the defiant slave deserved, Dana waved ^ood-bye to Berit and Grena and turned her mare toward the path home.

  Brendan followed at what he considered a respectful distance, but he longed to issue a challenge for a race. Equally eager to run, Sleipner tossed his head, sending his flowing ebony mane flying, but he kept the lively animal's speed in check. He knew that Grena called at her sister's farm often, so he knew she could lead Sleipner home on her next visit, but he hoped there might be an opportunity to race the fine animal before then.

  As their journey progressed, Brendan's thoughts soon strayed from the thrill of racing to the woman traveling ahead of him. Each time she turned to speak to her companion, shimmering waves of light radiated down the length of her curls, capturing his interest anew. Her profile was as splendid as a full view of her face, and his lurid imagination painted vivid pictures of the slender body her flowing garments concealed.

  He knew her breasts would be full and tipped with pert nipples of the palest pink. Her waist would be impossibly tiny, and the flesh of her flat stomach satin smooth. Her legs would surely be slim perfection, and he longed to feel her wrap them tightly around his hips. He was startled by thoughts that grew far too erotic to continue in broad daylight, and with a great force of will he focused his curiosity on the dark-haired man riding at Dana's side.

  He did not behave as though he were her husband, but that some enormously wealthy Dane undoubtedly did have that honor nagged at Brendan with a haunting sense of frustration he couldn't subdue. Dana was attractive, but many of her accursed kind were. He knew that the devil himself could assume pleasing forms when he chose. He would have to dismiss her beauty as only another of the endless torments he had been made to endure since he had been taken captive.

  While Grena's farm had obviously been prosperous, Brendan's first glimpse of Dana's home impressed him far

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  more. The main house, while one story, was long and wide, and he thought in addition to the kitchen and large hall all Danish homes contained, this one must have several other rooms as well. Clustered nearby were quarters for servants, a bathhouse, privies, and the storehouses whose keys Dana wore. Then came buildings housing a smith's forge, bams to store hay for the winter, a byre to shelter cattle, a stable, and pens for sheep.

  In front of the farm grew a home field which he was sure had been heavily fertilized to insure the production of the finest hay. It was walled with turf to keep out animals, but he could see the grass-filled meadows where their herds grazed just beyond. In the other direction were plowed fields to furnish crops of barley, oats, and wheat. Every building was in excellent repair, and what servants he saw were industriously attending to their chores. Dana might be. young, but his respect for her grew as he considered how well she obviously managed the running of her home.

  When they reached the stable, Dana dismounted quickly, then waited for Brendan to leave Sleipner's back. She then handed him her mare's reins. ''You'll see to the horses first. They need to be cooled down, then watered, groomed, and fed."

  As Erik stepped up to her side, she relaxed slightly, hoping Brendan would be smart enough to behave well, since she had a man with the strength necessary to enforce her orders clearly ready to back them up. As they had made theu- way home, she had asked her half brother to find tiie poorly clad slave some clothes that fit and a place to sleep, but she thought he might first have a more pressing need.

  *'Are you hungry?" she asked.

  "No more than usual," Brendan replied flippantly.

  Dana stared at him, and annoyed by the ambiguity of his response, she made no further attempt to hold her temper in check. "I do not want you here any more than you wish to be here," she informed him coldly. "Until J0m comes home you will follow my instructions and make yourself useful or I will lock you up until you beg me to allow you to work. When I ask you a question, I expect a straight answer. Since you've given me no idea whether or not

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  you're hungry, I will assume that you aren't and I won't bother to offer the food that I would have provided."

  As she spoke, Dana watched Brendan's gaze grow dark and threatening, but she was too disgusted by the hostility of his attitude to be in the least bit intimidated by him. *'If you're not clean-shaven in time for the evening meal, and haven't cut your hair and dressed in the clothes I've asked Erik to provide, then you won't eat at that time either.

  "I expect you to give Erik the same respect you are going to begin giving me this instant or he will be free to punish you in any manner he sees fit. If you have any questions, then ask them now, as I've no more time to waste on you today."

  Brendan knew Erik had warned him, and he was sorry now that he hadn't been wise enough to realize how hot-tempered Dana was. When he failed to respond, she took a step closer, as though daring him to speak. He was so shocked to find her eyes were not the blue he had expected but an exotic violet in hue, he could not even recall what he had been asked.

  Erik had seen the same look of rapt fascination on the faces of many men. Brendan was completely bewitched by his half sister's beauty. Since he had no desire to stand there for as long as it might take for the slave to gather his wits, he took charge of the situation. "I will take care of Brendan, and if he has any questions he can ask them of me.

  Dana nodded, grateful as always for her half brother's willing assistance. She thanked him. Then, eager to see if her mother was feeling better, she dismissed Brendan from her mind. She started toward the
house, but she had not taken more than two steps when she heard the slave mutter something in a most uncomplimentary tone and she wheeled around to face him.

  "Are you not man enough to curse me to my face?" she asked accusingly.

  His bitter insult had simply slipped out, and while it had been in his own tongue rather than hers, Brendan couldn't deny that she had understood its meaning. He had called her the foulest of names, which he definitely thought all Danes

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  deserved, and now he fully expected her to make him pay for it. When Erik tapped him on the shoulder, he turned without thinking and walked right into a punch to the jaw so fierce he was stunned, and staggered backward.

  Not about to let Sleipner and the other two horses get into the middle of the fray, Dana jerked their reins from Brendan's hands and pulled the animals out of Erik's way. While clearly he had caught the Celt by surprise, she didn't object to the way he was handling the man. In her view Brendan had asked for the beating he was taking when he dared to call her what had to have been a hateful insult. Clearly the slave was not only arrogant, but too stupid to keep his thoughts to himself as well.

  While those same two faults registered instantly in Brendan's mind as Erik struck him again, he refused to accept any abuse without fighting back. He blocked the next punch thrown at him, then drove his fist into Erik's solar plexus. In the next instant they were scuflQing in the dirt while Dana struggled to keep the three high-spirited horses under control.

  Drawn outside by the commotion, servants came running from all directions, and the blacksmith grabbed the reins from Dana and pulled the horses away. She was tempted to leave then herself, but knew she had to remain to see that Brendan was sufficiently punished. He and Erik were nearly the same size, but the hostile slave fought with a vicious zeal that shocked her and she feared he might soon gain the advantage. Not about to allow that to happen, she grabbed the back of his kirtle to pull him away from her half brother, but the worn fabric was so thin the garment ripped all the way down the back.