jorn had never seen such a magnificent animal. The horse had spirit and fire and allowed no one close without tossing his great head or kicking with enough force to snap a strong man’s leg. Aye, this new animal found in the woods was a fine steed, better than any animal in Erbyn, the first horse that could outrun any of Darton’s soldiers’ mounts, the only horse capable of bringing Bjorn his freedom.
“Come, boy,” Bjorn coaxed, his voice low and soothing as the horse, tethered in the stable, shifted in the straw and rolled his eyes. “For you …” He held an apple in his fingers, but the stallion snorted and pawed the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get away from that beast!” The stable master’s voice echoed to the rafters, and the horse reared as far as the tether would allow. “Christ Jesus, Bjorn, I don’t know what goes through that stupid ’ead of yers!”
Every muscle in Bjorn’s body tightened. A shovel was propped against the wall, and it would take nothing to snatch it up and club old Roy over the head. The thought was pleasant, like forbidden wine.
“Get back to mucking out the stalls, and be quick about it,” Roy insisted, muttering under his breath about good-for-nothing peasants. “Lazy Viking or whatever the ’ell y’re.” He snorted and spit. “I’ve ’eard the stories about you, laddie. Think y’re somethin’ y’re not. What is it? The son of a princess from the North and some German soldier who raped her?” He snorted and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “That’s a good one, it is. Face it, son, y’re a bastard, boy; that’s what ye are and it’s all ye’ll ever be.”
Bjorn clamped his jaw shut. He picked up the shovel and again thought about bashing Roy’s skull. The old goat’s eyes would pop out of his head, but Bjorn resisted the urge and held on to the handle of the scoop until his knuckles showed white. At eighteen, Bjorn was taller than Roy, though not as heavy, and he was quick on his feet and stronger than anyone in the castle imagined.
Soon the time would be right. Bjorn glanced at the horse again, then threw his shoulders into his task and scooped out the dung. Some day old Roy would see the fire of his wrath. Viking! Ha. If the old man only knew.
“… and these are the stables. You are not allowed use of any of the horses without my approval.” The baron’s deep voice filtered through the open door. Bjorn glanced through the crack and looked into the bailey to see Lord Hagan, who was showing the grounds to the most beautiful woman Bjorn had ever seen.
She was small, a full head shorter than the baron, but she tilted her fine chin up defiantly and she glared at him with fierce blue eyes. Her tiny mouth was turned down at the corners. “You promised I would see my sister.”
“You will. First I thought you might like to see the keep.”
“Where I am to be kept prisoner?” she spat, tossing back her witch-wild hair.
“You are a guest.”
“Ha! At Prydd I am allowed my freedom. I go where I please and ride any horse I want and—”
“You’re not at Prydd any longer,” Hagan cut in, his jaw tense, his lips flattened against his teeth. Obviously this tiny woman vexed him, and that thought brought the hint of a smile to Bjorn’s lips. Though he didn’t despise Hagan, not the way he hated Darton, Bjorn still enjoyed seeing the baron bested, and this little woman was doing a fine job of it.
“As you said, I am your guest, and as such—”
“Do not push me, woman,” Hagan said in a voice that made all the peasants in the castle tremble. However, this woman didn’t appear to be afraid of him or any power he had over her. She tossed her thick mane of black hair over her shoulders and held him in her imperious gaze.
“What will you do to me that you have not already?” she demanded as she crossed her arms under her full bosom, lifting her breasts slightly in her ire. “Will you hold me prisoner? Kill my family?
Steal my virtue? What?” She inched her way closer to him, her blue eyes slitting. “I saw my horse being led into the stables this morning—”
Bjorn’s heart nearly stopped. He glanced at the stallion. This great horse was hers? This woman’s?
“—and I remind you that he belongs to Prydd. I’ll not have him mistreated or ridden without my knowledge.”
Bjorn sucked in a quiet breath. For the love of Jesus, did she not know to whom she was speaking? Had she not heard of Hagan of Erbyn’s savage temper? True, Hagan was not as cruel as his brother, but he was stubborn and used to being obeyed without question.
Hagan grabbed her roughly and seemed as if he wanted to shake some sense into her. “Here you are a guest …a very treacherous guest. You are not the savior of Prydd, nor are you the enemy, but I warn you, Sorcha, while you are here you will do as I say.” A muscle ticked violently near his eye as he took hold of her arm and forced her to turn and walk back toward the great hall.
Bjorn leaned on the handle of his shovel. That little mite of a woman was the savior of Prydd? She was the enemy who had tricked the guards and the cook? This slip of a woman had nearly killed the baron with her knife? Bjorn had already heard the gossip that was racing through the castle as fast as frightened horses.
“ ’Ey, you! Get to work!” Roy yelled as he poked his head through one of the windows. “By the gods, you’re a lazy one!”
Bjorn didn’t mind. He smiled to himself and scooped a shovelful of dung. From the corner of his eye, he watched through the crack in the door and saw the great baron shepherd Sorcha up the steps of the keep, treating her as if she were a wayward child.
So the grand animal was her horse, eh? Good. Finally it seemed as if his patience was to be rewarded. Not much longer would he have to suffer at the hands of Darton or Roy.
Bjorn whistled softly under his breath and started plotting his revenge.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Hagan demanded, his hand firmly on her elbow as he half shoved her up the stone steps to the keep. “Arguing with me in front of my men?”
“I’m only speaking my mind,” she replied. “I want to see my sister and—Oh!”
He turned abruptly, kicked open the door, and hauled her up the stairs. For a second she thought they were going to see Leah, but he shoved her into a room she recognized—his chamber. Her heart nearly stopped. The huge bed where she’d nearly lost her virtue mocked her, and she inwardly shivered.