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‘I am happy to show you the stores, but you must know they are depleted after the winter. You may inspect the ledgers and they will show you that they are in my hand.’ Her full lips turned up even more insolently. ‘Can you read Latin? Or do you wish to call your scribe?’
‘That is my concern.’ Brand retained a narrow leash on his temper. ‘I very much wish to inspect the entirety of my new lands.’
He did not believe for one heartbeat that she could read or write. What sort of woman did? She merely wanted to show him up and gain time to remove whatever treasure she had hidden, treasure which now belonged to him. Egbert of Breckon had cut down Brand’s best friend, Sven, while crying for peace. Hrearek had reached him first and cut him down but Sven had been the closest thing he had had to a brother. He could never forgive the treachery that had cost him the one person he held dear.
‘I’ve nothing to fear from the truth.’
He leant forwards so that their breath touched. ‘We start with the ledgers.’
Her colour heightened, infusing her cheeks with a dusky pink. If she shed the wimple, she’d be beautiful, Brand realised with a start as his body responded anew to her nearness.
Was there a reason she had deliberately wanted him to overlook her feminine charms? He wanted a willing bed partner, rather than one he’d forced. But then seeing how her breath quickened, she was not entirely immune to him either. Suddenly the possibilities became much more intriguing.
He raised an eyebrow and the flush deepened. She dipped her head, breaking the contact.
‘Very well, the ledgers.’ She motioned to one of the servants and spoke to him in a low voice. The man bowed and hurried off. ‘It may take a little time, Lord Bjornson.’
‘I’ve time.’
‘Would you like to sit? I’m sure you and your men are thirsty. My late husband was always thirsty whenever he returned to the hall.’ She gestured towards a stool with a little wave of her hand before ordering one of her elderly servants to fetch some mead. ‘Please give us a chance to welcome your lordship properly. Now that we know who you are.’
The gesture and the words reminded him of his father’s wife and the way she ruled his father’s steading, always making him feel like an outsider with no real right to be there. He’d left that past long ago. He was the lord and master here, rather than the son of a thrall who had no right to be in the hall. He’d earned the right to respect with his sword arm. Brand gave his head a little shake to rid his mind of the memory.
‘I have no problems with standing, but my men require some refreshment. The road brings a thirst and hunger. We must have meat.’
‘A good leader looks after his men first.’ Her smile did not reach her grey eyes. ‘Meat takes time. We live simply here and it is Lent. Nothing has been slaughtered since Michaelmas.’
‘Time we have.’ Brand inclined his head. ‘In due course after I have assessed the supplies, I will arrange for several animals to be slaughtered. My men need to celebrate my good fortune. They expect to feast well.’
‘The considerations of Lent mean nothing?’
Brand considered the question. ‘Should they? My men do not share your religion.’
‘As you wish.’ She strode over to where a leather stool rested and sat. A queen or his father’s wife could not have done it better. ‘There appears to be little point standing on ceremony. My late husband used to enjoy sitting.’
‘I’m not your late husband.’
Her neat white teeth worried her bottom lip and for the first time, he saw the shadows in her eyes. ‘No, you’re not. We must all consider you fortunate then.’
‘Meaning?’ Brand tried to remember what he knew of the man. Lord Egbert had obviously inspired men to follow him. The men left in the hall were the ones who were either too old or too young to fight. But he knew little of the measure of the man or how he’d dealt with his wife. He had been the one to break the truce. Hrearek was quite clear on that.
‘My husband died and you are alive. The hall now is under your rule.’ Her hands clenched together so tightly that the white knuckles stood out. ‘What did you think I meant?’
‘Thank you for the explanation.’ He’d allow the explanation to stand for now. But it was clear Lady Edith was no grieving widow. Were her earlier words about not supporting the rebellion true? Lately Halfdan had used marriage between the Vikings and the Northumbrians as a way of ensuring peace, but he’d kept her existence from him.
