apurpose.
He ran his hands over her long locks, digging out a wayward hairpin and tossing it into the rushes.
Brenna blinked, running a finger across the locks on her manacles. Could she unlatch them with a hairpin?
Beside her, Montgomery cleared his throat.
The couple turned.
Keeping her gaze on the spot where the hairpin had landed, Brenna tried to memorize the exact position.
“Come, wife. You will meet my brother Godric and his lovely wife Meiriona, the lord and lady of Whitestone.” He jostled her forward and the location of the hairpin was lost, eaten up by the multitude of rushes.
Devil take it.
Irritated with the loss of the ill-formed plan, Brenna scowled at the new intruders.
So this was the legendary lord and lady of Whitestone. She had heard of the great love and passion between them, but ’twas unseemly for them to act thus in the great hall.
Brenna looked from her new husband to his fearsome sibling. Of a truth, it must have been this man who her sister had seen at the tournament. He and Montgomery had a similar look, but scars laced this man’s face and his hair was shaggy instead of set in close-cropped precision. In contrast to her husband’s unadorned black tunic, he wore a blue paltock with delicate embroidery that looked to have been stitched with painstaking care.
Clothing of a man well-loved by a woman.
Montgomery caught Brenna’s hand and drew her forward. “I will introduce you.”
The giant tucked his wife’s hand into his own as they approached. The lady had the grace to look slightly abashed. She pushed a strand of wayward hair behind her ear then held her hands out to Brenna.
Awkwardly, Brenna took them. The woman’s long auburn hair swayed gently against her calves. Her green gown was of high quality with an empire waist, and she wore sparkling emeralds around her neck.
The clothing of a woman well-indulged by her lord.
Naught like her own marriage at all. As discreetly as possible, Brenna shuffled her toes around in the rushes, hoping to come across the hairpin.
“Congratulations on your marriage and the union of our families,” the woman said, as if no hostilities had occurred. Mayhap she was daft.
“Th–thank you,” Brenna stammered.
“I am Meiriona of Whitestone and this barbarian is my husband Godric.”
Leaning forward, Brenna tried to determine if the woman’s mass of long hair contained any more pins. Surely such an object could pick the locks.
“Ho, brother!” The scarred warrior drew Montgomery into a bearlike hug with cuffs and claps that would have left a smaller man bruised. The giant eyed Brenna and nodded. “I like her. She suits you.” When he moved his head, she suddenly recalled where she’d seen him: he’d been the one to stand up to The Enforcer during yesterday’s hurly burly. “And lovely wedding jewelry,” he continued, eyeing the chains.
Brenna flushed, indignant anger rising inside her. She wished she could crawl beneath a trestle table to hide from the prying eyes of others.
Apparently heedless of her discomfiture, the warrior winked at his wife. “Might need to get a set for you, love.”
Brenna felt her face grow hotter. She was some big joke for them all. She wiggled her toes more furiously in the rushes, determined to find the hidden hairpin and set herself free.
The lady shook her head at her husband and pulled Brenna across the hall, her pregnant stomach wobbling this way and that as she went. “All bark, no bite,” she murmured to Brenna. “Treat him well and you can have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“Freedom?” Brenna asked bitterly.
“Of course. ’Tis only his pride you must soothe to gain such.”
His pride. Bah. And what of her own?
At that moment a loud screech sounded across the hall.
Gwyneth barreled toward her wearing a blue woolen dress with long embroidered sleeves. “He put you in chains! Oh, blessed Lady of Mercy.” She stopped before Brenna and threw her arms around her. “Brenna,
He ran his hands over her long locks, digging out a wayward hairpin and tossing it into the rushes.
Brenna blinked, running a finger across the locks on her manacles. Could she unlatch them with a hairpin?
Beside her, Montgomery cleared his throat.
The couple turned.
Keeping her gaze on the spot where the hairpin had landed, Brenna tried to memorize the exact position.
“Come, wife. You will meet my brother Godric and his lovely wife Meiriona, the lord and lady of Whitestone.” He jostled her forward and the location of the hairpin was lost, eaten up by the multitude of rushes.
Devil take it.
Irritated with the loss of the ill-formed plan, Brenna scowled at the new intruders.
So this was the legendary lord and lady of Whitestone. She had heard of the great love and passion between them, but ’twas unseemly for them to act thus in the great hall.
Brenna looked from her new husband to his fearsome sibling. Of a truth, it must have been this man who her sister had seen at the tournament. He and Montgomery had a similar look, but scars laced this man’s face and his hair was shaggy instead of set in close-cropped precision. In contrast to her husband’s unadorned black tunic, he wore a blue paltock with delicate embroidery that looked to have been stitched with painstaking care.
Clothing of a man well-loved by a woman.
Montgomery caught Brenna’s hand and drew her forward. “I will introduce you.”
The giant tucked his wife’s hand into his own as they approached. The lady had the grace to look slightly abashed. She pushed a strand of wayward hair behind her ear then held her hands out to Brenna.
Awkwardly, Brenna took them. The woman’s long auburn hair swayed gently against her calves. Her green gown was of high quality with an empire waist, and she wore sparkling emeralds around her neck.
The clothing of a woman well-indulged by her lord.
Naught like her own marriage at all. As discreetly as possible, Brenna shuffled her toes around in the rushes, hoping to come across the hairpin.
“Congratulations on your marriage and the union of our families,” the woman said, as if no hostilities had occurred. Mayhap she was daft.
“Th–thank you,” Brenna stammered.
“I am Meiriona of Whitestone and this barbarian is my husband Godric.”
Leaning forward, Brenna tried to determine if the woman’s mass of long hair contained any more pins. Surely such an object could pick the locks.
“Ho, brother!” The scarred warrior drew Montgomery into a bearlike hug with cuffs and claps that would have left a smaller man bruised. The giant eyed Brenna and nodded. “I like her. She suits you.” When he moved his head, she suddenly recalled where she’d seen him: he’d been the one to stand up to The Enforcer during yesterday’s hurly burly. “And lovely wedding jewelry,” he continued, eyeing the chains.
Brenna flushed, indignant anger rising inside her. She wished she could crawl beneath a trestle table to hide from the prying eyes of others.
Apparently heedless of her discomfiture, the warrior winked at his wife. “Might need to get a set for you, love.”
Brenna felt her face grow hotter. She was some big joke for them all. She wiggled her toes more furiously in the rushes, determined to find the hidden hairpin and set herself free.
The lady shook her head at her husband and pulled Brenna across the hall, her pregnant stomach wobbling this way and that as she went. “All bark, no bite,” she murmured to Brenna. “Treat him well and you can have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“Freedom?” Brenna asked bitterly.
“Of course. ’Tis only his pride you must soothe to gain such.”
His pride. Bah. And what of her own?
At that moment a loud screech sounded across the hall.
Gwyneth barreled toward her wearing a blue woolen dress with long embroidered sleeves. “He put you in chains! Oh, blessed Lady of Mercy.” She stopped before Brenna and threw her arms around her. “Brenna,
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