Legend of the Mist by Bale Veronica

Author:Bale, Veronica [Bale, Veronica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-10-22T23:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Garrett kept his promise, and just as the islanders were beginning to take their seats for the evening meal, he strode through the entrance to the hall. With his head high and shoulders back he took his seat, daring any Viking before him to challenge his rightful place among the leaders of Clan Gallach.

“I’ll no’ speak of yer disappearance, lad, but I trust it willna happen again,” Fearchar said in a hushed tone as Einarr took his place beside the chief. “I’ll no’ having ye offend them, no’ after we’ve worked so hard to maintain peace.”

Garrett clenched his jaw and shot Norah a frustrated look. But at the pleading expression on her lovely face, he nodded begrudgingly.

“I’m here, am I no’?” he challenged.

The meal progressed uneventfully. Garrett held a tight rein on his manners and kept his mouth shut, answering only direct questions from the Gallachs; the Norse at the head table did not acknowledge him, but Norah noticed a hint of a smirk on Einarr’s lips at the young fool’s stubborn pride.

The moment the trenchers and platters were cleared away, Garrett rose from his seat as if it were made of pins and marched back out the way he’d come. A few curious eyes followed him, but for the most part his petty act of defiance was ignored.

“Well, it was a start,” Iobhar noted with a begrudging grin.

Norah also considered leaving the hall after the meal had concluded. The itch to visit the broch had begun in her belly once more, and she longed to lose herself in its magic. But Einarr foiled her intention.

“Norah, come join us in a game of dice, ja?” he called from across the hall. A group of the Norse had collected at one of the trestle tables to watch their leader and a Gallach warrior play at gambling.

Obediently she approached, but politely refused. “Now sir, ye must ken I dinna play dice. What kind of a maid would engage in such a sinful pastime?”

Her tact earned her a twittering of appreciative laughter.

“I never play either,” Torsten put in, coming to stand beside her. “Einarr cheats.”

“Losing is losing,” Einarr insisted. “There are no cheaters in war, only those clever enough and bold enough to win at all costs.”

His proclamation was met with a round of gruff cheers by his men, while his opponent eyed the back of Einarr’s cards warily.

“Dinna ye worry, I’ll watch his cards and see that he plays fair,” Norah assured her clansman.

“I thought you did not play,” Einarr tossed over his shoulder.

She smiled slyly. “Aye, sir, I dinna. But that doesna mean I dinna ken how to play.”

A beam of pride shot through Torsten at his lady’s wit. Then he immediately chastised himself for thinking of her as his lady ... again.

As the game got underway more spectators gathered. Large, powerful shoulders from both sides jostled each other for space. Norah and Torsten had begun the game a respectful distance apart, but slowly found themselves being pushed closer and closer until their arms were pressed together.

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