was precisely the wrong reaction. ‘My offer is serious.’
‘My days of fighting are at an end. My king has another use for me. For too long this part of the North Riding has harboured a nest of vipers. It is my task to ensure peace. With force if necessary, Lady. I’ll allow you safe passage to the nearest nunnery as a token of the loyalty you and your father showed my king.’
‘And you know everything there is to know about this hall and its farms? How to run it most efficiently?’
The blue in his eyes deepened. ‘From what I have seen, it will not be hard to run it better...unless there is some reason to think differently.’
Edith winced. He knew about her deception and was giving her the opportunity to confess. The Norseman was sharper than he first appeared.
‘My father trained me after my brothers died in infancy. I served first as his steward and then my late husband’s.’
‘Then they were both fools. This hall and its farms look miserable. A child could run them better.’ Brand Bjornson waved an impatient hand. ‘Save the stories for the children, Lady Edith. I’m in a generous mood, but that may change.’
‘Lady Edith speaks true, my lord!’ one of the servants burst out. ‘My Lady Edith runs this hall better than anyone. It is why the storage barns are overfull this year and our sheep are...’
At Edith’s look, the servant’s voice trailed away. Edith bit her lip. Now the Norsemen knew they were not poor. How much chance did the food have of getting to the people who needed it the most? These Norsemen warriors would more than eat their fill and leave everyone else to starve, just as Egbert had once attempted to do.
‘The hall is more prosperous than it looks? Show me. Now. While you have a chance to undo your deception.’ Brand Bjornson took a step closer to her. She became aware of the power in his shoulders and forearms. He was definitely not a man to be trifled with.
Edith shifted in her shoes, torn between a desire to protect what was rightfully hers and the knowledge that her unwomanly success might be the only thing to save her and her home. If she left now, she’d never be able to return. She’d seen enough refugees after the fall of Eoferwic ten years earlier to know her chances of survival. Who would give her shelter like she’d given shelter to Hilda? Anyone who might have helped her was dead or had lost their lands and had fled to the south. Edith curled her hand into a fist. She had no choice but to reveal some of her secrets.
She had to show him the ledgers and the storage areas and hope that he’d understand what a huge undertaking this hall and lands were. He had to understand that she was essential and why they needed the food to stay here.
Later, she’d figure out how to get rid of him. Vikings never stayed long. As long as she was here, there was a chance her lands would be restored to her.
Edith raised her chin so she stared directly into his startling blue eyes. An awareness of him and the power in his shoulders filled her. ‘Yes, it is true, Brand Bjornson. I had no wish to give more than I had to. Can you blame me after the ravages that the Norsemen have wrought on the countryside?’
‘Show me!’ Brand ground out, regarding Lady Edith with her very Anglo-Saxon wimple, figure-skimming dress and proud tilt to her nose. He struggled to remember when a woman had affected him this much.
Her figure was not overly curvy, but pleasing enough, her features were regular and even, but it was her long neck and the way she held her slender hands which held his attention. And she was tall, coming up to his nose rather than forcing him to stoop.
Everything about her screamed arrogance and inclined to overestimate her own intelligence in relation to his. She was about to learn an important lesson in humility. She’d assumed that he should be kissing her feet in gratitude earlier when she offered to marry him. No, they did this his way. He had made his plans.
‘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
