Page 52 of Her Celtic Captor
She let out a mirthless chuckle. "I expect everyone heard. It was not quiet."
"Are you injured? A switching is not pleasant."
"I am not injured."
"I see. Taranc was here earlier. He tells me you are not after all to wed."
"No. He withdrew his offer."
"He explained to me that it was your wish that you not marry. You are content with this outcome?"
"It is best. He is right, we are not suited."
"Taranc is a fine man. I would have welcomed him as my son, had things played out differently."
"I know." Brynhild covered her face with her hands. "Heisa fine man. I trust him, I like him. I believe that I could come to love him. I... I wish I could wed him."
"Indeed?" Dughall raised an eyebrow. "I believe we might all be forgiven for having failed to grasp that. I daresay that you could have him as your husband, even now, but you must tell him if that is your wish. He will not force you."
"He does not want me, not really."
"I suspect he does, though he has his pride and will not ask you again. You have made your wishes in the matter clear enough."
"My wishes? What do you know of my wishes?" Her words came out more harshly than she had intended and she was instantly contrite. Brynhild had no wish to vent her bitterness on this kindly old man. She had harmed his family quite enough. She raised her head to look at Dughall, saw him through a veil of tears as she started to sob. "What does Taranc know? I do not even understand what my wishes are, except that I wish it could all be different."
Dughall remained silent as she wept. He offered no further comment or comfort save the occasional pat on her knee. He waved away the servant who entered to tend the fire.
At last Brynhild raised her tear-ravaged face again. "You must think me very foolish."
"I think you very troubled, and I would dearly like to understand why."
Her laugh was bitter now. "You do not. You would hate me if you knew and I could not bear that."
"I could never hate you. You are as my daughter. I have come to love you and I want to help. Taranc does, also, and he will if you let him."
She shook her head. "He will not. He will think me dirty, a slut, not worthy of him. No one can help. No one can change what has passed."
"Harsh words. What have you done to deserve them?"
"I cannot tell you."
“There is someone else? A man back in your homeland, perhaps?”
Brynhild shook her head. “No. Not any more.”
The old eyes gleamed with wisdom and a lifetime of experience. “But there was. Do you love him, this other man?”
“No!” She glared at Dughall, the very notion laughable. “I… I thought I did, but I was wrong.”
“Did he love you?”
Her laugh was without mirth. “No, he did not. He used me and would have hurt me. He… he tried to rape me.”
Dughall frowned, his face darkening. “What was the name of this man?”
“He was called Aelbeart.”
“A Celtic name?”
