Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Ye!” Ivar exclaimed at the same moment, his jaw dropping, unable to believe his eyes. It was her, large as life, no doubt about it—the same lass who had laid him out in the wood with a kick to the head!

A confused silence settled over the room as he and his nemesis stared at each other wordlessly.

Ivar felt rage rushing through his veins. He shut his mouth and glared at the woman. His hand went tentatively to the lump on his head, the damage she had done. “What is she doin’ here?!” he burst out.

Dahlia was the first to speak. “But… what d’ye mean, Ivar? This is Catalina, yer bride Anastasia’s sister. Have ye met already?” she asked, frowning as she looked from one to the other with bewilderment along with everyone else, including his bride-to-be.

The lass who had attacked him gasped at Dahlia’s words. “He’s nae…” she muttered, a crimson blush spreading over her cheeks.

“This is our Braither, Anastasia’s betrothed, Ivar,” Haldor said haltingly.

“Ye cannae be serious,” the girl murmured disbelievingly.

“Ye’re jestin’,” Ivar exclaimed, shaking his head. He removed his eyes from the lass long enough to glare at his younger brother. “Is this yer idea of a joke, Arne?” he asked accusingly.

But Arne just shrugged, and it was clear from his puzzled expression that he had no part in whatever was going on. Ivar scanned his family’s faces—everyone seemed genuinely as shocked as he was. Including the beautiful lass standing next to the wee harridan.

“I dinnae understand,” said the beautiful lass with the gentle eyes and long blonde hair, her smooth brow wrinkling. “What is going on? D’ye ken Ivar already, Cat?”

“Ach, aye, I ken him all right,” the harridan replied, giving him a hard stare with those flashing green eyes of hers. She tossed her long brown hair and put her hands on her hips. “He’s the one I was telling ye about. The one who was goin’ tae kill the wee fawn.”

“Oh!” His betrothed gasped and stared at him wide-eyed with a mixture of shock and confusion.

“What?” Arne burst out, looking at Ivar in obvious amazement. “D’ye mean tae say that this is the lassie who lamped ye in the woods last night?”

Before he could frame an answer that would not make him look even more of a fool, the girl shot back, “Aye, that was me all right.” And she looked proud of it too, which riled him even more.

A collective gasp ran around his family, and all of them were staring.

“Are ye absolutely sure it was him?” his future wife asked.

“I’ll never forget that face,” the wench declared, bold as brass.

Why, the nerve of her!

He bristled, feeling insult added to injury when Arne and Haldor began to laugh.

“Ye dinnae ken what ye’re talkin about,” he yelled at the harridan. “Ye’re tryin’ tae make me look like a monster in front of the woman tae be me wife!”

“If the cap fits, wear it! I saw ye with me own two eyes, ye were tryin’ tae catch the little mite so ye could have it for yer dinner, nae doubt, so dinnae try tae deny it,” the little witch hissed back, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“Ach ye’re as mad as a box of bees! I’m tellin’ ye—” he tried to argue but was cut off immediately.

“There ye were, crouchin’ down, thinkin’ ye thought ye had the poor injured creature cornered so ye could finish it off!”

“I wasnae, I was?—”

“Ye’d already half killed the wee thing as it was, breakin’ its leg like that, ye brute. I cannae stand a man who’s cruel tae innocent creatures.”

“I wasnae! I tried tae explain what I was doin’, but ye didnae give me a chance, ye just kicked me in the head with nae warnin’ and laid me out. I could have died there because of ye!”

“If ye had then ye would have deserved it, ye murderer,” his accuser snapped back.

The heads of his family and his bride-to-be were moving from left to right in unison, watching the pair of them argue, as though they were two ancient foes engaged in some display of single combat designed to entertain the crowd at a fair.

“Ye should see the bird’s egg lump on his head, lassie,” Arne chortled, tears running down his face. “Nae wonder he complained of a headache this mornin’. Ye got him a good one there all right, Catalina!”

Infuriatingly, instead of sympathy for his plight, this just elicited more belly-laughs from Haldor and a further outbreak of giggling from Dahlia and Sofia.

“All right, explain then. What excuse have ye got fer yersel’?” the harridan, this Catalina person, demanded mockingly.

Ivar was breathing heavily from anger and frustration, fueled by the open laughter that had now erupted among his entire family. And by now, even his future wife was smiling and clearly trying to stifle her mirth as well.

His head was pounding again now, so, driven to distraction, he clenched his fists and bellowed at the top of his voice, “Will ye stop yer noise fer a second, woman, and let me speak!?”

A silence would have fallen then if not for the inadequately suppressed merriment of his family and his betrothed. But at least the harridan had shut up, if only temporarily. She was now staring at him expectantly, hands on hips, with a challenge in her eyes.

He tried to bring his emotions under control before answering. “If ye’ll just listen fer a moment,” he said more calmly, “I heard the wee thing cryin’, and I tracked it down and saw it was injured and alone. Aye, I was tryin’ tae catch it, but only so I could help it. I wasnae tryin’ tae hurt it or kill it at all, as ye say. I’d never have hurt it. I meant tae catch it and bring it home tae mend its leg.”

Catalina looked disbelieving, and she had just opened her mouth, likely so she could shout insults at him again, he supposed, when to his relief, Dahlia came to his rescue.

“Aye, that sounds like our Ivar. On the battlefield, he’s fearsome tae his foes, but when it comes tae animals and children,” she paused to shake her head and smiled fondly at him, “he’s as soft as butter. He doesnae even like huntin’ very much. He’d rather stay at home and read a book.”

“That’s right,” Arne put in, wiping away his tears of mirth, “he’s often bringin’ hurt things home, birds mostly, and even a fox cub once, tae heal them,” he said.

“Well, thank ye,” Ivar replied with heavy sarcasm, hardly mollified. “Ye’re speakin’ some sense at last.”

It was not entirely the endorsement he would have wished for, but it would do in the circumstances if it shut this Catalina woman up and showed her how wrong she was. He was not in love with his betrothed—he had not even been introduced to her properly yet—but he did not want to start out with her thinking he was some sort of evil brute who was cruel to animals.

Her sister, the wildcat, was staring at him, but her expression had changed from one of fury to one of… he was unsure… but her cheeks were growing pinker by the second.

“Is-is that true, that ye meant tae help the wee fawn and nae tae kill it?” she asked, sounding sheepish.

Ivar suddenly felt dizzy and put his hand to his now throbbing head. “Aye, ’tis true.”

“Are ye all right, Ivar?” Sofia asked worriedly. “Ye dinnae look very well. I think ye’d better sit down.”

“Aye, he looks as if he’s gonnae collapse any second,” Arne put in and pushed Ivar into a nearby chair. He slumped over and put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples, trying to ease the pain.

“Ach, all that shoutin’ has set off his head again,” his sister said, coming to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Give him a wee dram, Haldor, it might help.”

“Aye,” Haldor replied, quickly fetching the whisky. “Drink this, lad,” he commanded his brother, handing him the glass. “It’ll dae ye good.”

Ivar drank, and he immediately felt the warm tongues of the whisky flickering through his insides, bringing a semblance of life back into his weary bones. Now that the shouting had stopped, and he was sitting down, the thumping in his skull began to retreat a little, as did the dizziness. But his anger at the sister of his betrothed did not, and he could not wait to pay her back for making a fool of him in front of everyone he cared about.

“Well, that was a wee surprise, was it nae? What a peculiar way fer ye two tae meet,” Haldor said, obviously still amused. “Seein’ Catalina here, ye have tae give it tae her fer takin’ ye down like that, Ivar. Such a wee slip of a thing, and ye such a big fella.”

Ivar looked up, needled. “She surprised me. I didnae expect tae be attacked like that by a woman,” he defended himself, his masculine pride smarting.

“I’m afraid me sister can be a little wild at times,” his future bride spoke up in a soft, soothing voice. She looked at him with the same green eyes as her sister, but hers were gentle and kind. She was very beautiful, he realized. “It was unfortunate that ye had tae meet that way. I’m very sorry she hurt ye.” She turned to her sister. “I think ye owe Ivar an apology, Cat,” she told her.

Ivar looked at Catalina. The fire in her eyes had died down, and her cheeks were still crimson. She looked guilty. “I’m very sorry,” she muttered, her gaze meeting his quickly before darting away. Ivar waited for a more fulsome apology, but it never came because at that moment, Stirling appeared and everybody’s attention was diverted.

“Me laird, luncheon is ready tae be served in the private dining room,” the steward announced.

“Very good,” Haldor said, taking them all in with one of his wolf-like smiles. “I’m sure our guests need some refreshment after such a long journey and all that excitement. Shall we go in?”

“Wait a moment, Haldor,” Dahlia said, “with all the fuss, Ivar has nae been properly introduced to his betrothed.”

“Och, aye, I forgot about that,” his brother admitted. “I apologize, Anastasia. We got a little off track there, did we nae?”

“Aye, we did,” Anastasia said, glancing at her sister, an unreadable expression on her lovely features as she added, “thanks tae Catalina here.”

If she was annoyed with her sister for stealing her thunder, he could not tell; her face was a calm as a millpond. But Ivar secretly hoped she was and would berate the little witch for her rude behavior towards her betrothed once they were alone.

Realizing this was a crucial moment he could not escape, he stood up and approached Anastasia with a smile. She smiled back, her green eyes soft as they looked at each other, studying each other’s faces with curiosity. He admitted to himself that though he had no wish to be wed, he was lucky she was such a gentle-natured beauty. And yet, lovely as Anastasia was, in his heart, he felt nothing.

In fact, he sensed sadness in her and wondered if she loved another, someone she had been torn from. Maybe her lovely, calm exterior was hiding a broken heart.

He bowed, and she curtseyed elegantly and gave him her slender hand to kiss.

“Welcome, Anastasia, I’m very pleased tae meet ye. I’m honored that ye’ve agreed tae wed me and have come all this way fer us tae meet,” he said, saying the words he had rehearsed and trying his best to sound as if he meant them. “I promise tae dae me very best tae make ye happy in the years tae come.”

“Thank ye, Ivar, fer yer kind words. I am honored tae be chosen as yer betrothed. I shall dae me very best tae be a good wife tae ye, and I look forward very much tae becoming a part of yer family. I’m sure I shall be very happy here.”

There, after all the waitin’, it was finally done.

There was a smattering of applause and well-wishes from the others—all except Catalina, Ivar noticed. Still angry with her, he hoped she felt as stupid and embarrassed as she had made him feel. What bad luck to have acquired such an ill-tempered, arrogant sister-in-law along with his bride.

However, he was vaguely aware that though he was betrothed to the lovely, gentle Anastasia—clearly dutiful wife material—it was her sister, the vicious wild-cat Catalina, who had made an impression upon him that he did not think he would easily forget. And that had nothing to do with the lump on his head.

In the intimate, wood-paneled private dining hall, the excellent luncheon began with soup, then progressed to tender spring lamb served with kale, mashed turnips, and carrots, and finally to a selection of light desserts. It was all washed down with a good selection of delicious wines.

But for Catalina, the whole thing was an ordeal. Foolish was not the word for the way she was feeling as she sat at the large oval-shaped table, with Arne to her right and Sofia to her left. Unfortunately for her, her prospective brother-in-law, the man she had assaulted, falsely accused, and made a laughingstock in front of his family and future bride, was seated diagonally right opposite her, with Anastasia at his left. She and Ivar had a clear view of each other.

She did not join in much of the conversation and ended up pushing her food around the plate, afraid to raise her eyes in case he was looking at her. And when she did dare to peep at him, he was looking at her, and the lingering resentment in those vivid blue eyes of his was unmistakable. She looked away quickly, feeling her cheeks heating up with shame. She knew her pathetic excuse for an apology back in the parlor had been woefully inadequate, and she feared she had made an enemy for life.

“I wanted tae ask ye, Catalina, what happened tae the little fawn ye saved?” Sofia suddenly asked her during a lull in the conversation. Catalina silently wished the floor would open up and swallow her. It was the last subject she wanted to discuss.

“Um, I, er, I took it back to the inn. It’s in the stables. One of the stable lads is looking after it fer me until I can fetch it,” she explained, conscious that everyone was listening to her. She was too scared to look, but she was sure she could feel Ivar’s eyes on her from across the table.

“D’ye think its broken leg will mend?” Dahlia inquired.

“I dinnae ken fer sure. It looked like a simple break, and I put a splint on it, so all I can dae now is hope fer the best.”

“Aye, that’s part of the reason why we were delayed gettin’ here,” Anastasia said, giving her a cool glance. “I must apologize fer that. I hope it didnae cause ye any inconvenience. Catalina spent so much time tendin’ tae the fawn this mornin’, we were late gettin’ ready and leavin’ the inn.”

“There’s nae need tae apologize,” Ivar put in. “It was nae yer fault, Anastasia. On such a long journey, ye never ken what’ll come up tae cause a delay.”

“Aye, lassie, dinnae fret any more about it. There was nae fixed time fer yer arrival. Ye got here in one piece, that’s the main thing,” Arne said kindly. He seemed to be the most easy-going of the brothers, and Catalina warmed to him.

“Thank ye,” Anastasia replied, smiling with obvious relief. “I was worried ye might be thinkin’ us rude.”

“Ye’re nae the rude one hereabouts,” Ivar muttered, glaring meaningfully across at Catalina. Embarrassed, Catalina could only stare down at her lap as she felt her cheeks flush. With a sinking heart, she realized he was not going to let her off the hook so easily after she’d shown him up in front of his whole family. She silently told herself she should be grateful that he did not seem to hold Anastasia responsible in any way for the unfortunate misunderstanding between them.

Wracked with guilt as she was for her behavior, she felt it was as much as she could hope for that Ivar would treat her sister well. As long as he did that, then she could live with him hating her… and she would hate him right back.