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him. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? This will be only the first test you will have to pass to win her hand. Rebecca is a fine woman and will bringing you many sons. Her father and the Laird have already agreed and she could be in your bed tonight. And a son in her belly before winter.”
    He shook his head. At least now, he was certain Rebecca was not the woman he wanted. Doubtful the stubborn fiery red-haired lass, Kaireen, would leap into his bed in a matter of hours or days even.
    With a shrug, Elva knocked and then pushed open the massive door. On the other side stood a stern woman with a long pointed nose and not a piece of hair poking out from her head covering. A stark contrast to Elva with stray pieces of white hair floating about her round face.
    “He’s here to renegotiate the contract.” Elva acted bored.
    “Why?” Rhiannon, the servant’s eyes narrowed further, giving Bram the impression of a rat.
    Elva shrugged.
    “That is for me to discuss in private with the Laird and Lady.” Bram took a step towards the door.
    How much more would Kaireen cost than Rebecca? Sure, she was the Laird’s daughter, but she appeared to be nearly past marital age. Maybe no one had won her heart either or her father waited for a more political match. The latter thought made Bram’s insides twist.
    “Enter,” the Laird’s voice boomed. “Don’t stand there wasting my time.”
    “Husband,” Lady Liannon called from the darkness of the chamber and bed covers ruffled. “Let him say his peace before we rule. Come, Rhiannon and light some candles so I may get a better look at our Viking stranger.” Candles flickered to life from a flint stone. The Lady looked like Kaireen except for the hair color. Hers was a light brown where her daughter’s was as red as blood.
    The Laird climbed out of bed, donned a black robe, then sat down on a trunk before Bram. His stubborn lift of his chin was the same as Kaireen and his hair, though red, was not as brilliant as Kaireen’s.
    “I’m Bram son of Ragnar.” He bowed. Embers burned in the hearth. “Months ago I wrote to you of an exchange: my services for land and a bride.”
    “Aye. A noble bride, but not one of my daughters. Not Kaireen.” The Laird’s cheeks reddened.
    The Lady Liannon exchanged a look with Rhiannon, but he couldn’t interpret its meaning.
    “Apologies, my Laird… is she already betrothed to someone?” He fought not to be arrogant and his nature to draw his sword and demand he win her by combat.
    The Lady put her hand on her husband’s and glanced over at Bram. “No, but she is our favorite and youngest daughter. We would not give her up so easily. Her cost is ten Rebeccas—or more so.”
    “The cost is not a problem.”
    Laird Liannon stood. “My daughter is not to be bought.”
    Bram stole a glance at Elva from the corner of his eye as he bowed low. Her smirk made him want to cross the room and reprimand her. She knew this! Knew it would be impossible for him alone to pay for a Laird’s daughter. And she’d let him come all this way to play the fool.
    “My Lord, I cannot stop my heart from longing to tell Kai—”
    “No!” The Lady Liannon stood beside her husband. “Whatever we agree to, you must never tell Kaireen that you are falling in love with her. If you win her heart, and she speaks of her love for you, then and only then may you tell her of this vow which you make to me now. I will not have her heart swayed to you out of pity for you. Do you promise?”
    Beside her, the Laird’s face shifted from red to purple and his teeth bared. “I do not agree to any of this! This is madness, I will not have my daughter married to a savage—a Lochlann.”
    He cringed at the Gaelic curse word for his kind. “I vow, my Lady upon my life and all the god’s. And as payment for your daughter, I not only offer up my life and sword, but six of my brother’s and fourteen fellow men who are loyal to me, on my wedding, will serve