Erinsong by Mia Marlowe Page A

nodded. “Fair enough.
And so there’s no misunderstanding, let me
build her in that little sheltered cove. I can test her there for
seaworthiness, but the reef will keep me
from venturing farther. She’ll have to be hauled overland to the
beach before she can be fully tried. When
I’m ready to do that, Connor can come with
me, if he’s up to it.”
    “Handsomer than that a man
couldn’t wish,” the king said, clapping him on the back. “Brenna,
me darlin’, I leave it to ye to see our Keefe Murphy has what
stores he needs for the building of this boat, this... what was it ye said it wanted? A keel, was
it?” He raised a questioning brow at
Keefe. “Ah, it makes no never mind. Build
it with me blessing.”
    “It would please me if you’d name the boat
when it’s finished,” Keefe said to the king. “A good-omened name
protects all who sail in the craft. I’ll build a vessel worthy of a
fine name.”
    “Why, name it for me, boy-o!” Brian suggested
with smile.
    “I can’t do that,” Keefe
explained. “It needs to be a woman’s name
because a ship is like a woman. Reli able
and treacherous in turns, but hard for a man to do
without.”
    “Aye, that’s a woman.”
Brian Ui Niall laughed in agreement and motioned to Brenna. “Bring
a horn for the thirsty men, daughter.
There’s a good lass.”
    Brenna nodded and fetched a horn of ale for
both the king and Keefe.
    The Northman reached out to
touch her arm as she passed
him.
    “Thank you for taking my side this night,
Brenna.”
    Her lips tightened. “Don’t
be thinking more highly of yourself than
ye ought, Keefe Murphy. Against the likes
of Connor McNaught, I’d side with the Devil himself.”
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Brenna hugged herself
against the stiff wind. From her perch on the rocky promontory, she
watched the restless sea, scalloped with whitecaps. Clouds
raced across the sky like a herd of
long-maned white mares. Her view stretched
to the distant horizon where wa ter and
sky merged in a smudge of gray.
    She tried to focus on that distant point, but
her gaze was drawn downward to the man working in the sheltered
cove below. The bare skeleton of a miniature dragonship was taking
shape, the curving strakes molded in sinuous contours. The
symmetry, the clean, even lines of the craft, proclaimed it the
work of a master. Keefe was undoubtedly a shipwright of great
talent.
    Even from this distance,
Brenna sensed his satis faction from the
set of his shoulders. In the short time he’d been there, she’d learned to read his moods from his
posture. When he was frustrated with a problem, the muscles between
his shoulder blades gathered into a hard
knot. When the work was going well, as it
was now, his limbs were loose and relaxed.
    She wouldn’t admit it, even
to herself, but she never tired of watching him. Covertly, of
course. She’d die of shame if anyone noted
and remarked on her interest in the
man.
    His attempt at song floated
up to her. She was even getting used to
hearing the soft, guttural chant he claimed he was
singing.
    He hadn’t made any more
advances toward her. But from time to
time, she felt his eyes on her, hot and knowing. It irritated her that this Northman, this stranger, could lay her bare with just his
gaze.
    You’ve suffered,
Brenna, he’d said. I see it in your eyes every time you
look at me.
    How had he been able to
divine so much about her cut and bleeding
soul?
    “For someone with no use
for men, ye seem to have no trouble keeping track of this one.”
Moira’s voice pulled her out of her
reverie as she came along side
Brenna.
    “Are ye forgetting Da made me his
keeper?”
    “A truly onerous duty, that,” her sister said
dryly.
    “Mayhap ye’d like the job.”
Brenna frowned at her. “ Say the word and
‘tis yours.”
    “No indeed. I’ll be having
far more fun teasing him away from the
work ye’ve set for him. No doubt he’ll be
needing someone to soothe him when ye scold. Ye are a terrible