He had asked Thorolf who this Selig was. But the wily Viking had answered with another question, asking who Kristen had said he was. It was obvious he would get no confidences from her companions, so Royce had said no more. It was as Kristen said. He would learn only what she wanted him to know, and she was through telling him anything. "If you do not want to finish the game, Royce, say so." "What?" "I finished my turn hours ago." Royce sat forward, swiping up the dice. "Do not exaggerate, Cousin. And I have things on my mind." "You have often of late been deeply thoughtful. Of course, 'tis no wonder with all that has happened this summer. And now we have word that the King is coming for a visit, but he does not say when he will arrive." "He will come when he comes." Royce grunted. "That does not concern me." "Nay? Then you must still be worried about the prisoners," Alden speculated. "Or is it only one prisoner who has been on your mind?" "Who is that?" "Who, indeed?" Alden laughed. "Come now, Royce. Why did you not tell me she was so incredibly lovely?" "Tell me something, Alden. She has tried to kill you twice. How can you laugh about her?" "She has her reasons, I imagine, but even so, who could despise such a beautiful woman?" "I can." "Can you? Why? Surely you do not blame her for what the Danes did? She is not a Dane." "You forget her companions came here to raid and kill, too, and would have laid waste to Wyndhurst if you had not stopped them in the forest." A small voice intruded on their conversation. "They would have passed by here." Royce and Alden both glanced toward Meghan, who had come quietly to stand near their table to watch them play. Royce frowned, but quickly smoothed his features out when Meghan lowered her eyes from him. Gently he asked, "Why do you say that, midget?" She peeked up at him, then came closer when she saw he was not angry with her for interrupting them.
"Kristen told me so. She said they were after Jurro monastery, and that only as a lark." "When did you speak to her?" "The day after she was brought in the hall." "Did she tell you aught else, Meghan?" "Many things. She talked about her family. She said her father is even taller than you and he has a terrible temper, too." Meghan stopped, realizing what she had unwittingly stated. "I did not mean to imply—" "Of course you did," Alden teased her with a grin, pulling her onto his lap. "We all know what a terrible temper your brother has." Royce smiled at her to show he was not angry. "Go on, midget. What else did the wench tell you?" "You are not revealing secrets, are you, Meghan?" Alden continued to tease. "Alden!" Royce snapped impatiently. "Oh-ho, that interested, are you?" Meghan surprised them both by asking then, "Why did you order her chained to the wall, Royce?" He was just annoyed enough with AMen to answer with a sneer, "Because she wants to kill our cousin here, and he has not the strength to protect himself from her, so I must do it for him." Meghan turned around in his lap to give Alden a wide-eyed look. "Why does she want to kill you?" "Why, indeed?" he bemoaned mockingly. "I am such a nice fellow." "Then you must be mistaken," Meghan said. "Nay, little one, 'tis in fact true," Alden admitted. "I am supposed to have killed someone she calls Selig, and she says she wants revenge for his death." "You killed Selig?" Meghan gasped. "Oh, Alden, why did you have to be the one? She must hate you terribly." Royce leaned across the table and grasped his sister's chin to make her look at him. "Do you know who Selig was, Meghan?" he asked softly. "Yea, she told me who he was. But she got so upset when she mentioned him. 'Twas after I told her Jurro was destroyed by the Danes. She said Selig and half the others died for naught. She frightened me then, for she pounded the table with her fists, then toppled it over. I have not talked to her since, but I suppose now she was only violent because of her grief. She was so friendly to me before that." "Aye, she can be a very friendly wench when it suits her," Royce murmured to himself, but he was not forgetting what interested him most. "Who was Selig, Meghan?" "Did Alden not ask her?" "Meghan!" She paled at his raised voice and answered quickly, "Her brother, Royce. She said he was her friend, and brother." Even in his sudden confusion at her revelation, Royce noted her anxiety and cursed himself for causing it with his impatience. "Meghan, sweet, I am not angry with you." "Not even for speaking to her?" "Nay, not even for that," he assured her. "Now, why not go and see what treasures Darrelle has found? She has brought in some of the cargo that was taken from the Viking ship. She said something about finding fur trimmings for new gowns for you and her." Meghan went off happily to the other side of the hall, where the women were gathered. Royce sat back, staring at Alden, seeing that his cousin was as surprised as he was. "A brother!" Royce said incredulously. "How could she have a brother among those men? 'Twould mean he knew why she was there and countenanced it." "Mayhap we were wrong in assuming she is a whore?" Alden suggested. "Nay," Royce replied testily. "She has admitted what she is."
Alden shrugged. "Then they must have a different outlook on such things. What do you really know of their kind? Mayhap they find naught wrong with a woman who gives herself to many. Who is to say all their women are not whores?" Royce frowned, for he was remembering Kristen telling him she knew no other whores. But he did not mention this to Alden, for he saw that Darrelle was about to interrupt them. "Royce, look at this," Darrelle cried excitedly, showing him the gown she had found. "Have you ever seen such fine velvet? It must surely come from the Far East." He merely glanced disinterestedly at the dark-green material she held, until she shook it out and held it up in front of her, so that it lay over her own clothes. The gown was sleeveless, and very rich indeed, with precious pearls forming a thick rope along the deep V of the neckline. Another rope of pearls was tied about the narrow waist, apparently to be used for a girdle. A solid-gold clasp was used for fastening the belt. "There is another gown of the same design," Darrelle went on to say. "And shoes to match, with armbands of pure gold and a necklace of amber stones. They were all bundled together. Will you give them to Corliss, Royce? She will surely love such rich gifts. If not, I can make use of them myself. But whichever, the gowns will have to be altered. Sleeves have to be added, but the same material can be used, for much of it has to be cut off the bottom. The gowns are much too long, as you can see. I swear the women of Norway must all be giants. To wear such long gowns they would have to be."
Royce was staring at the extra material—a good half foot of it, at least—that lay on the floor at Darrelle's feet. "Have them taken to my chamber, Cousin." "You do not want me to alter them?" she asked in disappointment. "Nay, not just yet." The moment Darrelle walked away, Royce's eyes flew to the cooking area at the far end of the hall, and lit on Kristen. She stood with her head bent over the task she was about, yet she still stood at least half a foot or more above the other women around her. Her long, graceful body was covered in the same clothes she had been given, clothes too tight and confining for her, and much too short. "What are you thinking, Cousin?" Alden asked suspiciously, seeing where his attention had gone. "That the clothes belong to my pretty new slave," Royce replied without taking his eyes from Kristen. "Come now, you cannot really think so!" Alden scoffed. " 'Twould mean she is no common wench, to own such rich apparel. Not even Queen Ealhswith has aught so fine as that green velvet. And the pearls alone are worth a fortune." Royce glanced back at Alden, his expression not as intense, but still thoughtful. "I suppose 'tis unlikely, but I will find out for certain before this day is through." "How? Asking if the clothes are hers will not suffice. She will tell you aye, whether 'tis true or not, for what woman would not claim such fine garb, when there is no one to deny the claim?" "We shall see." Royce said this so ominously that Alden spared a moment's pity for the Viking wench, wondering in what dire manner his cousin was planning to get at the truth. He did not care to know himself.
Chapter Seventeen
The. work was done for the day, and Kristen was ready to drop gratefully onto her pallet. The sweltering heat had worn her ragged today, and there had been the added warmth of the hearth, near which she was chained, and no breeze to take some of its heat away. She could have kissed Eda when she bent down to remove the new chain that Kristen was made to wear now, but she restrained herself. Eda was still sulking
over Kristen's sharpness with her the other day. Kristen had apologized later that same day, but it had not gone far toward appeasing the older woman. And her sulking added to Kristen's burden, for Eda was the only one she felt free to talk to. With the old woman's cold silence, Kristen's day was dreary indeed.
Eda led Kristen away, but not to the stairs to retire. She was told curtly that she was to have a bath. As tired as she was, Kristen could not complain about that. It would be only her second bath since she was brought into the hall. She knew Darrelle bathed often through the week, as did Royce, but the servants rarely. As accustomed to cleanliness as she was herself, the small container of water she was given daily to sponge herself with was just not adequate.
Simply the thought of being completely clean again perked up her spirits. Yet she was not to have a leisurely bath, for other servants were waiting to make use of the same water. She was first into the tub, however, which made all the difference. The water was warm this time, and clean, and only Eda remained in the small room with her.
While Kristen bathed and quickly washed her hair, Eda scrubbed her only set of clothes. She was given a tent-like robe of coarse, thin wool to wear for the night, while her clothes dried. It was simply a long rectangle of gray cloth, with a circle cut out in the center for her head to slip through. Wrapped around her sides and belted, it sufficed, though typically it fell short on her. But she was naked underneath, and felt naked underneath. The only reason she didn't balk at wearing a garment without sewn side seams was that she was going straight to her chamber.
But Kristen was not going straight to her chamber as she had supposed. Upstairs, Eda pushed her past her door near the stairs and did not stop until the end of the corridor was reached, where the lord's chamber was. Kristen backed away warily. "Why?" she demanded as Eda knocked on the door. Eda did not bother to look at her, but Kristen saw her shrug. "I do what I am told. The reasons are not explained to me." "He said he wanted to see me?" "He told me to bring you here. And here you are." Eda opened the door and waited for Kristen to enter. Kristen hesitated, but only for a moment. She was not afraid, but she couldn't think of a reason why she would be brought here at night. If Royce wanted to question her again, he would have done so during the day, wouldn't he?
She stepped into the room, habit making her take small steps, even though Eda had not put her shackles back on after the bath. As the last time she was brought here after her bath, Eda carried the shackles, and as the last time, she placed them on Royce's table and then left the room, closing the door behind her.
He stood by one of the open windows in front of her, facing her. She was familiar with this room now, so did not glance about it, but looked directly at Royce, waiting to learn what she was doing here. She felt self-conscious in the robe now. She should have balked at wearing it. If the belt loosened, she would be rendered practically naked. That was no way to appear in the presence of this man. A few days ago she might have considered such a tactic to break his control, but now she wasn't sure she still wanted him. No, that wasn't true. She still wanted him. What she wasn't sure of was if it was such a good idea to get what she wanted. "It has come to my attention that the clothes given to you do not fit you very well." This was the last thing Kristen expected to hear him say. That he was thinking of her clothes, when she had just been thinking of her clothes, gave her an impulse to giggle. She restrained herself. "Did you only just notice?" Royce frowned at her sarcasm. "There is a gown on my bed. See if it fits you." "You want me to try it on now?" "Aye." "Do you leave, or will you stay to watch?" Royce tensed at her taunting question. Of course she would not care if he watched or not. She was no doubt immune to having men see her naked. He felt his temper rising, and could not seem to stop it. His tone was caustic when he replied. "I have no wish to see you disrobe, wench. I will give you my back until you have the gown on." Coward, she said to herself. To him she retorted, "How very noble of you." Kristen turned toward the bed to get the gown, but took only one step, then stopped abruptly. The green velvet was spread out on the bed so she could see it clearly, including the pearl border. But even if it wasn't, she would have recognized the material of this particular gown. It was her favorite, for her mother had made it for her, and her mother hated to sew, which was why the gown was so special to Kristen. Brenna had spent many long hours on it last year to give it to her daughter for the winter solstice feast. "What are you waiting for?" Kristen glanced over her shoulder at him to see that he had not turned his back on her, but had been watching her. She felt a trap as surely as if the hidden door had already sprung open. There could be only one reason he would want to see her in that gown. He thought it was hers. And no gown like that would belong to a whore. He must be thinking just that. She had every right to be suspicious of his motives. She would be a fool to hide the fact that she knew what he was about. It was too obvious. She decided to attack. "What does this mean?" "What does what mean?" She faced him, her eyes narrowing at his deliberate evasiveness. "Why would you want me to try on such a gown, milord?" "I told you why." "Aye, to see if it fits me. And if it does, will you give it to me? I think not. So what is the purpose?" " Tis not your place to question my motives, wench." Irritation bubbled to the surface. "Tell that to your slaves who are born slaves! You forget who I am!" "Nay!" he shouted at her. " 'Tis who you are that is in question!" "Again?" She feigned surprise now, but was in fact groaning inside to have his suspicions out in the open. "What has a gown to do with who I am?" "Tis yours, is it not?" She wanted to curse him for being so perceptive, but smiled at him instead. "Is that what you think? Next you will be saying I am a virgin." "Are you?" "Would you like to find out firsthand, milord?" she asked provocatively, daringly, playing the part, but praying he would not call her bluff. Her sexual aggression had angered him before, and it did so again now. He glowered at her in answer, and she laughed, pressing her point. "Come now, milord. How can you think that someone like me could own a gown as fine as that one? Tis a gown for a princess, or a rich merchant's wife." "Or a whore with a rich lover who is too generous!" he snapped, not giving up. Kristen gave him a saucy grin. "You give me more credit than I deserve, Saxon. Truly, you flatter me. But I assure you that if I had ever had a rich lover, I would not have let the fellow get away from me." "Very well, you have denied the gown is yours. Now appease me and put it on anyway." Curse him for a stubborn, pigheaded. .. "I will not. 'Tis cruel of you to ask me to." "Why?" "'Twould be a luxury beyond measure to feel that velvet against my skin after wearing your coarse slave rags. But for how long can I wear it? Only until your ridiculous notions about me are satisfied," she answered for him. "Then you give me back the rags. Is that not cruel?" Royce smiled at her. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile. It eased the lean hardness of his face, and made her heart feel as if it had flipped over. "You have a way with words, wench, and an answer for everything. But you overlook one thing. In your position, you have no decisions or choices to make. You do as you are bid, no matter what is bid, whether it seems cruel to you or not. Is that simple enough for you to understand?" "Aye." "Then put the gown on." He had spoken in an agreeably soft tone, but this last was stated quite firmly. He was determined to see her in that gown, no matter what she said. And what he would see if she put it on, was that it fit her like a second skin, perfectly. He would know it was hers. He would know she had lied. If he could ask her tonight if she was a virgin, then something had already made him suspect that she was not a whore. It was proof he wanted, proof he was set on having, one way or another, before she left this chamber.
He was wrong about one thing. She did have a choice to make. She could put the gown on and watch him turn cruel and vengeful, and rape her viciously just on principle, because it was what he said he would do if she was a virgin. Or she could entice him to make love to her in passion, because he wanted her, as she wanted him.
Either way, she knew the time had come. She was going to lose her innocence tonight. And the choice was simple. She could not bear for h
er first encounter with a man to be something she would remember with loathing. Royce desired her even though he was loath to admit it. She desired him. Their joining could be beautiful. She refused to let it be otherwise, especially for this first time. If he had to find out she was a virgin, it had to be after the fact. It would not matter afterward. And if she were lucky, it would not matter to him then either. But even if it did, she would have other defenses then, and the advantage of knowing him intimately.
"How long do you intend to make me wait?" Royce cut sharply into her thoughts. "All night, milord," Kristen said softly. "I will not assist in this foolishness." He crossed to her with angry strides. When he stopped and she looked up at him, she had the feeling that he wanted to lay hands on her and shake her. "You dare to defy me?" She met his furious gaze with an innocent look. "Surely you are not surprised? We Vikings are known to be daring, and bold, and have you not called me brazen too? So I am. If you want to see me in the gown, milord, you will have to put it on me." "You think I would not?" "Nay, you will not." It was a challenge he could not refuse. With a single jerk, Royce opened her belt, then yanked the robe over her head and threw it aside. He would not look down at her, though, at least not below her face. For a long moment, his eyes bored into hers. Then he turned on his heel and stepped to the bed to swipe up the velvet gown in one fist.
It was the full sight of her that met him when he turned around to bring the gown to her. If he could have been spared that, if he could have kept his eyes fixed only on her face, Royce might have succeeded with his purpose. As it was, he couldn't move, he was so entranced.