Surrender My Love

  For a moment Ragnar did, and had the urge to laugh. With it came his relief, now that she had said something that sounded reasonable—and more like her.

  Still, he had to ask, “Are you sure ’tis not guilt guiding you?”

  She had stopped feeling guilty the day Selig put those damned chains on her, but she couldn’t tell her brother that. What she still regretted was giving Selig a reason to despise her, because it didn’t look like she was ever going to be forgiven for it.

  So she lied again. “I am forgiven, so there is no longer guilt to trouble me.”

  His eyes searched hers for a long moment before he sighed. “Are you really asking me to leave you here with him?”

  This was her most difficult answer to give. She wanted so much to go home. She wanted her life returned to normal. She was tired of the anger and confusion, and being attracted to a man she didn’t dare love.

  “Aye,” she said, and swore to herself it would be the last lie she would ever tell him.

  Chapter 33

  SELIG CAME AWAKE at the third shaking. His hands went immediately to his temples.

  “Thor’s teeth, did someone hit me over the head again?” he groaned.

  “You have yourself to thank this time—and my excellent ale.”

  “Is that you, Kris?”

  “Why do you not open your eyes and see for yourself?” she queried.

  “I would as soon not. I sense too much light even with them closed.”

  Kristen shook her head at him. Amusement was high in her tone. “So this is what marriage has led you to?”

  Another groan. “How could I forget?”

  His eyes did open now, the barest crack, but not to look at his sister. His head turned directly to the corner where Erika could usually be found. That it was empty did not cause any undue alarm—yet.

  “Where is she?”

  “Speaking with her brother in the chapel.”

  His eyes flared wide and came accusingly to Kristen now. “And no one woke me?”

  He started to sit up, but something dragged him back down. Erika’s chains, wrapped around his neck. He only vaguely recalled one of the servants telling him he had found them out in the bailey. Selig had hung them around his neck for want of somewhere else to put them, since he hadn’t been willing at the time to go near his chamber.

  “No one woke you because you were not needed,” Kristen was explaining. “If she is to convince her brother that you are not the miserable wretch who has kept her chained nearly to your side, it cannot be with you standing close to intimidate her.”

  He didn’t address the part about the chains, merely grumbled, “I do not intimidate her.”

  “Her brother would not see it that way.”

  He tossed off the chains and tried sitting up again. He couldn’t move as fast as he wanted, not when the pain from his overindulgence was almost as bad as that first morning he awoke with the head injury. Yet what he was feeling could only be called panic.

  “Did you at least place a spy to hear what she tells him?” he demanded.

  Kristen’s brows shot up. “When only you, me, and Father can speak their language? You might not mind asking Father to spy for you, but I would not be so daring.”

  “You should have seen to the task yourself.”

  “Me?” she exclaimed. “I did my part by getting the man well and truly furious with me. He ought to like you now in comparison.”

  He gave her a glare. She was just short of laughing at him. And the only effort she made to help him was to fetch his comb for him. He wasn’t even going to try changing the clothes he had fallen asleep in.

  When he was just about out the door, she ventured to ask, “Do you still hate her?”

  He spared a moment to glance back at her. “Why do you ask me that again?”

  Kristen shrugged. “Because you married her. That is carrying revenge a bit far, if you ask me.”

  “Stay out of it, Kris.”

  She tsked her tongue. “Gladly, just as soon as a certain arrogant jackdaw is gone from my home.”

  He winced. “I am not arrogant.”

  “I meant her brother, lackwit, not mine.”

  Selig found them still alone in the chapel, sitting side by side, their voices too soft for him to overhear, even though he eavesdropped for a while, hoping to hear something. Ragnar’s arm was around her shoulder. Erika’s head rested against his. This was her brother. Still, Selig had the urge to remove that arm from her.

  “I trust you have had a pleasant reunion?”

  Erika turned at the sound of his voice. Ragnar came abruptly to his feet. His expression revealed nothing, so Selig had no clue to what he had been told. Her expression was anxious, which could have meant anything, including she was still fearful for her brother.

  Selig had stopped by the smith long enough to collect his new sword. He wore it now, though without armor, for he still wore the clothes he had been married in. Erika was likewise still in her finery. As he didn’t recall getting to his bed last night, he didn’t recall noticing if she had been in his chamber when he did, much less if she had removed her clothes or slept in them like he did.

  Ragnar, of course, had entered Wyndhurst fully armed, though it was his left hand that rested casually on his sword hilt as he approached Selig, indicating that he didn’t mean to use the weapon. A circumstance which could change at any given moment.

  Ragnar stopped two feet away. His right fist landed before Selig saw it coming. Erika shot to her feet, crying, “Do not—!” but she cut off her words, for Selig had barely been moved by the punch. In fact, only his face had turned with it, and there was subtle amusement in his expression when he looked back at Ragnar.

  To give Ragnar his due, he was annoyed rather than distressed that he had done so little damage. Erika, however, was absolutely frantic, because she was sure she held no power over her husband, and so would have no luck in persuading him not to retaliate. She didn’t get the opportunity to try.

  “That was for the worry you put me through,” Ragnar told Selig plainly.

  “Ah,” Selig replied, as if that made perfect sense. He fingered his cheek before adding, “Then ’tis not your wish to fight me?”

  “Not at the present, though I reserve the right to alter that decision in future.”

  “Certainly.”

  Selig’s smile had Ragnar close to losing his temper again. “Understand me, Haardrad. I do not believe much of Erika’s tale, yet is she sincere in her desire to stay with you. I like it not, but I will grant her wish. However, I leave her man Turgeis with her. If she comes to her senses and wants to return home, he will bring her, and Odin help you if you try to stop him.”

  That took care of Selig’s amusement, replacing it with something quite unfamiliar—possessiveness. “This is her home now. She will have no wish to leave Wessex.”

  It was Ragnar’s trun to smile, and not very pleasantly. “Or you?” And he scoffed, “She is enamored of your face, man, but more than that is needed to sustain love—if there be any. Bring her to Gronwood in six months and we will see if what she feels for you has a chance of enduring. If so, then I will be pleased to call you brother.”

  Selig wasn’t going to worry about what might or might not happen six months away. Ragnar was conceding, would leave here without his sister. Selig had been able to diffuse the situation without killing the man, or rather, Erika had managed to do it. He would give anything to know exactly what she had told her brother, aside from the fact that she thought him handsome. Did she really? He shouldn’t be so pleased to know it, but he was.

  Ragnar turned to find that Erika had come up behind him. He hugged her now, and Selig again experienced that ridiculous urge to tear them apart.

  Her voice held dismay as she asked her brother, “You are not leaving yet, are you?”

  “Nay, Rika,” he assured her. “But I must inform my men of what has occurred. We will not depart until the morrow, so I will return to spend the tim
e with you.”

  His promise relieved her enough that she even smiled. “And you must tell me more of this great heiress who refused to marry you.”

  “She refused, but her father did not. Yet am I reconsidering the offer. Thurston needs a mother who will give him the care you did. But we will speak of it later.”

  He had already assured her that Thurston was fine, his arm healing apace. He had also mentioned that the thefts Gronwood had been plagued with had abruptly ended with Wulnoth’s death. Turgeis had saved him the trouble of hanging the man, apparently, and she was not really surprised to learn that Wulnoth had been responsible for the thefts. It explained why a man so eager for victims had not come up with one for that crime.

  Ragnar turned to leave and caught Selig staring as if mesmerized by Erika’s smile—which vanished the moment she noticed his perusal. Ragnar frowned and told Selig in parting, “She and I share the same father with a score of other siblings, but Erika is the only one of them who shared the same mother with me. Besides my son, she is the only family I acknowledge and is very dear to me. You have wed her without my consent. If you hurt her, I will take back the life I saved.”

  Selig said nothing to that. He liked ultimatums no more than he liked subtle threats. Blatant threats were usually answered immediately and in kind. But for her brother he had to make an exception. He wished he didn’t understand so perfectly how the man felt, but he did.

  He nodded curtly and Ragnar left. It was a moment before Selig turned to gaze at Erika again. He didn’t like the wary look she returned.

  And then the truth occurred to him with no little amazement and relief. “You actually lied to him?”

  The wariness left abruptly, replaced with something akin to annoyance. “You doubted I would? We had a bargain. You kept your part, so I could do no less.”

  Mention of the “bargain” brought some annoyance of his own. But before he could react to it, another joined them.

  Erika saw him first and beamed with pleasure. “Turgeis! Ragnar did not mention you were—”

  She ended on a gasp as Turgeis reached for Selig to turn him around. Ragnar’s punch hadn’t moved Selig. Turgeis’s punch knocked him flat on his back and unconscious.

  “Nay!” Erika cried and fell to her knees beside Selig. “You cannot hurt him, Turgeis!”

  His voice was a growl. “Why can I not?”

  “He has suffered enough at our hands.”

  “And you have not suffered at his?”

  “Not at all.”

  He lifted her to her feet. “Do not lie to me as you did to your brother.”

  She flushed. “In this I am not. Truly, Turgeis. All he did to me was try to embarrass me, and make threats that never came to pass.”

  “He still means to have his revenge.”

  “Mayhap,” she allowed, “But you cannot interfere. He is my husband.”

  “Husbands can be gotten rid of.”

  “Do not even think it!”

  Selig moaned then. Erika bent to him again. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on her.

  “I believe you know my friend Turgeis,” she said hesitantly.

  Selig looked beyond her to the giant standing at her back. “Did you also hit me for the worry I caused you, or are we not finished?”

  “My lady says we are finished—for now.”

  Selig’s eyes dropped back to Erika. “You were wise to call him off. My family would not take it kindly were I to leave here all mangled, and neither would I.”

  Erika grinned and glanced over her shoulder. “You see, Turgeis? Naught but threats.”

  Turgeis and Selig both grunted in reply.

  Chapter 34

  RAGNAR ASKED TO see Selig’s home and was taken there that afternoon, after the king’s departure. Erika was in a fine state of nerves the while they were gone, because she had not been invited to accompany them, and they left before she got up the nerve to invite herself. And they went alone, which made her anxiety that much worse.

  She remained in the hall, since no one told her she couldn’t. But the only ones who spoke to her at all were Selig’s parents, and that just briefly. From the rest of the hall, at least from the women, she received nothing but hostile looks. She had dared to marry their Selig. They weren’t going to forgive her for it.

  She could have cared less right then. All she could think about was her brother and husband killing each other, and no one around to try to stop them.

  Anything could have happened, but amazingly, nothing did. Ragnar and Selig returned before dark, both without wounds, and Ragnar certainly in better humor than when he had left.

  He had only good things to say about Selig’s home—from a man’s point of view. “He has a few very accommodating slaves whom a wife might want to get rid of, but other than that, I think you will do well there.”

  The emphasis he put on that word told her that Ragnar, at least, had been “accommodated,” which would account for his relaxed mood. Her brother always was unusually mellow after fornicating. She looked for the same signs in her husband, but he was no different than when she had seen him before in the midst of many, quick to smile at all the women and quick to laugh, even at himself.

  Not that it would bother her had he availed himself also of those accommodating women. He could and would do as he liked, as all men did, and she was expected to say nothing, not just because of their unique relationship, but because wives rarely if ever interfered in their husbands’ doings. A wife would be lucky if one or more of her husbands’ lemans didn’t live under the same roof with her.

  Erika wasn’t going to break tradition and complain if she wasn’t one of the lucky ones. She would have to care to do that, to actually love her husband and expect more from him. Not likely on either account.

  While her brother’s mood had risen to pleasant, Erika’s had decreased to just short of simmering. She could blame it on the day and all the lies she had told, even on the worrying she had done. She certainly didn’t blame it on Selig’s possible unfaithfulness.

  “He has an amusing sense of humor, Rika,” Ragnar told her before they sat down to table. “But then, I am sure you have already discovered that for yourself.”

  She had done no such thing, and was not likely to. Selig? Amusing? About as much as a frothing wolf.

  Turgeis had gone back to Ragnar’s camp for the afternoon, but he returned for the evening meal. As was his custom, he sat with the retainers at another table. The seats around him were empty, the men here wary of getting anywhere near him. Even the servants were extremely nervous about serving him. Two accidents occurred because of shaking fingers.

  Aware of it, this, too, annoyed Erika. Her friend had given these Saxons no cause to fear him, but they saw his size and looked no further. It did not help, of course, that he did a lot of glowering in Selig’s direction, and when Turgeis glowered, he looked quite fierce. It didn’t seem to bother Selig, however, so it shouldn’t bother anyone else.

  But it recalled to Erika a conclusion she had reached and worried over in the past. Turgeis was a lonely man. The people of Gronwood had come to accept him, which meant they ignored him. None had ever befriended him.

  Erika was, in truth, his only friend, which was sad indeed. She had tried to rectify that before. She had assigned Turgeis a squire, but the boy had run away. She had involved him in tasks with men his age, but nothing had come of it. She had even tried to interest the women of Gronwood in him, but they had either looked horrified by the notion or laughed it off. He was nigh two score in years. He ought to have a wife and family of his own.

  She had one small hope that it might be different here in Wessex, with new people, including Norwegians like himself. Even the women here were already accustomed to Selig and Royce with their extreme height, and Turgeis was only a half foot taller than they. But from what she was already seeing, the hope was not strong.

  At her own table, she sat between her brother and husband. For Ragnar’s benefit, Selig
’s arm came around her shoulders quite frequently in a show of husbandly affection. He even leaned close at one point and kissed her neck, setting off all sorts of pleasant reactions in her body—which she didn’t appreciate one bit. It wasn’t as if he were going to do anything about what he was thoughtlessly causing her to feel.

  She was ignored for the most part as the two men spoke around her of subjects she had no interest in, or with the others at the table. Selig’s family also made Ragnar feel welcome, which she was grateful for. It could have been an extremely uncomfortable meal for them both, but Ragnar enjoyed himself. So did Selig, for that matter. He laughed a lot. And he didn’t drown himself in ale as he had the previous night. Only Erika could wish she were elsewhere, though for her brother’s sake, her demeanor said otherwise.

  When she was finally able to leave without undue notice, she was surprised to hear Selig make his excuses to depart with her. Not only that, but his arm went around her waist as he escorted her from the hall, again for Ragnar’s benefit but there nonetheless, and she was painfully aware of it, the fingers spread wide on the side of her ribs, holding her tight to his side. Nor did he release her once they reached the upper hallway and were no longer under scrutiny, though she made a subtle effort to move away from him.

  “You must admit, wench, this serves nearly as well as your leash,” he said to her as he opened the door to his—now their—chamber.

  She was able to jerk away from him then. After that remark, she would likely have clawed him to see it so. And she would have made a scathing reply if the clothes on the bed had not caught her attention and drawn her to them.

  He had come right up behind her, though he didn’t touch her again. “My sister is generous,” he said.

  She was indeed. There were three gowns there with matching chainses, and not one could be considered ready for charitable donations.

  “Her generosity is for you, not me,” she replied a touch bitterly.