He explained briefly, ending with, “We will sleep here for a few days.” And then suddenly he grinned, glancing around at the room they had shared before they wed. “Do you want the floor or the bed?”
Her scowl was immediate. “That is not funny.”
“You will think so if you pick the floor and we end up making love on it.”
Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. “I assume you mean on the morrow?”
His grin grew wider. “Actually, now that it has been mentioned—”
She gasped, mostly in surprise. “But you cannot possibly…you have already…twice…” She didn’t try to finish when he started laughing—and walking toward her.
“Verily, Erika”—that sensual smile was fully in place now—“how little you know your husband.”
But she was learning, and, sweet Freya, sometimes most pleasantly.
Chapter 42
THE WYNDHURST PATROL brought advance word of the king’s approach late the next afternoon, giving Royce the opportunity to ride out to meet him. He went alone, since a discussion on horseback was easier between two people rather than three or four, and he wanted to gauge Alfred’s mood on this matter before he met with Selig about it. Though the very fact that Alfred had come so quickly and ahead of his entourage, with only a small escort, said a great deal.
“I had hoped our next visit would be without incident,” Alfred began.
Royce winced. “My in-laws do keep things from becoming boring around here.”
Alfred acknowledged the sally with a brief smile, then got to the heart of the matter. “’Tis a grave accusation your brother-in-law makes. Of course, Lord Durwyn will be allowed to face his accuser.”
“He denies it, then?”
“He has yet to be told,” Alfred admitted. “I thought it best to see to the matter all at once, and I did not want to arouse his suspicions by inviting him to ride ahead with me. An element of surprise would be helpful in this so he has no opportunity to device a defense if he has none, and ’twould be best if your brother-in-law springs it.”
“He will be glad to, but he may also challenge Durwyn at the same time.”
“Nay, you must prevent that.”
Royce had known Alfred would say that. But stopping a Viking intent on revenge was well nigh impossible, as he knew from firsthand experience.
Alfred considered that subject settled, however, and went on to the next. “I have tried to reason why Durwyn would do this. He hates the Danes, of course, nigh as much as you. He lost his only child to them. But I do not think that can be the only reason.”
“I agree,” Royce replied. “This attack was not against the Danes, but against you—or rather, against your plan to strengthen the peace.”
“Exactly,” Alfred said. “And if you consider the nature of that plan, then mayhap you can discern a logical reason for Durwyn’s interference.”
Royce frowned. “You know something I do not?”
“Something I wish I had recalled the sooner, that one of the offered heiresses is a neighbor of Durwyn’s, the very girl who would have wed his son, Edred, if the lad had not died beforehand.”
In Alfred’s defense, Royce said, “Lord Durwyn does not know you as well as he knew your brothers. ’Tis likely he assumed you would put the good of the peace before the concerns of one single lord.”
“He would have been wrong, inasmuch as wedding a Dane to that particular girl would have led to outright battles eventually, with neighbors such as Durwyn. How, then, would that have strengthened the peace? Nay, he should have come to me with his rancor. There are other heiresses who could have served in lieu of this one. Instead he took matters into his own hands and resorted to outright murder—assuming your brother-in-law has not made a mistake.”
“Aye, assuming that.”
Alfred sighed. “I fear he is not wrong, and this is a nasty business that I do not look forward to. I can only guess that Durwyn resides with the court now so he will have notice of the next delegation I would have sent, which he would have attacked as well. I was even informed that he came to court with a large party of men, but because he never presented them, I gave it no further thought—before this.”
“How many men?”
“Enough to attack a small number and be assured of leaving no survivors. And they do not travel with us directly, but they always camp near. I have grown lax in not suspecting vipers so close to home.”
“How could you know?”
Alfred was not as forgiving of himself. “That is no excuse. With so many losses to the Danes, Durwyn cannot be the only one who does not embrace the peace. But in his case, we will know for certes on the morrow, when he arrives with the rest of the court—or at least by the next day. Verily, I do not expect them all at once. How your wife ever rode to East Anglia and returned so quickly, I cannot imagine. It would have taken my entourage five, mayhap ten times as long.”
Ending on that lighter note put them both at ease, and no more was spoken of the matter that day, other than the questioning that Selig had to be put through. Alfred did, however, reiterate to Selig that if Durwyn was found to be guilty after the confrontation, then his disposition was a royal prerogative, though he relented enough to add, “If it comes down to your word against his, with no proof in the offing, I would not find it amiss if I heard a challenge issued,” which put Selig at ease on the matter.
While the men had their discussions, Kristen prepared for the return of the royal court, and Erika, with nothing to occupy her here as she had at home, offered to help. It was a mistake. This was the first time she had actually tried talking to Selig’s sister since the journey to Wyndhurst, and she quickly found that nothing had changed.
The clothes lent to her by Kristen were as she had thought, not for her sake, but for Selig’s. She herself was barely tolerated. In fact, Kristen’s manner toward her was an extension of the other women’s, purely hostile, but for a different reason.
Erika, however, was no longer as meekly accepting of circumstances as she had been. Her guilt had kept her from fighting back before, but she had exonerated herself of that. She was no longer willing to accept total blame, and besides, she was the man’s wife now. They had all seen to that.
So she did not hesitate to confront her sister-in-law’s frosty manner when she finally found a moment alone with her in the smokehouse. She didn’t even warm up to the subject, asking baldly, “If you still hate me, why did you not protest this marriage?”
Kristen was caught off guard, yet her manner was still stiff in her reply, and she didn’t mince words either. “I do not exactly…hate you. But I doubt me I can ever forgive what you did. Mayhap Selig can in time, since that is his nature, at least where women are concerned. But I cannot.”
“Has it not occurred to you that if my brother had been at Gronwood at the time, Selig would likely have been hanged instead of lashed? I am sick of feeling guilty for something he instigated with his insults. Sweet Freya, I even suggested excuses that he could have used, so that I could simply let him go, but he ignored them, insisting on a truth that was highly suspect and only made him appear more guilty. And do not say again that it was the truth, because what he claimed was not believable at the time.”
“Are you finished?” Kristen asked frigidly.
Erika sighed. “Certainly, and as usual, what I say makes no difference.”
“Mayhap because the lashing was not what I referred to, is no longer even an issue, with him healed from it. What I find unforgivable is that you were so vindictive that you laughed at his suffering.”
“I did what?”
“Do not try and deny it, Erika. He has mentioned it more than once to me.” And Kristen repeated his words with rising anger. “‘It amused her to see me in pain. Her laughter I will never forget.’”
Erika gasped. “That is a lie! I never laughed during the interrogation. Ask Turgeis. He was there.”
“I said naught about the interrogation. ’Twas the l
ashing Selig referred to.”
“But I was not even there for it!” Erika cried. “Had I still been there, it would never have occurred. Had my nephew not broken his arm, I would have stopped it in time. But I was called away. And I did not see your brother again until you did.”
“So your brother tried to tell me, but think you I would believe you over Selig? If you say it happened differently, then discuss it with him, but do not try to convince me—”
“To what purpose?” Erika cut in, her own anger mounting. “He does not believe me in what I say, any more than I believe him, any more than you believe me.” And then she added with scathing derision, “But thank you for telling me this. I had not realized I was so—vindictive.”
Having said more than she had intended, Erika returned to the hall, leaving Kristen annoyed, yet thoughtful. One of them was lying, and, of course, it had to be Erika. But curse her eyes, how was it she could sound so very convincing—and innocent?
Kristen might have dismissed the subject entirely from her mind if Selig had not confronted her with it the next day in a direct complaint about his wife. Apparently Erika had not mentioned to him anything about the talk she and Kristen had had, yet was Erika still angry about it, enough for Selig to catch the brunt of it—without knowing why.
Storming out of his room, where he had been unable to get a single word out of his wife to explain her newest pique, he nearly collided with Kristen in the hallway and took his confusion out on her, demanding, “How can she hold a grudge so long for one little insult when I have already forgiven her for what she did to me, which was much worse?”
“Did you tell her that?” Kristen asked.
“What?”
“That you forgive her.”
The question annoyed him. “I have shown her. I asked her for a new beginning. Must I actually say the words when they are likely to be thrown back at me? She still hates me. She does not care that I no longer hate her.”
“When did that happen?”
“What?”
“Your no longer hating her.”
He waved a dismissive hand as they continued down to the hall. “What does it matter when?”
With a sigh, she led him straight to the ale barrels and, pouring them both a healthy draught, sat him down at the nearest table. “So tell me.”
His expression turned morose. “What is to tell? She will not talk to me now.”
Kristen couldn’t resist grinning. “Some husbands would consider that a boon.”
“Save your teasing for another time, Kris. I am in no mood for it.”
“I can see that. What I cannot see is how you two can be married and not discuss what you each find most important—except with other people.” And then she saw Erika come down the stairs and, noticing them, head in their direction. But instead of warning Selig, she asked deliberately, “Would it interest you to know that she does not recall laughing, at any time, while you were at Gronwood?”
He snorted. “I do not blame her for denying it. She is a woman, after all, and what woman does not try to deny shameful behavior?”
Erika had stopped upon hearing that, but Kristen was too disgusted by his remark to quit now. “With an attitude like that, ’tis no wonder she will not confront you about it. And yet it was her laughter that so infuriated you that you wanted revenge. So tell me again what you recall of it.”
He scowled at her. “I am trying to forget that. But I recall now what she claims was an insult, and it was no insult, or was not intended as such. I needed help. I wanted you there, but you were not. She was. My head ached. My sight was blurred. My thoughts would not stay with me. One moment I knew who she was and why I was chained to a wall, the next I did not. I told her I needed a bed, hers if she liked. I was not insulting her. ’Twas what women have always wanted of me, and I merely offered her the same. That was all I had to offer just then.”
Kristen did not expect the stricken look on her sister-in-law’s face, or to see her turn and run from the hall as if the damn rafters were about to fall on her. She felt rather contemptible for playing such a trick on them, no matter that she had hoped for a confrontation that would put an end to the lie, whichever one of them was responsible for it.
She decided not to mention what she had done to Selig. It was bad enough that Erika knew.
Chapter 43
ERIKA WOULD HAVE run through the gate to leave Wyndhurst, except the king’s entourage had just started arriving, and the passage was too crowded just then to get through. She moved back against the wall instead, out of the way. Leaning against the cold stones, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. She was so close to tears, it was all she could do to keep them from falling. Her guilt was back, and it was ripping her apart.
No insult intended—his way of paying for help. Did Selig really use himself like coin? Had women taught him to do that? Ah, sweet Freya, it was all a mistake; his fever and the head injury had made him act as he had. Why had she not seen it? Why couldn’t she have helped him, instead of losing her temper and hurting him more?
And why did he think she had laughed at his suffering? He really did think it. She recalled his words: I mean to see you never laugh again. She had thought, at the time, that that promise was significant, and so it was. Had that, too, been because of the fever? Had he imagined her laughter, and now thought what he remembered was real? Erika No Heart. He believed it, so how could he bear to touch her, thinking that of her? And with him believing it, how could she convince him it wasn’t true?
“You there.” She was startled from her thoughts. “Who is that Celt standing with King Alfred?”
The tone was imperious. So was the man’s expression. He was one of the king’s party, with two others by his side, all three of them waiting for her to answer. And there were now so many people, horses, and baggage wains in front of her, she had to go up on tiptoe to see whom he referred to.
But she should have known by the description of “Celt.” “My husband, Selig the Blessed, and only half Celtic. His other half is pure Viking.”
“You are both Danes?”
Revulsion, as if the word were the foulest curse. Erika was too numb to care.
“He is Norwegian,” she said, pushing herself away from the wall. “I am the only Dane here.”
She returned their rudeness with her own, walking away from them, but they were immediately forgotten. She had to get away from this crowd to decide what she should do. But with Selig in the bailey and apt to notice her wherever she went…She pushed her way through the gate after all.
Lord Durwyn watched her leave with narrowed eyes. “I do not like this,” he said, turning to one of the men with him. “Find Ogden and tell him to follow her. He can take one other with him, but they are not to lose her. Tell him Aldwin will bring word if they need do more than that.”
The first man slipped away to locate the three others who had entered Wyndhurst with Durwyn. Aldwin, who remained with him, asked, “What is it you suspect, my lord?”
“You did not recognize that black-haired Viking with Alfred? You should have, since we left him for dead last month. Ogden wears his sword even now.”
“One of the king’s delegates?” Aldwin gasped. “Nay—a twin mayhap?”
“When Alfred cut short his business in the west to return here, and there stands a man with him who should be dead? I think not.”
“Then we must leave—”
“Do not be a fool. If I am to be accused, I must know it. If I am, then it will be that Viking who will do it. So do not associate yourself with me or come near unless I bid you, for it will be up to you to take the woman and use her against him, to get him to withdraw his accusations. You know where to hide her?”
“Certainly.”
Durwyn nodded. “I have a feeling we will know one way or the other as soon as I show myself, so stay near enough to hear what transpires. You can judge for yourself if the woman needs be taken. You can do so, I trust?”
&
nbsp; “Aye.”
“Good. Then let us find out now.” Durwyn started to leave, but turned back to add one more thing, almost as if he had forgotten. “And, Aldwin, if I do not leave Wyndhurst by, say, late this afternoon, kill the wife.”
Durwyn made his way through the crowd then, not to approach the king, but to make himself visible. As he had guessed, both Alfred and the Viking moved toward him as soon as he was noticed by them. He was not worried, though. It would be his word against the other man’s, and the other man was a Viking. Who, after all, could trust the word of a Viking?
It went exactly as he had supposed it would, except that Lord Royce had to translate for the man, since he didn’t speak Saxon, and Durwyn didn’t bother to admit that he spoke Celtic. But this merely added to the confusion, and in his favor, so he was not displeased by it.
As Durwyn had expected, he was accused of the very crime he had committed. Of course he denied it. His feigned disbelief and then outrage were worthy of applause. And Alfred’s frown said clearly he didn’t know whom to believe. There was no proof, after all.
What he had not expected was for the hotheaded young man to backhand him, and before he could even get up from where the blow had landed him, he’d heard Royce explain, “You have called him a liar by your very denials, Lord Durwyn. For that he challenges you.”
“This is an outrage! I cannot be expected to fight a damned heathen—”
“’Tis my brother-in-law you speak of, so be careful what you call him, or my challenge will follow his. And frankly, my lord, I am inclined to believe him, particularly since I know you had good reason to keep a Dane from wedding the girl your son should have wed. You were a fool not to bring your objections to Alfred.”
“And I would have if I had even known such was in the offing. But I was not aware of it, I tell you! I knew naught of it until I but recently joined the court.”