"We were outside for the air," she whispered quickly to Selig as Royce approached them. "We only met on coming in." "Is he going to believe that?" "He will have to." But Royce did not ask any questions at all when he reached them. He simply grabbed Kristen's wrist and began to pull her toward the stairs, shouting over his shoulder at Selig: "Wait where you are." Kristen tried to yank her hand loose from his grip, succeeding once halfway up the stairs, but he caught her again and continued to drag her after him. "Curse you, Saxon, you had better have a good reason for handling me so!" He did not answer. He tossed her into his chamber and locked the door. She stared at it in amazement, tested it to be sure it was locked, then banged once on it in anger. "Oh!" In the hall below, Royce nodded to Selig to follow him, and he led him out to the front of the hall, shutting the door behind them. Selig turned, and Royce's fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him flat on his backside.
Royce stood over him, his face set in hard, angry lines. "I will not forbid you the hall, Gaelan, but I forbid you to go anywhere near that woman again. She belongs to me and I am careful of what is mine." With that Royce reentered the hall. He left the doors open. Selig could have followed him back inside. He did not. He sat there on the ground fingering his jaw, a slow grin turning his lips, then finishing in a chuckle. Upstairs, from the window that overlooked the front yard, Kristen had watched the whole exchange. Her hands had gripped the window ledge, until she heard that chuckle. She turned away, shaking her head, disgusted with all men in general.
Chapter Thirty-eight
A polished hand mirror sailed at his head when Royce opened the door to his chamber. A silver plate followed. He spotted Kristen across the room, digging through his coffer for something else to throw. "You must not be angry, or you would be throwing weapons instead." "Do not tempt me, Saxon!" He had kept her locked in his chamber the whole day. She had not eaten. She had spoken to no one. She had lost her temper long ago.
"Why have you confined me?" she demanded. "I woke this morn to find you gone. I went below to look for you and you were not there, either. I thought you had broken your word." "You lock me in here for what you thought I did?" she stormed. "But you know I did not break my word, nor will I! So why?" "What you were doing with the Celt is smother matter," he said harshly. "Is it?" she sneered. "And what am I supposed to have done with him?" " Tis what I want to know, Kristen." "Then you had best ask him, for I am too furious with you to tell you aught!" He closed the space between them in a few angry strides. Kristen joined her fists and raised them, daring him to take the last step. He stopped, glowering at her. "Tell me you have no interest in the man." "The devil take you!" "Tell me!" "I have no interest in him!" "Then what were you doing outside with him?" Kristen lowered her fists, her eyes widening. Incredulously, she asked, "Are you jealous, Saxon? Is that why you struck him?"
He glanced at the window, realizing how she would know that. But she could not have understood what he told the Celt. He looked back at her, frowning still. "What I am is possessive, Kristen. No other man will touch you while you belong to me." "And when you wed and I am gone from here, I will belong to you no more." He grabbed her arms and gave her a rough shaking. "You will not leave me, vixen, ever. Now tell me what you were doing with the Celt!" The anger had gone out of her with the realization that he really was jealous. Jealous of her. What an extraordinary concept that was.
She launched into a few white lies she hoped would appease him. "I did naught, Royce. I could not sleep, so I went for a walk and waited to watch the sunrise. When I noticed I was not alone in the yard, I came back inside. The man followed behind me. He said a few words to me at the door, but I did not understand him. I do not know what he was doing outside. You will have to ask him that. 'Twas probably no more than he was seeking fresh air, as I was." Less harshly, more as a grumble, he ordered, "I do not want you outside at night, Kristen." "You had not forbidden it, milord." "I do now." "Then the next time I cannot sleep, I will be sure to walk only in the hall so that I wake everyone," she replied sarcastically. He smiled at last. "You can wake me instead, and I will see you have something to do other than walking." She would have given him a wicked reply if a timid knock had not sounded on the door just then. Meghan peeked around the door after Royce's terse command to enter. "Alden said I should tell you anger breeds anger, and violence breeds misery. What does he mean by that, Royce?" Kristen burst into laughter, seeing Royce's look of surprise. "Oh, clever, that cousin of yours, milord. Did he think you meant to beat me, or that I would have clobbered you?" She laughed even harder when his green eyes stabbed her. "And he sends your sister... aye, he is very clever. Come in, sweetling. Your cousin Alden was just playing a silly prank to send you up here, but you are welcome." Meghan moved to Kristen's side, whispering, "I thought Royce was angry." "And you came anyway to deliver your message? How brave you really are." Royce made a snarling noise deep in his throat as looked away from them. Meghan's eyes rounded al ingly. Kristen could have kicked him for frightening child. "Pay no attention to him, Meghan. He growls like most men growl. It means naught." "Kristen..." Royce began wamingly, glancing sharply back at her. "Shush," she retorted. "I am giving your sister a valuable lesson. You see, sweetling, you do not have to be afraid of men when they are angry. What are they but a little bigger than you?" Meghan's eyes traveled up the length of Royce, and Kristen grinned. "Well, there are a few exceptions. But you take your brother here for an example. He was angry, and so was I. He shouted at me. I shouted back at him. And we both feel better for it now." "But he is still angry." Meghan hid her face in Kris-ten's side. "He is just being churlish, as men are wont to be. Of course, some anger runs much deeper and 'tis best to just stay out of the way of a man who is in a real rage. You will learn in time to judge the difference. But your brother... Have you ever seen him hurt a woman?" She gave a silent prayer the answer would be the correct one. It was not. "He had you whipped." "He did not know I was a woman then." "He had you chained and your feet bled." Kristen sighed. "Did I not tell you that was no more than a scratch, that I did not even feel it? And that was not his fault, sweetling. He had warned me to bind my ankles under the iron bands. 'Twas I who forgot to do it." "Then, nay," Meghan conceded. "He has hurt no woman." "Because he is a good, kind man beneath all his bluster. And if he would not hurt a woman, even in his anger, then he certainly would not hurt a child. And you can be even more certain he would not hurt his own sister. You, sweetling, could even get away with this." Kristen stepped over to Royce and kicked him solidly in the shin. "And he would do naught to you."
Royce stood still because Meghan had begun to giggle. He even wiped all emotion from his features while she still looked at him. "You really would not hurt me, Royce?" He smiled at her. "Nay, midget, never." She ran forward to hug his waist. Then she did the same to Kristen.
With a grin, Meghan said, "Thank you, Kristen," before she ran out of the room. "I thank you, too," Royce said from behind her. "I could never make her understand she should not fear me. But as for that kick, vixen..." His arm went around her waist to lift her off her feet. He carried her to the bed, where he maneuvered her face-down across his lap. "Royce, nay!" She could not believe he would. "I was only proving a point!" "You could have proved it another way, wench. And until the pain goes away on my shin, you will feel some yourself on your backside." Kristen ate her meal that night standing up. But she carried a secret smile on her lips. She might have gotten herself spanked for daring too much, but her Saxon had also made up for it afterward.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Kristen bemoaned the irony that Royce should offer to take her riding the next morning, when her backside was not up to it. She went anyway. How could she refuse when he gave her a horse to herself, when he suggested a race? Would she ever understand the man?
She lost the race, but enjoyed it anyway. It brought back carefree memories of racing Torden through field and forest. The horse she rode now was not as fine, but her companion made up for that.
Late in the morning, they stopped to water the horses from a rain-fed brook. The area was vibrant with summer colors, darkest greens and yellows and reds. The sky was clear for a change, the sun hot beyond the shade of the tree where Royce led her. He sat down, leaning his back against the trunk and motioning her to come to him. Kristen ignored him and sat down by his feet instead. She plucked a blade of grass to worry between her teeth. Her eyes were soft as she looked at him.
Royce sighed. She might have given him her all the other night, but she was back to denying her willingness again. If he did not force her into his arms, she would not come. "I thank you for the ride, milord." He shrugged off his generosity. "Thorolf was right. You are used to riding. You do it well." "I do many things well, but Thorolf would not know all of them." "Such as?" She stretched out her legs and put her hands back to lean on. Her thick tawny braid lay over her shoulder, the tail end fanned out on her lap. He watched the way the breeze stirred the ends. She was looking up at the sky when she replied. "Thorolf does not know I have skill with weapons. None of them know. But you do." " Tis something I wish I did not know," he grunted. Kristen grinned. "That is the attitude that has kept my secret, until I needed to use it." "Who among them taught you, then?" he ventured. "Surely not your father?" She shook her head. "Nay, most surely not him. My mother taught me." "Your—" He could not finish for the laughter. Kristen smiled tolerantly. "Laugh all you like, milord, but 'tis true." "Oh, I have no doubt." He chuckled still. "And what else would this warlike mother teach you?"
Now Kristen laughed. She pictured her beautiful, delicate mother in her mind. Warlike? God's teeth! There was no one who looked less warlike. "My mother might turn her nose at cooking and sewing, for she never acquired an enjoyment for such. But she is not warlike, milord. And she did teach me another valuable lesson. She taught me to feel no shame in wanting a man." Royce sobered instantly. She might as well have run her hands over his body. Those words had the same effect. "And you feel no shame?" "Nay." "And you want me, Kristen?" "Nay." His grin matched her own. "Liar. You admitted it once before. Why will you not do so again?" "I told you I would not and I will not." "You told me that in argument over your restrictions. You are no longer chained." "I beg to differ," she replied quietly, her humor gone. "You have me chained by my word now, which is just as effective. You could have simply asked me to stay. Instead you had to bargain again."
"God's breath! Do not try to tell me you would stay simply because I ask it." "You will never know, will you, Royce?" "Kristen—" He had started to lean forward, but the arrow, entering his shoulder, threw him back against the tree trunk. And it had enough force to exit his back and embed in the trunk. He tried to pull away. When he could not, a vision of the Danes' attack flashed through his mind, Rhona screaming for his help, and he unable to aid her because he was impaled to the wall.
His blood turned cold as he looked at Kristen jumping to her feet. "Take my horse and ride! Quickly!" She straddled his hips instead as another arrow struck the tree above their heads. Swiftly she broke off the end of the arrow close to his skin. "I will pull you loose, but you must help," she told him urgently. "Kristen, just go." His voice was urgent. "Please. You must get away from here." "Push!" She yanked so hard he did not have to help. He fell forward onto his knees. Blood began spreading on both sides of his tunic. She bit her lip, thinking she would have to get him to his feet now. He rose on his own. There was no weakening yet. And he was furious with her.
"If you do not get on that horse, woman, and ride for safety now—" "Only if you ride with me," she cut in, her tone more adamant than it had ever been. The opportunity was lost. Well-armed men began emerging from behind trees and shrubs. Kristen counted five that she could see. "Get behind me, Kristen," Royce ordered as he drew his sword. She gasped. "You cannot mean to fight them all, not with your wound!" "They will not take you, not while I live." "Very commendable," the voice sneered behind them, and Lord Eldred stepped out from behind the tree under which they stood. He had two more men with him. "But we will take her, and you too, I think." Eldred made a grab for Kristen. She twisted her way loose from him, but his two men were swift to help subdue her. A blade materialized at her throat and she stopped struggling. Eldred's smile was loathsome in its humor. "Now your sword, Royce, or you know what I will order done to her."
The sword dropped to the ground. Eldred gave sharp orders then to his men. Kristen flinched as her hands were gripped together in front of her and a rope was wrapped about them. She watched helplessly as the same was done to Royce. Eldred gloated as they were dragged to their horses. "I must thank you for coming my way, Royce, and for bringing her along. This is an unexpected pleasure, after I thought I would have to waste my time in your forest, waiting to find you alone. And now I have a double j prize." They rode north for the rest of the day. By eventide they came to their destination: a hall, much smaller thai Wyndhurst, but well fortified. Royce was still able to dismount by himself, but his legs were not so steady now. Kristen bit her lip to keep from crying, seeing the extent of the blood soaking his tunic. She assumed this was Eldred's manor, but she die not guess he was not lord here until Royce tried to reason with Eldred. "Your father—" "Will not help you." Eldred cut him short with a tinge of bitterness now in his tone. "He has gone to beg Alfred to reconsider and let me return to court. My father does not like me at home, you see. He says I impregnate all his slaves, and nine months after my coming, he has no one to serve him." And then he added with anger to his men, "Take him to the storeroom and chain him to the wall." "His wound—" Kristen began, but Eldred cut her off, too. "Will bleed, just as you will bleed when I am finished with you." Royce began to fight, hearing that, but one of the men rendered him unconscious with the hilt of his sword. Kristen had to watch as he was dragged away. And then she was prodded with the tip of a sword into the hall.
It was a slovenly place, built all of wood, and all on the one floor. The rushes she walked over were filthy. The servants she saw were frightened creatures, not even daring to look at her or the men who pushed her to the back of the hall. There she was shoved into a tiny, windowless chamber. The door was slammed shut behind her, leaving her in darkness. She did not bother to see if it was locked, hearing the wooden bar falling into place.
Laughter was also heard, from the other side as the men walked away. She had seen a bed before the door closed off the light. She made her way slowly toward it and sat down. She was not going to become hysterical. She had been through this before: captured, not knowing what would happen next. Only she had an idea what would happen next this time.
A shiver passed through her, thinking of Eldred. He hated Royce. He wanted to hurt him, to make him suffer, mayhap even... Oh, God, why else would he bring him here except to kill him, probably slowly? Hysteria began to rise.
Chapter Forty
.Kristen was able to hear Lord Eldred out in his hall. He was eating, drinking; he was celebrating. But as long as she could hear him, she could hope that nothing had been done to Royce yet, telling herself that Eldred, in his hate, would want to be there for whatever he ordered done to Royce, or want to do it himself.
Thinking that, she was able to calm herself, to plan. She had to get out of this room as soon as the door opened. She had to make her way to the storeroom where she had seen them taking Royce. She had to get him loose, then get their horses... God help her, how, with so many people about?
She made a search of the room with her hands, cursing the dark which made it take so long. But she had the time. No one came to interrupt her. But the room yielded nothing that she could use as a weapon. She had not really thought it would, but she had to be sure. That left only herself and her wits. She doubted Eldred would be easy to dupe, but he might be overcome, if he had imbibed too much, and if he were alone. When he did finally come, he was alone and had been drinking, but he did not seem drunk, not at all.
He carried a candle, which he set on an empty wall shelf after he closed the door. Kristen saw now that the
room was completely empty, except for the bed, but she saw it in the briefest glance, not daring to take her eyes from Eldred for too long. He had a look of anticipation about him. He even smiled at her as he faced her. His sword still hung from his belt. But now there was a short whip there also, made of numerous thin leather strips.
"What have you done to Royce?" It came out in a whisper, full of hope. "I have not seen him yet," Eldred told her casually. "I decided I would deal with you first, so I could then tell him all about it. Lord Alden seemed to think Royce has a care for you. We will see." "You mistake," she hastened to assure him. "He has a betrothed." "What has that to do with the wench he beds?" Kristen flinched at the insult. What, indeed? "Why do you hate him so?" "He is blessed. He can do no wrong—or so Alfred thinks, has always thought." "Envy?" Her eyes moved over him with contempt. "For petty envy you do this?" "What do you know of it?" he snapped. "You do not know what 'tis like to compete, to always be found lacking." "Nay, I do not. But I do know you cannot get away with this. Too many people saw that you brought us here." He laughed. "My people would not dare say aught against me. Unlike you, wench, they know their place." "They are your father's people," she taunted him. "He will find out."
He leaped at her, slapping her hard. Her face turned; her body did not budge. This gave Eldred a momentary surprise. He was used to women falling down from his powerful blows, and then cowering in fear. But this woman was of a size with him. And she did not cower. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but her eyes flashed with fury as she looked back at him. Eldred stepped back, somewhat unnerved. And this made him angry, that he should be leery of a woman. He pulled loose the whip from his belt. She would cower before he was done with her, by God—cower and beg.
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