Hearts Aflame (20 page)

He felt a peculiar excitement in being able to look at her like this without her knowing. She was the first woman to ever share his bed for a whole night, the first
he had ever watched sleeping. The serfs that he favored he usually took where he found them. The few he had brought to his bed left as soon as he was done with them. Corliss he left himself, having no desire to spend a whole night in her bed. It was the same with the ladies of the court whom he had known intimately.

Why didn’t he mind sharing his bed with this Viking wench for other than making love to her? Mind? Nay, he liked having her next to him in sleep. But why her? He still despised her for who she was. Or did he? She and her kind had done him the worst wrong possible. She was a woman, but she had still been raised with the same beliefs as the men who had come here to rob and kill his people. She was a Viking, a heathen, an abomination to all God-fearing Christians.

If he did not still despise her, he should. He should also have resisted more successfully his attraction to her. He was disgusted with himself for this weakness she had made him see in himself, and more so now that she had proved her will was stronger than his. She wanted him still. Last eve in this room had proved that. Yet she denied him all week, and would have continued to do so if he had not forced her to submit.

Royce made a disgusted sound with his tongue. Castigating himself now served no purpose. The damage was done, and he was not ready to put it behind him. Giving in once to his desire for her had not been enough. He still wanted her. And to resist her now would be like cutting off the hand after the fingers had been severed, causing more pain for no good reason. Even at this moment he wanted her. The only reason he did not wake her was the knowledge that he would have her later.

It was a heady feeling knowing that this particular woman was in his power. A captured slave had even fewer rights than those Britons born to slavery, or than
penal slaves, who were free men enslaved as punishment for certain crimes or because they could not pay the fines and compensations they had incurred. The church gave stiff penalties for the mistreatment of these Christian slaves. Those enslaved for crimes could even be redeemed by their kindred after a year. Those born to slavery could buy their freedom. They were also allowed to sell the products of their toil in their free time. But enemy slaves were a different matter. They could be ransomed or not, sold or not, killed or not. The decision belonged solely to their owners.

This made Kristen his for the taking, and only his, as surely as if she belonged to him as wife. He could have her anytime, anyplace, and she had not the right to deny him. But there was an added pleasure in knowing that she did not despise his desire, that she enjoyed his body as much as he did hers.

If he kept pursuing thoughts like these, he would be waking her after all. As it was, he could not resist touching her before he left the bed, inserting his hand between her breasts that were squeezed together to cup one gently in the palm of his hand. Kristen smiled in her sleep. Royce smiled seeing it.

Damned if she couldn’t make him feel good inside in so many different ways. He wondered if she knew what a rare woman she was in her joy of the senses. He knew no other who could be aroused to such passion—and so easily, too.

It was going to be a wonderful day, he decided as he dressed and went below. Not even the prospect of trouble with the prisoners could daunt his good mood this mom.

He found them in the yard, herded together in front of the shelter that had been built for them, Waite having held them back from working until Royce came. He dismissed them into Lyman’s charge, keeping only Thorolf
back. The younger man was definitely disturbed about something, and Royce surmised from the look he received when he nodded Thorolf back into the hut where they could talk in private, that it had something to do with himself.

“I am told you fought amongst yourselves this morn, Thorolf. Do you wish to tell me why?”

Thorolf rattled his chain as he moved about in his agitation. “That?” He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “’Twas naught. Bjarni anger Ohthere with jesting.” Here he became still and met Royce’s eyes, his own narrowing. “Concern you and Kristen.”

Royce digested that thoughtfully, doubting he would learn exactly what was said. “Do I take it you took exception to Bjarni’s jest, too?”

“Aye. Too long Kristen leave us. I need speak to her…please.”

Royce stiffened, knowing what it must have cost this brawny Viking to say that word. He became suspicious of his motive. This was the man he had watched so often protecting Kristen when she was still thought to be a lad. He claimed to be only a friend. But was that the truth?

“How long have you known Kristen, Thorolf?”

“Always. Neighbors at home. When children, swim, ride, hunt together. My sister Tyra and Kristen close, very close.”

“So she is your sister’s friend, yet you seem to have made yourself responsible for her. Why is that?” Thorolf remained mute to that question. Royce walked around him until he stood at the Viking’s back. “Is it because her brother is dead, or does she mean more to you than just a friend?”

Thorolf turned around to face him. “Speak slower, Saxon. Or, better, bring Kristen speak for you.”

“Oh, clever,” Royce sneered, “but I think not. She is
well settled in the hall and does not need to be reminded of your plight. She can tell you naught that I cannot tell you. She is well and not overburdened. So you see, you have no reason to worry about her.”

“So you say. Need hear her say.”

Royce shook his head to that. “If this is all you wanted to speak to me about…” He began to walk toward the door.

“Saxon!” Thorolf called angrily. “No touch Kristen.”

Royce turned back incredulously. “Are you actually telling me to keep my hands off her?”

“Aye.”

He began to laugh. “What arrogance! Mayhap you have not noticed, but you are in no position to make demands.”

“Will you marry her?”

“Oh, enough, Viking,” Royce said impatiently. “She has been enslaved, not made a guest. What happens to her depends on you and your comrades, as I said before. She has not been harmed, nor forced to do aught she is not willing to do.”

“Then you no touch yet?”

This time Royce did not answer. Thorolf drew his own conclusions, which detonated his Norse temper. Royce was not prepared for the attack, but then, he had not thought a smaller, less muscular man would dare. Suddenly he found himself tackled to the floor, his throat enclosed by a pair of hands that were deadly serious. His breath was completely cut off until the point of his dagger slipped an inch into Thorolf’s side.

“Ease off, slowly,” Royce commanded him.

He did, then stood up and backed away, holding a hand to his bleeding side. He was still angry, more so now because he had failed. Royce was angry now as well.

“What did you hope to accomplish by that bit of foolishness?” he demanded.

“So you no touch Kristen again.”

“By killing me? Aye, that would have done it, but then you would not be around to gloat over it.”

“No kill,” Thorolf insisted. “Other ways to make you no touch again, ever.”

Royce frowned until Thorolf made a sharp twisting motion with his hand. Then he grunted. “Aye, so there are. I will have to remember to keep you at arm’s length from now on, since I like all my parts just the way they are.” And then he shook his head as he got to his feet. “Young fool. Did you disbelieve me when I said Kristen had not been forced? She has no complaints residing inside the hall, other than for the chains she wears.”

Thorolf glared at him. “You lie! Many want Kristen.
Many
,” he emphasized. “She refuse all.”

“Truly? Then I suppose I should count myself lucky,” Royce remarked dryly.

“If you say true, Saxon, then must marry.”

Royce sighed at such doggedness. “I have a betrothed already, Thorolf, but even if I did not, I would not marry a heathen, nor a Viking, nor a slave, of which Kristen is all three. She already belongs to me. Give me one reason why I would want to marry the wench, and make it a reason that applies to me, not your impartiality.”

“Bjarni no jest. Kristen like what see in you. So be it. But no marry, no like for long. She choose you, Saxon. Make right or lose.”

“I cannot lose what I own,” Royce said confidently and left before he became annoyed with the Viking’s logic.

Thorolf moved to the doorway to watch the Saxon lord cross the yard back to the hall. Waite stepped up to escort him to the wall, but he didn’t spare a glance for
the guard. So Bjarni was right after all. He had said he had observed Kristen watching this lord when she was still with them, and had never seen a woman more entranced.

If she had indeed finally made her choice, it was the wrong choice. And kept apart from them as she was, she had no friend to tell her so. The Saxon would never honor her. He was a man of power, she a captured slave. As a free man with several slaves in his own household, Thorolf could understand the lord’s reasoning. But then, Kristen was not a slave born. If and when she chose to resist her bondage, she would do so wholeheartedly.

He wondered why he had bothered to warn the Saxon how it would be with her. She was a Christian, though she obviously had not revealed that fact to these people. But she was a Norsewoman, too, with Norse pride and determination instilled in her. It might be better if she were more malleable instead, for Thorolf knew that it would not go easy for her if she did turn against her captor.

Chapter Twenty-two

K
risten uncoiled her long frame and stretched luxuriously. She grinned at the little bird perched on the window ledge whose song had woken her. It flew away when she sat up.

She was alone. She wondered if the door was locked and got up to test it. It was not. She grinned again, closing it. Aye, the changes had already begun. Royce was going to try trusting her. She would have to be careful not to disappoint him.

Her clothes and his as well still lay where he had dropped them last eve. She dressed quickly, then proceeded to set the room to rights. She felt like singing and did, a simple Celtic verse her mother had taught her as a child.

“So you know another tongue besides ours, do you?”

Kristen glanced up from smoothing the bedcovers to see Eda standing in the doorway. She smiled a greeting. “Aye, many.”

“Well, do not let Lord Royce hear you speak that one, for most Celts are enemies of ours.”

“Most?”

“Some live in Wessex side by side with Saxon, in Devon, and some even as close as Dorset. But those on the far west coast have always been our enemies, have even sided with the Danes against us.”

“What of the Celtic Welsh to the northwest?” Kristen asked, thinking of her mother.

“Enemies also, though they are too far away to cause
us grief. It has been many years since they attacked Mercia in force and King Ethelwulf, Alfred’s father, was asked for aid against them. He led his army north and wrung promise of tribute from the Welsh. But the western Celts, they raid us still. Just two days ago a small band made off with some of our cattle. Lord Royce retrieved the animals, but though he and his men chased the thieves through the night, they still eluded him. So he would not like hearing that tongue from your lips now, and he knows it well enough to recognize it.”

Kristen smiled, then could not stop the giggle that followed. So that was why Royce had not come to her room the other night. She had been miserable thinking he had sought out another woman, while he was actually out chasing thieves.

“Your humor is not meet, wench,” the old woman scolded.

“You would not understand, Eda,” Kristen said. Then she added, “But I am sorry Royce did not catch the thieves. I had not known the Celts were your enemies.”

Eda grunted. “There are others, too, even a few Saxons milord counts as his foes, and one in particular who lives not far from here. Lord Eldred would like naught better than to see milord dead. They have been at odds since they both lived at court.”

“Do you know why?”

“Aye. Lord Eldred resented the closeness between Alfred and milord. This was before Alfred became King, when they would all hunt and sport together on the royal manors. Most younger sons live at court. Milord did until his father and brother died. Now he goes only rarely, or when Alfred summons him. ’Tis only the threat of the Danes that has made them put aside their animosity for a time.”

“A wise decision. I would not like to think of Royce fighting with an enemy at his back too.”

“Do you care so much? Most lords set their slaves free at their death, as encouraged by the church.”

“I want my freedom, Eda, but not in that way,” Kristen snapped.

Eda snorted half in disbelief, half pleased with that answer. “Well, come along. Milord said to let you sleep, but naught about dallying the whole day away. You have missed one meal already.”

Kristen grinned and started for the door. Eda spotted the shackles she had thrown into the corner earlier and started for them. Kristen stopped her.

“Leave it, Eda. I am done with that.”

“Did he say so?”

“Nay, but—”

Eda ignored her and picked up the chain. “Until I am told otherwise, you wear this still.”

“Nay, I tell you he will not make me wear it now. Go and ask him.”

“Are you daft, wench? I would not dare to approach him over something so minor.” Kristen’s expression turned forbidding, but Eda held up a hand to forestall her tirade. “Give me no trouble on this, Kristen. If he is willing to trust you now, then he will tell me. Can you not wait until then?”

Nay
, she wanted to scream, but to what purpose? In a few minutes—or at the most a few hours, if Royce was not in the hall—she would see him and would correct his forgetfulness. She could in fact wait, though she didn’t like it at all.

It was more than just a few hours, however, before she saw him, for he was gone the whole day. Eda learned from Meghan’s maid, Udele, that he had taken the child riding. Meghan returned to the hall in the early afternoon, full of excitement and rosy cheeked, but Royce was not with her. Eda remarked that it was rare
when Royce found the time to amuse his sister. From the look of Meghan, she enjoyed it.