O ne torch sputtered out, leaving only the one by the stairs still burning. The noises in the hall were sporadic: loud and soft snoring, a cough, a few grunts and groans. Eda was one of those snoring softly.
She had led Kristen to the spot that was hers by the cold hearth, a coveted place, as it was cool in summer but warm in winter. There was no pallet for Kristen, all the extra ones already in use by the guests. A thin blanket and the hard floor made her bed, the discomfort of it helping to keep her awake. But she would not have fallen asleep tonight anyway.
Kristen sat up slowly and looked around her. Only a few women slept nearby, but not close enough that she might disturb them. She had waited only until Eda fell asleep. She would have liked to wait a little longer on the chance that someone else could still be awake, but she could not afford to waste that much time.
She was leaving. The decision had been easy, for this was the only chance she was likely to have. She had asked Royce last eve how long his King would stay. It was the only thing she said to him after he made love to her, and he had been unable to give her an answer. It could be on the morrow, or a week from now, but when Alfred did leave, Kristen would be fettered again. She was also likely to be ensconced back in Royce's chamber, and it would be harder and much more risky to try to leave his side, if he even left the door unlocked, than it would be to slip out of this crowded hall.
Here, the windows were left open, and there was only a slight jump to reach the ground outside. And she had plenty of time to get far away before the morn when she would be missed.
The decision had indeed been easy. Kristen just hadn't counted on the heavy feeling of gloom that accompanied it. Even though she knew she had no hopes here, she still felt heartsick in thinking she would never see Royce again.
She glanced one last time at Eda, who lay on her back in weary slumber. She would miss this old woman, too, with her crankiness and her gruff concern. And little Meghan, whose curiosity and silent appeal for friendship had managed to make Kristen forget her troubles for a while today.
However, these thoughts did not stop Kristen from making her way toward the window next to the cooking area. No call rang out as she eased her legs over to sit on the ledge. But it was a mark of her dejection that she hesitated for several long moments. And at last it was pride that gave her the final push.
A nearly full moon bathed the yard on this side of the hall. Kristen landed on her feet and jumped back immediately to the shadows by the wall. Cautiously, she worked her way behind the hall and over to the side where the stable was, and the storehouse, and the hut that housed her cousin and the others.
She had not seen their shelter herself since it had been finished, but knew it was only a narrow, windowless room. How miserable it must be to sleep there after the stout door was locked at night. But no more miserable than sleeping out in the rain as they had done before that.
She wished it were raining tonight, to hinder visibility and help conceal the sound of her movements. But there were only a few clouds above, and these were not even near the overly bright moon. This would not deter her, though. Everyone was indoors, sleeping. There was no one to see her.
From the back of the stable, she could hear the soft nicker of one of the horses, reminding her that horses would be needed. But none of these. The large wooden gate was closed and locked at night, and no doubt a guard set to watch. Even if there was no guard, taking any of the stabled horses would make too much noise. This was no problem, though, for she knew that most of Royce's horses had been taken to pasture. She would just have to find the pasture.
The problem she did face was coming around the prisoners hut and seeing a guard sitting in front of the only door. She ducked back behind the side of the building, her heart racing. Had he heard her footsteps? Had he seen her? But she heard no movement from him, and after a short time more she found the courage to peek around the corner.
The man was still sitting there, his back against the door, his head leaning back, too, and bent to the side. She let out the breath she had been holding, realizing he was asleep. This was something she had not counted on, for the door was locked, a guard not needed. But this was minor in comparison to the problem she had known she would face: getting that locked door open. Then again, this would be a blessing if the guard held the key to the heavy lock.
Kristen moved back behind the building to look for a stone large enough to render the fellow unconscious. She could have swiped his dagger while he slept and killed him instead, but couldn't bring herself to do that. Unfortunately, there were no stones about the yard that were big enough, and she finally had to work her way over to where the rock wall was being built. There, it took a while to find a stone that wasn't too big. She did find one eventually, and she did make her way back to the guard without incident.
Her pulse accelerated as she approached him. If he made a sound when she struck, she would be done for. If she struck too hard . . . God help her, she didn't want to really hurt him, just put him into a deeper sleep.
The stone hit near his temple and the man sagged to the side. He breathed. That was enough to satisfy Kristen's conscience for now, and she made fast work of searching his body for the key. Her luck did not extend that far. She would have to waste more time trying to pry the lock loose. But at least this unexpected guard provided the dagger to work with.
She went quickly to the task, calling in an urgent voice that did not carry far, "Ohthere. Thor—"
A large hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her, while another gripped the wrist that held the dagger. "Drop it. Do it now."
She did, feeling a strange mixture of dread and joy as she recognized that voice. He let go of her wrist as soon as the dagger clattered to the ground, his hand then going round her waist. It was not a tight hold he had on her, but she knew it could be if she struggled.
And then she felt nothing but regret, hearing Thorolf on the other side of the still-locked door. He had heard her soft call. He thought she was there to help them escape.
"Kristen? Kristen, answer. Tell me I was not dreaming."
"What does he say?" Royce whispered by her ear.
"He knows 'tis me."
"Then tell him what has happened."
She swallowed hard. What had happened? How? She had got this far. No cry of alarm was raised. Yet she was stopped, and by the one man here whom she would not turn around and fight in earnest. If it were anyone else . . .
"Thorolf, I am sorry. I nearly succeeded, but the Saxon lord has found me out. He is here."
There was a long silence from behind the door, and then: "You should not have come for us, Kristen. You should have flown while you were able."
"That matters not now."
"What will he do to you?"
How could she answer that? She said to Royce, "He wants to know what you will do to me."
"What would have happened if you had succeeded in opening that door?"
His voice was so frightfully calm. God's teeth! Why wasn't he shouting at her? He had to be furious. She hadn't looked at him yet to see for herself, but he must be. But if he could hide his fury, then she could hide her fear.
With equal calm, she said, "If I had opened the door, we would have run for yonder fence and been gone from here."
"After the slaughter?"
"You jest, milord. They are sixteen men. You have a like number of warlords in your hall at the moment, and your retainers, and their retainers as well. You have a well-trained army. Vikings are bold, milord, but not stupid."
"Then tell him naught will be done to you, because all you did was render punishment of a guard who was deserving of it for sleeping at his duty."
She could not believe he said that. More to the point, she could not believe he meant it. He would do something. He had to. She was a slave who had tried to escape and had tried to help others escape as well. But she did not want Thorolf to know that, any more than Royce did.
She explained quickly, but Thorolf was as doubtful as she. "He does not believe you, milord."
"Then tell him you will bring their food to them on the morrow, and at that time you can report to him exactly what I have done to you."
A shiver passed down her spine. She repeated his words to Thorolf, and that seemed to satisfy him, which was well, for Royce was done with talking. He led her away, his arm still firm about her waist. Her fear was increasing. How ominous that had sounded: exactly what I have done to you. She was about to reconsider her option of fighting him when he stopped.
They were before the stable. He brought her around until she stood in front of him, facing him. Both arms were about her waist now, but he did not press her close. His head tilted back, his gaze taking in the clear, bright sky, the glory of the near-full moon. She heard him sigh.
"I offered the other night to take you to the lake where you can bathe," he said quietly. "Would you like to go there now?"
"So you can drown me?"
He glanced back down at her, the barest trace of a smile forming on his lips. "You did not believe what I said back there?"
"I tried to escape. You stopped me, but I still tried. What does your law demand of that?"
"You are an enslaved prisoner, not a Briton. The laws have more leeway concerning prisoners. But the law is not involved here, for no one knows what you did but I."
"And the guard."
"The man will think he dreamed that bump on his head. Mayhap he will not sleep again on duty."
Her eyes widened. "You are sincere. You really will do naught to me?"
"The wolf will chew off his paw to be released from the trap. He escapes, but at great cost. Had you escaped with the others, make no mistake, I would have found you. Your friends would have fought and there would have been bloodshed. That would be punishment enough for you. But you did not succeed. And as I can understand the wolf, I can understand also the will that drives you. You want your freedom. I cannot punish you for that. But I cannot let you go, either."
"You could," she said stonily. "The others build your wall. What they do is necessary to Wyndhurst. But what I do in the hall is of little import. You have no reason to keep me here."
"You are necessary to me, Kristen!"
The force of those words silenced her. He meant it, and it thrilled her to know it. But she was a fool no more. She would not take those words to heart. He was simply obsessed with her, for he had never known anyone like her. But in time the obsession would wear thin and he would need her no more—probably when he had his lady to wife. Mayhap then she could convince him to let her go.
In the meantime, God help her, she would have to go on suffering and wanting and praying she could retain a measure of her pride. It would not be easy.
Royce pulled her closer and felt her stiffen. "You still doubt me?"
"Nay, but for you to take me to the lake, after what I did . . . 'tis like you reward me for defying you. You confuse me, Saxon."
He laughed, and did draw her closer. "I am glad to hear it. I have been alone in confusion so long, 'tis a pleasure to have company now. Nay, do not be piqued with me," he said as she tried to pull back. "I will appease your confusion, which is more than you do for me."
"Well?" she prompted when she saw his humor leave, his expression turning serious again.
"I simply choose to forget what you did. I came down to the hall to take you to the lake. When I found you gone—" He would not tell her what he had felt. He never wanted to feel that way again.
He gathered her tight against him, pressing his cheek against hers before he continued. "No harm was done, Kristen. I can overlook the intention and hope that you now see 'tis useless for you to try to leave here. I will always second-guess you."
She gasped. "You knew! That is why there was a guard."
"And a wrong choice of guards," he grunted. "But I did not know. I just do not take chances where you are concerned."
Intuition told her he wouldn't, either, that he would be this cautious of her as long as he still wanted her. She really did have no hope of escaping this place, not until he found his pleasure elsewhere.
"When do you marry, milord?"
She knew the question surprised him. She felt him tense. He would not be able to reason what this had to do with what they were discussing.
"What are you thinking, wench?"
"Does it not concern me?"
"Nay, it does not."
"But I am curious, milord."
"I think you are more cunning than curious. Do you try to anger me?"
Now Kristen was surprised. "Why would you think so? 'Twas a very simple question, milord, that does in fact concern me. When your lady wife lives here, there will be changes. She will share your chamber, not I."
If she thought to appease him, she failed. "And you look forward to that!" he stormed. "Well, I must disappoint you, for 'twill not be soon. The time for the wedding has yet to be discussed."
Without thinking, Kristen replied from the heart, "In truth, that does not disappoint me."
Those few words did manage to appease Royce, completely. Kristen wished she could take them back when she heard him chuckle. She had not meant to let him know she still desired him. Now she was annoyed, by her loose tongue, and how it had returned him to good humor.
And she blundered further by letting him hear her annoyance when she snapped, "Your amusement is misplaced. Your betrothed can have—"
"Shush. Say no more of her," he warned. Then, softly: "I still do not wish to return to my chamber, where Averill makes noises in his sleep like a lion. Do you come with me to the lake?"
Oh, unfair, to use that against her now! But she was not so angry that she would spite herself.
She made her tone conciliatory. "Aye, I would like to come with you."
His own voice deepened to a husky pitch. "And will you let me make love to you there?"
Kristen gasped. "You said naught of conditions!"
Royce chuckled. "Then I will just have to take my chances."