"I wonder, if I hide under this table, will he notice me?"
Eda gave Kristen a sharp look. "What kind of question is that, wench?"
"A whimsical one," Kristen retorted as she plopped down on a stool.
After such heart-stopping suspense, she had a right to be irritable now, but that was not why she was. She did not like being blamed for something that was not of her doing, so in defense she was in the proper mood to face Royce's fury. She would rather avoid it. She did in fact wish there were someplace she could hide for a while, just until he calmed down. But there was not, not in his hall.
"You came back alone?" Eda broke into her thoughts. "Where is Lord Royce?"
Kristen waved a hand dismissively. "There was some minor trouble with his prisoners. He will be along directly."
He was, just then, and his eyes lit on her from across the hall. But apparently he was not ready to deal with her, for his look was only brief, and he crossed to his empty chair at the long table, not to her.
So, he would return to his drinking and entertainments, as if he had not just come close to losing his life. Why did that irritate her even more?
"Do I sleep with you again, Eda?"
"You know you do not. You saw Lord Averill and his family leave today."
"Aye, but I would prefer to sleep with you."
"Do you? When yestereve you grumbled because you had lost your soft bed?"
"I did not grumble!" Kristen snapped.
"Oh, ho, what has you in such a grouch?"
That did not deserve an answer. "Why did he come after me, Eda? I was not gone so long."
To that Eda shrugged. "He saw Uland come in and make his rounds with some story that had him excited. Milord sent Edrea to find out what. The fool boy thought it amazing that you should be greeted by those Vikings of yours like a long-lost sister, and that you would probably not have a bone uncrushed after being passed around and hugged by all those giants."
"That made him come after me?"
"Nay, he went on to eat. But I watched him." Eda chuckled here. "And he watched the door, waiting for your return. I suppose at last he decided you were gone too long."
And Kristen supposed that at that moment, Royce was not willing to let the King see his anger. But she had little doubt that she would feel it later. He would not let this incident pass unpunished, as he had her attempted escape.
She glanced his way, but could not see him, with Alden sitting this side of him and blocking him from her view. Alfred was on Royce's other side, and she could not see the King, either, from where she sat.
Edrea came next to Kristen, setting down a wooden tray on the table. All that remained on it were a few bread crumbs.
"They liked it, you know, your bread," Edrea said to her. "Milord even made comment on it, asking who had made it."
"Did you tell him?"
"Nay, I feared half the lords would spit it out, fearing you might be poisoning them."
Edrea's dark-brown eyes were twinkling. She had made a joke. Kristen could hardly believe it, let alone that the girl was actually talking to her of her own accord.
"The time to have told them would have been after they had eaten it," Kristen rejoined.
Edrea laughed outright now. "Uland was right. You are not so strange. Eda had said so, too, but then, Eda had taken a liking to you. That was strange."
Kristen grinned despite her bad humor. " 'Tis hard to know it, when the old woman is such a harridan." Her voice rose at the end so Eda would hear.
This got a snort from Eda, and an answering grin from Edrea. "Aye, Eda can be deceptive in her moods. Mayhap the Vikings are not so fearsome, either."
"His name is Bjarni," Kristen offered.
"Who?"
"The one who likes you."
The poor girl did not know how to hide her pleasure. Her pretty face lit up in wonder. "Did he say so?"
Kristen was not exactly in the mood to further Bjarni's and the others' cause at the moment, but at least talking to the girl was distracting. "He frets because he cannot tell you so himself. He is having Thorolf teach him your words, but do not be surprised when you hear them if you cannot understand, for Thorolf does not know your tongue too well himself."
For the next hour Edrea would not stop asking questions about the young Viking, and Kristen painted a glowing picture that would no doubt lead to disappointment in the end, for Bjarni was not the paragon of virtue she made him out to be. He was a man to be enjoyed, not taken seriously. But if Edrea was foolish enough to believe anything he would tell her in order to enlist her aid in an escape, then Kristen could not pity her.
Her friends and their freedom came before the feelings of one Saxon girl. If Kristen could get to Lyman and that key, she would do it herself. But already she was to be installed back in the lord's chamber.
"You sit there doing nary a bit of work," Eda came over to grumble at Kristen when Edrea was called away to refill some ale horns. "You might as well go on to bed, so you can have an early start on the morrow. Lady Darrelle has herself requested more of your nut bread. She thinks 'tis a recipe I have kept to myself all these years."
"And of course you let her think so."
"Of course." Eda chuckled. "And what were you and Edrea bending heads about?"
"She likes one of the prisoners."
This brought a sharply raised brow. "I hope you told her naught could come of that."
"And why not? They are men, just as Royce is. Surely he is not so cruel that he will not eventually supply them with women to satisfy their natural needs. Otherwise frustrations will ferment. Trouble will follow. 'Tis only sensible—"
"God save us!" Eda cut her short in amazement. "First you bring them food. Now you want to bring them whores. Get you to bed, wench, before you get the idea next that they should be allowed to marry and settle here."
"Now that you mention it . . ."
Kristen rushed away before Eda could have the last word. She carried a grin on her lips until she reached the top of the stairs. Then teasing Eda was forgotten as she spied the door down at the end of the corridor. She sighed, making her way slowly toward it, wondering how long she would have before Royce came up to join her.
She had not even half a minute. He must have left the hall the moment she did. She was standing by the table, her back to the door. She had meant to strip off her clothes and make use of the water there. She had not even untied her girdle when the door opened.
"What happened with the prisoners, Kristen?"
She swung around, aqua eyes wide as she looked at Alden, not Royce. It took her a moment to adjust to this surprise; then she glanced toward the weapons on the wall.
"Nay," he said, reading her mind. "Hear what I have to say first before you try to slit my throat again. I know my cousin. When he is angry, he shouts, he blusters, he knocks heads together. When he is furious, he is deadly calm, and God help the unfortunate soul who shatters that calm. He is furious now. What happened to cause it?"
"Why do you not ask him?"
"Ask him?" Alden shuddered, and Kristen wondered whether it was feigned or real. "When he is like this, I do not want to be anywhere near him."
"And I do not want to be near you, Saxon. You need not fear I will attack you. I gave my word to your cousin that as long as your King is here, I will stay away from you."
A half smile formed on his lips. "You mean 'tis actually safe for me to get close to you?"
"I would not suggest it," she returned darkly.
"Will you at least tell me what happened? Mayhap I can then know how to temper some of his fury."
She shrugged offhandedly, yet her words belied her indifference. "He behaved like a brainless fool. He came in among the prisoners to take me from their quarters." Her voice began to rise, her irritation returning. "Thorolf detained me, but instead of Royce seeing the wisdom of leaving then, for I would have too if he did, he came in to get me. 'Twas the most stupid, arrogant thing he could have done. 'Twas just what they hoped he would do!"
"And yet naught happened."
Kristen's expression mirrored her disgust. "That is not the point. He turned it around so he had the upper hand. He could just as easily have found himself at their mercy."
"And that displeases you?"
She glared at him. "I told you what you wanted to know. Now leave me."
He nodded, but before he turned to go, he added, "A word of warning, wench. Do not say to him what you have said to me. I do not think he will tolerate being called a brainless fool at this time."
He opened the door to leave, and there stood Royce. Alden groaned inwardly, offering a silent prayer that Royce had not heard anything that was said. Kristen schooled her own features, seeing that Alden had been right. Royce looked calm enough on the outside, but that was only at first glance. A closer look revealed the tight set of his lips, the dangerous gleam in his eyes.
"What do you here, Cousin?"
Alden said in jest, "Helping the wench prepare for the siege."
Royce was not amused. " 'Tis an unwise habit you have developed, helping her. 'Twill eventually get you a blade in your back. Leave us."
It was said most softly, but Kristen recognized the underlying menace. She turned her back with the closing of the door, worrying at her lower lip. Only once had she seen Royce like this before: the first time she saw him. He had spoken cold-bloodedly then of killing them all. This time? She was not so much afraid, sure that he would not kill her. What she felt was the apprehension of facing the unknown.
"I am forced to wonder now, if everything you say and do is not a lie."
Kristen stiffened. God help her, she certainly could not help herself if she could not understand him. What had that casually uttered remark to do with what had happened?
"I must assume you have a reason for saying that, milord. Do you tell me, or do I guess?"
He came up behind her while she spoke, which was why she did not hear him, and why she gasped when his fingers bit into her shoulder to turn her around. But her expression was stony now that she looked into his dark eyes. She would not be played with, like cat and mouse.
"Make your accusation and have done with it!" Kristen snapped.
"He is more than a friend to you, your Thorolf."
"You say that because I let him detain me?" she asked incredulously. "Aye, I let him, because I did not think you could be so foolish as to fall for his ploy."
"Who was the fool?"
Her eyes flew open. "You knew! You knew what he would do and yet you still came in! You are mad!"
He held both shoulders now and shook her. "What I am is without patience. Do you love him?"
That she could knock his hands away, as tight as they held her, attested to her own loss of patience. "Another question that has naught to do with what happened! Of course I love him. He is like a brother to me. Now you tell me what that has to do with aught! You put yourself at their mercy. Thorolf said they would not kill you, but you could not know that. You had only to return to the hall, Saxon, and I would have followed on my own."
"Did I know that?"
It dawned on her that he was shouting now, that he was no longer furious—just angry, if Alden could be believed. Which statement of hers had appeased him enough to bring about the change? she wondered.
She lowered her own voice. "Common sense would have told you. Outside that room, you held control. You could have forced me out in any number of ways. I knew that. 'Twas not my intention to stay," she even admitted. "I did not mean to stay as long as I did, but it had been so long since I had talked to them."
"Or touched them—him! I have eyes, wench. You were practically on top of him!"
"Oh, unfair!" she cried. "I sat next to him. He held my hand. How could you read more into that than there was? I told you long ago I was raised to be unafraid to show my affections. 'Tis natural for me to touch someone I love."
"Then touch me, Kristen."
Those words hit her like thunder, slamming through her with an electrical charge. Of a sudden, his expression was fraught with desire, not anger, and it touched a like response in Kristen. She was already emotionally stimulated. His look simply redirected that emotion, focused it on her senses, which were screaming to throw herself into his arms.
She almost did. She almost took the step that would meld their bodies together. It took every last bit of will she possessed not to. God help her, if he had only said it differently, if love were not the issue . . .
"Kristen?"
"Nay!" The word tore out of her, as much for herself as for him. "I do not love you!"
The denial was too emphatic, she knew. It was no wonder he ignored it, taking the step she wanted to take, bringing her up hard against his body. Another thunderclap, pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest, and lips that were a balm for the fever spreading through her. Scorching, insistent, he forced his mouth over hers, drawing passion from her soul.
He bent forward, holding her so that her body curved into his, tightly, while his lips burned toward her ear. "I concede, Kristen. Touch me not because you love me, but because I need you. Touch me!"
It was the groan that did it, coming from deep within him as if he were in mortal pain. Her heart could not resist that entreaty. Her body had already lost the battle. Her hands cupped his face, forcing him to look at her, and his look was more potent than any caress.
Aye, my Saxon, I will touch you. I will touch you until I reach your heart. She did not say it aloud, but it was in her eyes for him to see: her own need, her desire—her love. But she kissed his eyes closed, not wanting him to discern too much. And then she brought his lips back to hers and proceeded to drive him wild with what he had asked for. She touched him to her heart's content.