K risten 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 prize."
They rode north for the rest of the day. By eventide they came to their destination: a hall, much smaller than 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 did 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.