T he work was done for the day, and Kristen was ready to drop gratefully onto her pallet. The sweltering heat had worn her ragged today, and there had been the added warmth of the hearth, near which she was chained, and no breeze to take some of its heat away.
She could have kissed Eda when she bent down to remove the new chain that Kristen was made to wear now, but she restrained herself. Eda was still sulking over Kristen's sharpness with her the other day. Kristen had apologized later that same day, but it had not gone far toward appeasing the older woman. And her sulking added to Kristen's burden, for Eda was the only one she felt free to talk to. With the old woman's cold silence, Kristen's day was dreary indeed.
Eda led Kristen away, but not to the stairs to retire. She was told curtly that she was to have a bath. As tired as she was, Kristen could not complain about that. It would be only her second bath since she was brought into the hall. She knew Darrelle bathed often through the week, as did Royce, but the servants rarely. As accustomed to cleanliness as she was herself, the small container of water she was given daily to sponge herself with was just not adequate.
Simply the thought of being completely clean again perked up her spirits. Yet she was not to have a leisurely bath, for other servants were waiting to make use of the same water. She was first into the tub, however, which made all the difference. The water was warm this time, and clean, and only Eda remained in the small room with her.
While Kristen bathed and quickly washed her hair, Eda scrubbed her only set of clothes. She was given a tentlike robe of coarse, thin wool to wear for the night, while her clothes dried. It was simply a long rectangle of gray cloth, with a circle cut out in the center for her head to slip through. Wrapped around her sides and belted, it sufficed, though typically it fell short on her. But she was naked underneath, and felt naked underneath. The only reason she didn't balk at wearing a garment without sewn side seams was that she was going straight to her chamber.
But Kristen was not going straight to her chamber as she had supposed. Upstairs, Eda pushed her past her door near the stairs and did not stop until the end of the corridor was reached, where the lord's chamber was. Kristen backed away warily.
"Why?" she demanded as Eda knocked on the door.
Eda did not bother to look at her, but Kristen saw her shrug. "I do what I am told. The reasons are not explained to me."
"He said he wanted to see me?"
"He told me to bring you here. And here you are."
Eda opened the door and waited for Kristen to enter. Kristen hesitated, but only for a moment. She was not afraid, but she couldn't think of a reason why she would be brought here at night. If Royce wanted to question her again, he would have done so during the day, wouldn't he?
She stepped into the room, habit making her take small steps, even though Eda had not put her shackles back on after the bath. As the last time she was brought here after her bath, Eda carried the shackles, and as the last time, she placed them on Royce's table and then left the room, closing the door behind her.
He stood by one of the open windows in front of her, facing her. She was familiar with this room now, so did not glance about it, but looked directly at Royce, waiting to learn what she was doing here. She felt self-conscious in the robe now. She should have balked at wearing it. If the belt loosened, she would be rendered practically naked. That was no way to appear in the presence of this man. A few days ago she might have considered such a tactic to break his control, but now she wasn't sure she still wanted him. No, that wasn't true. She still wanted him. What she wasn't sure of was if it was such a good idea to get what she wanted.
"It has come to my attention that the clothes given to you do not fit you very well."
This was the last thing Kristen expected to hear him say. That he was thinking of her clothes, when she had just been thinking of her clothes, gave her an impulse to giggle. She restrained herself.
"Did you only just notice?"
Royce frowned at her sarcasm. "There is a gown on my bed. See if it fits you."
"You want me to try it on now?"
"Aye."
"Do you leave, or will you stay to watch?"
Royce tensed at her taunting question. Of course she would not care if he watched or not. She was no doubt immune to having men see her naked. He felt his temper rising, and could not seem to stop it.
His tone was caustic when he replied. "I have no wish to see you disrobe, wench. I will give you my back until you have the gown on."
Coward, she said to herself. To him she retorted, "How very noble of you."
Kristen turned toward the bed to get the gown, but took only one step, then stopped abruptly. The green velvet was spread out on the bed so she could see it clearly, including the pearl border. But even if it wasn't, she would have recognized the material of this particular gown. It was her favorite, for her mother had made it for her, and her mother hated to sew, which was why the gown was so special to Kristen. Brenna had spent many long hours on it last year to give it to her daughter for the winter solstice feast.
"What are you waiting for?"
Kristen glanced over her shoulder at him to see that he had not turned his back on her, but had been watching her. She felt a trap as surely as if the hidden door had already sprung open. There could be only one reason he would want to see her in that gown. He thought it was hers. And no gown like that would belong to a whore. He must be thinking just that.
She had every right to be suspicious of his motives. She would be a fool to hide the fact that she knew what he was about. It was too obvious.
She decided to attack. "What does this mean?"
"What does what mean?"
She faced him, her eyes narrowing at his deliberate evasiveness. "Why would you want me to try on such a gown, milord?"
"I told you why."
"Aye, to see if it fits me. And if it does, will you give it to me? I think not. So what is the purpose?"
" 'Tis not your place to question my motives, wench."
Irritation bubbled to the surface. "Tell that to your slaves who are born slaves! You forget who I am!"
"Nay!" he shouted at her. " 'Tis who you are that is in question!"
"Again?" She feigned surprise now, but was in fact groaning inside to have his suspicions out in the open. "What has a gown to do with who I am?"
" 'Tis yours, is it not?"
She wanted to curse him for being so perceptive, but smiled at him instead. "Is that what you think? Next you will be saying I am a virgin."
"Are you?"
"Would you like to find out firsthand, milord?" she asked provocatively, daringly, playing the part, but praying he would not call her bluff. Her sexual aggression had angered him before, and it did so again now. He glowered at her in answer, and she laughed, pressing her point. "Come now, milord. How can you think that someone like me could own a gown as fine as that one? 'Tis a gown for a princess, or a rich merchant's wife."
"Or a whore with a rich lover who is too generous!" he snapped, not giving up.
Kristen gave him a saucy grin. "You give me more credit than I deserve, Saxon. Truly, you flatter me. But I assure you that if I had ever had a rich lover, I would not have let the fellow get away from me."
"Very well, you have denied the gown is yours. Now appease me and put it on anyway."
Curse him for a stubborn, pigheaded... "I will not. 'Tis cruel of you to ask me to."
"Why?"
" 'Twould be a luxury beyond measure to feel that velvet against my skin after wearing your coarse slave rags. But for how long can I wear it? Only until your ridiculous notions about me are satisfied," she answered for him. "Then you give me back the rags. Is that not cruel?"
Royce smiled at her. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile. It eased the lean hardness of his face, and made her heart feel as if it had flipped over.
"You have a way with words, wench, and an answer for everything. But you overlook one thing. In your position, you have no decisions or choices to make. You do as you are bid, no matter what is bid, whether it seems cruel to you or not. Is that simple enough for you to understand?"
"Aye."
"Then put the gown on."
He had spoken in an agreeably soft tone, but this last was stated quite firmly. He was determined to see her in that gown, no matter what she said. And what he would see if she put it on, was that it fit her like a second skin, perfectly. He would know it was hers. He would know she had lied. If he could ask her tonight if she was a virgin, then something had already made him suspect that she was not a whore. It was proof he wanted, proof he was set on having, one way or another, before she left this chamber.
He was wrong about one thing. She did have a choice to make. She could put the gown on and watch him turn cruel and vengeful, and rape her viciously just on principle, because it was what he said he would do if she was a virgin. Or she could entice him to make love to her in passion, because he wanted her, as she wanted him.
Either way, she knew the time had come. She was going to lose her innocence tonight. And the choice was simple. She could not bear for her first encounter with a man to be something she would remember with loathing. Royce desired her even though he was loath to admit it. She desired him. Their joining could be beautiful. She refused to let it be otherwise, especially for this first time. If he had to find out she was a virgin, it had to be after the fact. It would not matter afterward. And if she were lucky, it would not matter to him then either. But even if it did, she would have other defenses then, and the advantage of knowing him intimately.
"How long do you intend to make me wait?" Royce cut sharply into her thoughts.
"All night, milord," Kristen said softly. "I will not assist in this foolishness."
He crossed to her with angry strides. When he stopped and she looked up at him, she had the feeling that he wanted to lay hands on her and shake her.
"You dare to defy me?"
She met his furious gaze with an innocent look. "Surely you are not surprised? We Vikings are known to be daring, and bold, and have you not called me brazen too? So I am. If you want to see me in the gown, milord, you will have to put it on me."
"You think I would not?"
"Nay, you will not."
It was a challenge he could not refuse. With a single jerk, Royce opened her belt, then yanked the robe over her head and threw it aside. He would not look down at her, though, at least not below her face. For a long moment, his eyes bored into hers. Then he turned on his heel and stepped to the bed to swipe up the velvet gown in one fist.
It was the full sight of her that met him when he turned around to bring the gown to her. If he could have been spared that, if he could have kept his eyes fixed only on her face, Royce might have succeeded with his purpose. As it was, he couldn't move, he was so entranced.
She stood there proud and unashamed to have him see her thus, with no attempt to cover herself in any way, and he looked long and hard, feasting on the reality of what he had only been able to imagine previously. She was so very beautiful to him, so perfectly formed for all her height.
Royce was unaware that he had walked to her, but he stood next to her now, the velvet gown forgotten, dropping from his fingers to the floor. Everything was forgotten as his hands rose to cup her cheeks, and he lowered his head to taste the nectar of her lips. Slowly he tasted, gently at first to savor, then with the full measure of his need.
In those first moments, he was so consumed with desire that he would not have noticed if Kristen resisted him. But she was not resisting in any way. As before, she was kissing him back with an unrestrained abandon. A part of her was fearful that he would stop as he had before. The rest of her opened up to a wealth of new feeling.
She need not have worried. Royce was incapable of halting what had begun. He did not know it, but he had lost his battle to resist her before she even entered his chamber. He had no control over his actions and for once did not care. Passion alone was ruling him, a fair madness that would not abate without fruition.
Kristen moaned when his mouth left hers, but it was only for a moment as he bent to lift her in his arms. She felt a moment's panic—not for what was to come, but for her new and precarious height. She had not been held like this since she was a child and had grown too big for it to be reasonable for her father to carry her to bed when she had fallen asleep in the hall. But the weight that went with her size seemed not to faze Royce.
His hold on her was firm and he was in no hurry to relinquish it, but stood there for a long moment, resuming his kiss. Kristen's arms went about his neck, keeping his mouth firmly fixed to hers, and the kiss deepened as he carried her to his bed.
Very slowly he laid her down so that their lips would not part. And then he was lying full length at her side, with only his chest leaning half over her as he continued to kiss her. This was not enough for Kristen. She turned toward him so that she could feel all of him, arching her body into his, straining to attain every inch. This was still not enough. His clothes thwarted her, chafing at her skin.
Royce was only barely aware of what she was doing. He had thrilled to the complete contact with her, but had not stopped kissing her when she leaned away from him to work impatiently at his belt. It was when the belt fell away that he was totally aware of what she was about, for she pushed him back and climbed on top of him, sitting up so that she straddled his hips.
He saw her yanking at his tunic to remove it and he raised his back off the bed so she could easier pull it off. He did not think how strange this was to have a woman undress him. He was mesmerized by the sight of her sitting on him, her rounded breasts thrust forward, seeming to demand his touch. He did touch them, capturing a firm mound in each hand.
The sound she made then brought his eyes to hers, and he caught his breath to see heat smoldering in the depths of her aqua gaze. And she kept her eyes locked to his as she worked on the lacings of his braies, not breaking contact until she scooted down to his thighs, and with a suddenness he was not expecting, yanked his braies down over his hips.
She stared now at what she had uncovered, the strong root of him that was already throbbing for her. That she would do so, unabashed, sent new blood pulsing through him. She looked up at him in what seemed like wonder, only to glance down again as her fingers circled the thickness of him.
It was his undoing, more than he could bear. With a groan he sat up swiftly and gripped her shoulders to force her back down on the bed. She was not satisfied to stay down. As he hastily moved to discard the remainder of his clothes, her breasts pressed into his back, her hands coming round to cover his own breasts, kneading the muscle surrounding them.
Royce had never undressed so quickly. The moment he was finished he turned and gripped her hair, his mouth locking with hers in a kiss that was brutal with the passion she had stirred in him.
He pushed her down, and would have ended his torture then, except that the sight of her lying there, his for the taking, reminded him of how often he had ached to know what she would feel like under his hands. He kept her back when she would have pressed to him, and began a slow, leisurely exploration. Lying on his side, braced on an elbow so he could see what he explored, his hands discovered the velvet of her skin.
It was a sensual delight for Royce. It was more so for Kristen, for he brought forth so many wonderful sensations, she felt she couldn't contain them all. She had not thought she could want him any more than before. She was wrong. She burned for him now, her body twisting and undulating of its own accord, her skin seeming to leap up, begging for his touch.
When his fingers slipped between her thighs into the moist haven that ached for him, Kristen thought she would go mad with this shock of pleasure. It stilled her body, brought a cry from deep within. It also stopped Royce, for he did not understand her cry. In no way did he want to hurt her, not now.
Kristen watched his large hand move slowly up her belly, the fingers long, strong, and then she looked up at him, to find him watching her. He bent to kiss her then, a tender kiss, as if to tell her it was all right, he would not hurt her. He was treating her with care, even though he thought her a whore. She was moved by the gesture, more than she could credit. A new warmth of feeling for him filled her.
She spoke to him with her body, her hands reaching for him, encouraging him to come atop her, her legs parting to receive him. She knew what he would do to her, but not how it would feel. She wanted to know now how it would feel.
Royce needed no other encouragement. He gathered her close, amazed that he could, that for once he did not have to hold himself above a woman because he was so much longer than she. This woman conformed to his body perfectly and he did not have to fear that he would crush her with his weight, for she held him tightly to her, wanting his weight, as if reveling in this mark of his possession.
He began to fill her, slowly, marveling that he had the patience to prolong this moment he had dreamed about. He marveled too at the tight sheath she offered him, the searing moist heat. Then the obstacle was met that blocked his easy path, and his whole body rebelled at what this meant.
Kristen was prepared for this moment of truth. Her knees were raised and bent, her feet placed flat on the bed to give her leverage. She was not going to let him stop now, so that he could start again later in a different way. The moment she felt him stiffen and start to raise up on his elbows so he could look down at her, she clasped her hands to his buttocks and pressed down while she thrust her own hips upward.
With his shoulders raised up only partially, Royce was without the leverage himself to stop her, in fact aided her purpose in that position. And having no way of knowing what she intended, there had been no time to even try. He was sheathed completely before his elbows were firmly placed to support him. He was in time only to see her expression, the eyes squeezed shut, the cringe of pain that crossed her features. There was no scream, only a soft gasp.
Her features smoothed out quickly enough and she opened her eyes to look up at him. He could not control the anger that flashed over his own features.
"Will you finish too?"
"Only if you want me to."
He groaned at such an answer, and then he laughed and fell back on her, gathering her tightly to him again, and made love to her as if his life depended on it. This was no time to question why she did the things she did. The fire that raged between them precluded all else.