L ate in the afternoon, when Kristen returned to the hall with Eda after putting the guest chambers to rights, she was still wondering how she could have her revenge against Alden, without forfeiting her own life. She had wondered about it all day. She had listed in her mind the many ways she could wound him—or, rather, permanently maim him, so that he might succumb to depression and take his own life. The only problem with that was, what if being a cripple did not do it? How would a man who was otherwise so carefree and cheerful react to depression?
She did not consider giving up and letting Alden live. Quite the contrary. Fretting about it all day had made her think more and more of her brother, and that only strengthened her resolve.
But it was perhaps having Selig on her mind so strongly that caused her to have such a bad reaction on her first sight of the stranger in the hall. He sat with his back to her, and yet she turned deathly white, lost her breath, lost the use of her legs, even lost her sight for that one heart-stopping moment when she thought her brother had come back from the dead.
Eda plowing into her brought Kristen back to life, too much life, for she reacted badly to her momentary madness. "God's teeth, woman! Watch where you are going!"
"Me!" Eda was taken aback. "Me? Who stopped dead? I ask you."
Kristen merely glowered at her and stalked on toward the cooking area. Once there, her eyes were drawn back to the stranger again and again. It was the cursed hair, blackest black. It was the cursed breadth of shoulder, just the exact width. It was the cursed long-muscled back, just like the one she used to ride on when she was so much younger. No wonder she had thought she looked at Selig, despite every sense that told her it was impossible. From behind, the stranger was his double.
She could not stop watching him. She could not stop the need that built to see his face. Yet he did not once turn around. He sat with Seldon and Hunfrith swilling mead, an occasional laugh coming from one or more of them as they talked quietly together, too far away for her to hear their voices.
When Royce came into the hall, some of Kristen's agitation calmed. He had that power over her. Yet she was still annoyed with him for his threat and gave him only a cursory glance. Alden was with him, and to Royce's cousin she cast a murderous look that made him chuckle. No more than ten seconds later her eyes were back on the stranger. Who was he?
"His name is Gaelan."
"What?" Kristen turned to see Edrea grinning at her.
"Gaelan," Edrea repeated. "A Celt from Devon. I noticed you watched him too."
" 'Too'?"
Edrea giggled now. "Look around you." She indicated in particular the sewing area. "Even Lady Darrelle stares at the man."
"Why?"
"Why? You jest, Kristen. He has a face made in heaven. Why else do you stare?"
"I only wondered who he was and what he does here," Kristen said testily. "I thought we were done with strangers coming here."
"As to why he is here, milord has retained him. He will work on the wall with the others."
"Aye, he has the body for such work."
"Indeed." Edrea sighed.
"I thought you held a tender for Bjarni."
"I do." Edrea smiled blushingly. "But if the Celt would notice me . . ." She sighed again. "But then, I have the same problem. He does not speak our tongue, and though many here can speak his, I am not one of them."
Eda came over to scold: "Edrea, make haste and help Aethel set up the tables. Gossiping does not get work done. And you, Kristen, finish shelling those peas."
Kristen grabbed the old woman's arm before she could turn away again. "Eda, did you notice the Celt?"
Eda looked across the hall to where Gaelan sat. "Aye. You cannot help but notice him, as big as he is."
"But I thought only the Cornish Celts were giants, and you said Royce is enemies with them."
"True, but this one is not from the Cornish coast. And there are exceptions everywhere as to the size of a people. Look at Lord Royce in comparison with other Saxons, but he is a Saxon true."
"I suppose."
Eda's eyes narrowed. "I see you are interested, but you would do well to quell that interest immediately. Milord would not like it at all."
"Royce does not—"
Kristen grinned, the words own me dying in her throat. Royce did own her and she should worry about his likes and dislikes—as long as it suited her. But she was not really interested in the Celt, not as Eda meant. She just wanted to see his face.
"Your warning is taken, Eda."
"Good. And now the peas, ere they have not the time needed to cook."
But not five seconds after Eda turned back to the hearth, Kristen deliberately moved the heavy cauldron of shelled peas to the edge of the table, where it balanced precariously for half a second. When it crashed loudly to the floor, peas rolling out like a green carpet toward the hearth, her eyes flew not to the mishap she had caused, but remained fixed on the Celt.
His was not the only head that turned at the sound of the crash. But his was the only one Kristen saw.
"God's mercy, wench!" Eda exclaimed behind her. "What ails you to be so clumsy today?"
Kristen did not even hear. Her eyes were locked with gray eyes she had never thought to see again. A strangled sound came from her throat, escaping through the hand that covered her mouth. Her other hand pressed against her breasts, for her heart pounded so it hurt. It could not be true! God help her! Selig! Alive!
She rose from her stool to go to him. He rose from his chair to meet her halfway. At the exact same moment they both came to their senses and stopped.
Kristen swung around, her hands now gripping the table behind her to keep her there. Alive! Her eyes closed tightly. Really alive! She breathed deeply, fast and hard, to try to stop the urge she had to scream, to laugh, to cry.
She couldn't go to him. God help her, she couldn't hold him in her arms. To do so would have him locked away with the others. Yet joy washed over her in rapid degrees and she thought she would burst from it.
She finally noticed Eda staring at her in bewilderment. On an impulse she leaped forward, grabbing the old woman off her feet and swinging her round and round, laughing at her shrieks. She could laugh at that. She had to have this excuse to laugh. Oh, God, her brother was alive!
"You are mad, wench! Put me down!"
"I am apologizing!" Kristen's smile was brilliant. "For all your advice I did not heed. I concede you are wise beyond your years, Eda. Oh, Eda, I love you!"
Kristen twirled the old woman once more before she set her down to commence the worst grumbling and scolding Kristen had ever heard before. She smiled through it all as she hurried to collect all the scattered peas, not daring to look again across the hall.
But across the hall, Selig was also smiling. His search was indeed at an end. He had found Kristen, and she was hail and hearty and making a fool of herself to keep from racing to him. He knew her exuberance. She had knocked him flat on his back more than once when he returned from a sailing trip and she threw herself into his arms in greeting. How she contained herself now was a wonder, but it was a warning, too, of which he was already aware. He could not go to her, could not acknowledge her in any way. Throughout his search he had been tormented with the thought of her death. But she was alive. Alive!
"What do you make of that, Royce?" Alden wanted to know.
They had both watched Kristen behaving most bizarrely. "What can I say? She ceases to surprise me with the strange things she does. Nay, she still surprises me, but I am more used to it now."
"Well, 'tis strange indeed that she should find such humor in spilling peas."
Royce laughed at Alden's disgruntled tone. Several feet away, Selig tensed, seeing the lords watching Kristen.
He nudged Seldon beside him. "What do they say?"
"They are speaking of the Viking wench."
"She is a prisoner here, too?"
"Aye, but 'twould be more meet to call her Lord Royce's personal slave, if you know what I mean." Seldon chuckled. "That is one Viking he has tamed."
Selig closed his eyes. Beneath the table his hands clenched into fists. He had only feared for her death. Not once had he thought of her ravishment at the hands of these Saxons.
His eyes opened slowly, a dark and violent storm gathering there. He was going to have to kill this Saxon lord.