She thought of all this before she turned to face Royce, unmindful that she was giving Alfred a trim view of her naked backside. But Kristen did not give the King another thought, not once she saw the look of fury on Royce's face as he stalked toward her. He said not a word to her, but caught the hand she put out to ward him off. She let go of her sheet to hit him with the other, but he caught that too, bringing both hands up behind her back, which pressed her hard against his chest. "Your pardon, milord," Royce said to his King. Alfred chuckled. "Nay, 'twas most entertaining." Tight-lipped, Royce nodded and closed the door. He then dragged Kristen back to his own chamber. He did not trust himself to speak yet. He felt like throttling her and was very close to giving it serious consideration.
He kicked his own door closed and dragged her with him to the bed. He sat down on it, yanking her across his lap as he did. He held her in such a way that she could not move either hand, and her legs were likewise of little help. For long moments he just held her, trying to bring his fury under control while she jerked and twisted to get loose. Finally, Kristen's strength was expended and she became still. But her eyes were smoldering with blue-green fire. Royce did not see it. He had closed his own against the sight of her squirming naked on his lap. "I hate you!" The words jolted him, they were hissed with such rancor. A tight feeling twisted at his chest, defusing most of his own anger. As unpredictable as Kristen was, he had never thought to hear her say that.
His eyes locked with hers, probing. "Why?" he asked her quietly. There was more heat to her own voice. "You tricked me! You knew what I thought, and you let me think it!" "I cannot know your mind, Kristen." "Liar!" she fumed. "Why else would I come to your chamber without protest? You take off my chains and you say we will make a bargain. You said naught of it being only a temporary bargain." He had indeed been surprised by her acquiescence, but had been too pleased to wonder long about it. "You say me wrong, wench." Royce sighed. "How could I know what you assumed, when a permanent removal of those chains was never my intention? If the notion did not cross my mind, how could I know it did yours?" "So, I am the fool—again. I see in you what is not there, what will never be there." He was stung by her bitterness. "What do you see? God's mercy, Kristen, what do you want from me?" "There is naught that I want—anymore—except to be left alone." He shook his head, slowly, his eyes almost regretful. "I would if I could." "If you could?" she sneered. "Have you no stronger will than that, Saxon?" "Not in dealing with you." It was something, for him to admit that. But it did not placate the deep resentment she was feeling at the moment.
He spoke again, softly. "You do not hate me, Kristen. You are angry with me, but you do not hate me. Admit it." It was true. She still didn't hate him. She wished she did, but she didn't. Still, she kept her lips sealed. "Then if you will not say so, show me," he said in a whisper as he bent to kiss her. Kristen wished it otherwise, but she did show him.
Chapter Twenty-nine
New guests arrived at Wyndhurst. Lord Averill came to see the King. He brought with him his only son, Wil-burt, and his three daughters. Kristen would have paid scant attention to these newcomers, except that one of them was the Lady Corliss of Raedwood, and Edrea, working beside her, was quick to point it out. Kristen might have guessed for herself from Darrelle's elaborate efforts to make the lady welcome.
So this was Royce's betrothed. Kristen was not surprised that Corliss was incredibly beautiful, but actually seeing that she was made her miserable. Corliss was small, delicate, and graceful, everything that Kristen was not. And she had thought to win Royce away from this tiny woman? God's bones, she was more the fool than she knew! Kristen could be thankful for only one thing: that Royce was not present to greet his betrothed. It would have been more than she eould bear to see him bestow on this woman all the tender care and gallantry she longed for herself, without having time to prepare for it first. As it was, she had to watch the deferential way Corliss was treated by Darrelle, by the servants, and by Alden, who came in later.
It was disgusting, really, but so typical. Even if the lady was not liked, she would be handled with care, for she would soon be Lady of Wyndhurst, supplanting Darrelle, who now enjoyed that position as Royce's only female relative.
There was one among the household, however, who did not try to curry the lady's favor. Meghan. Of course the child could not be expected to understand that the woman would one day have complete charge of her, that it would behoove her to be nice to Corliss now. But Kristen silently applauded when she saw Meghan shake her head at Corliss when the lady bade her come near. And then the child actually made a face at the lady before leaving the women's area.
Kristen nearly laughed aloud, but suppressed the urge, not wanting the servants to wonder what she found amusing. She knew Darrelle would have called Meghan back and chastised her if she had seen what she did. Corliss now wore a tight-lipped look of displeasure, but she did not call Meghan back, either. Kristen would have been unable to stop the laughter, though, if she had noticed that Alden saw the interaction too and turned about to hide his own humor. Kristen was surprised a few moments later to feel a tug on her skirt. She glanced around to see that Meghan had worked her way around the hall to come up behind her. The child wouldn't look up at her, though. "Are—are you still angry with me?" Kristen frowned, wondering what prompted such a question. "Why would I be angry with you, little one?" "I told my brother what you said to me before, but Alden said 'twas secrets I revealed." Meghan peeked up at her. "I did not know, truly." "And you thought I would be angry?" "You were," Meghan said. "I saw you the next day and you were very angry." Kristen smiled, remembering. "But not at you, sweet-ling. What you told your brother about me made no difference." That was a lie, for it was what led him to first make love to her, but Kristen could not in truth regret that happening.
Meghan gave a look of self-disgust. "Then I hid from you for naught." Kristen chuckled, bringing Eda's attention to them. "What do you here, child?" the old woman demanded. "Talking," Meghan retorted defiantly. Eda gave Kristen a stern look. "You have work to do, wench." "And I am doing it." "Can I help?" Meghan asked.
Hearing that, Eda shook her head and went back to her own tasks. Kristen did not know what to say to Meghan, who was waiting for her reply, and looking hopeful. She glanced at the group of women at the far end of the hall, then back at Meghan. She sighed. "Should you be here, Meghan?"
Meghan looked toward the ladies, too, then said stubbornly, "I would rather be here than over there." Kristen repressed another smile. "Why do you dislike the Lady Corliss?" Meghan looked back in surprise. "How did you know?" "I saw what you did." "Oh." The little girl blushed now, lowering her head, and then she said defensively, to explain herself, "She did not really want me to come to her. She does and says things she does not mean. She is full of sweet words now, but she was not before the betrothal." "I see." "Do you?" Meghan ventured hopefully. "You do not think I am wrong to not like her?" "Your feelings are yours alone and cannot be commanded by another. But since your brother likes her, mayhap you should try to." "I did," Meghan admitted with a touch of rancor. "Until Royce took me with him to Raedwood and she pinched me, so I would go away and leave her alone with him." "What did he do?" "He did not see." Kristen frowned. "You should have told him." "Nay, he would have been displeased."
And Meghan would never do anything to displease him. Kristen sighed to herself. The poor child really should be made to see that her brother's anger was not such a terrible thing—or, at least, that it wouldn't be to her. Kristen had herself seen the way he treated Meghan with such tender care. She had watched him one evening carry the child upstairs when she had fallen asleep in the hall. How that had reminded her of her own father, and how Garrick used to do the same for her. Royce loved this little girl dearly, yet Meghan was still frightened of him.
Kristen shook her head at the thought. Meghan despaired, watching her. "You want me to go?" "What? Oh, nay, sweetling, stay if you like." Kristen realized that at the moment she was pr
obably the lesser of two evils in the girl's mind. "But are you sure you will not be scolded if you remain here?" Meghan quickly shook her head. "There are so many guests, no one will notice where I am." "Then sit you down on that stool, and I will show you how to make my father's favorite nut bread." "He likes nuts in his bread?" "Indeed." Kristen winked as she reached inside her outer gown, where she had made a pouch with the help of her girdle, and pulled out a handful of nuts. "And I swiped these from Eda before she could stuff them into her hens. We will make two special loaves, just for us. Would you like that?" "Oh, aye, Kristen!" Meghan's face lit up with childish delight. " 'Twill be our secret."
Meghan was incorrect in her prediction that no one would notice where she was. Royce noticed as soon as he entered the hall, for as always his eyes sought out Kristen first. And he could not help but see Meghan sitting next to her, for their heads were bent together, and they were laughing over something, oblivious to everything else around them.
He paused for a moment, feeling a warm rush of pleasure, watching them—his sister and his woman. When everyone else was wary of Kristen, he would have thought Meghan, who feared all strangers, would be even more so. Apparently not. It was obvious that they liked each other, and he was pleased by that.
He would have moved toward them, if Darrelle had not called him. Then he saw Corliss, and he stiffened. How could he have forgotten that she would be here? Lord Averill had come out to the practice field where Alfred had challenged his nobles to some impromptu contests of skill. And whenever Averill came to Wynd-hurst, his daughters came too. It had been too much to hope that this time would be different. It was not. He gritted his teeth and walked forward to greet his betrothed.
Kristen watched Royce and Corliss all evening, where they sat together at the long table. She could not seem to help herself, and simply ignored the painful lump constricting her chest. In spite of telling herself it did not matter, that Royce was not hers anyway, there was still that part of her that felt betrayed, that felt he was hers. Only she could not fight for him, could not rail at him, could do nothing to separate him from this other woman. It hurt, and it made her realize her position here more fully than she had hitherto. She had been blithely getting through this ordeal with the assumption that in the end she would get what she wanted. And so each setback had made her lose patience—and her temper, too—but not complete hope.
She was so naive! Just because her father had fallen in love with and married his slave, did not mean the same thing could happen here in Wessex. At home, her family was a law unto themselves because of their isolation from the rest of the land. Her uncle Hugh was a Jarl, as powerful in authority in Norway as King Alfred was here. But even so, her mother had had to be freed first before Garrick could wed her. Norway had its laws concerning slaves that love could not put aside. And here, there were so many lords, so many laws! And had not Royce called her mad when she mentioned marriage to him?
Seeing him with his betrothed made Kristen realize she had been mad to think she could ever have him for herself. Not once did she see things from Royce's point of view. Once he had called her lower than the lowest serf—said in anger, true—but how close was that to how he really felt about her? She was a slave. He had many. She wanned his bed now, but soon he would have a wife to do so. The concern he showed for Kristen was no more than he would give any of his possessions. "Woolgathering, are you?" It took a moment for Kristen's eyes to focus on Eda. "Aye, I suppose I was." Eda gave her a knowing look, hearing the misery in her tone. "You always did expect too much, wench." "I know." Eda shook her head. "You should be thankful for what you have. You are alive, when he could have killed you and those you call friends. He sees to your needs. God's mercy, he even protects you from other men! Half the wenches here will be tumbled by these lordlings tonight, but not you." "You do not have to tell me how fortunate I am." "Oh, ho." Eda chuckled, knowing sarcasm when she heard it. "If you do not like the way 'tis, you can always look now for another man. I have eyes and have seen the way these lordlings look at you. Mayhap if you ask milord nicely, he will sell you when he weds." "Aye, mayhap I will." "What! Nay, wench, I was but jesting. You do that, and we will all suffer for the storm you will start." "You make no sense, Eda." "I tell you true, he will never sell you. You are not stupid," Eda told her impatiently. "You know that what you do has a direct effect on him." "Not so," Kristen retorted.
"Oh? And that week when naught pleased him, that week you sent him away from your room—what would you call that, wench? Everyone here knew you were the cause of his black mood, though only I knew why." Eda chuckled again. "But as soon as he had you in his bed, his humor returned." Kristen looked down and away, feeling heat stain her cheeks. "So he wants me now. Twill not last."
"That man will want you always, wench. I see it in the way he deals with you. I could tell you other things that would convince you, but I do not want to fill your head with more vain ideas. Nay, he will never sell you, or let you have another. But he will marry his lady." Kristen stiffened. "Then why do you tell me all this, old woman?" "Because he will keep you too. Because I do not like to see you so miserable. Because you must begin to accept what you have and cease to reach higher. If you are not happy, then he will be unhappy too, and that affects us all." "Enough, Eda. I do not believe I wield such power over him. If I did—" "If you did, what? Aye, I know. You will ignore all I have said. You still reach too high, wench."
"Nay, I understand you well. What you do not understand is that I can never accept things the way they are. My mother was made a slave once, captured same as I. She was the daughter of a great lord in her own land and full of pride. She would never admit that she was a slave to the man who owned her, nor to herself. I am not quite so stubborn. I know my position as 'tis now. Yet I am my mother's daughter. I cannot remain a slave, Eda." "You have no choice." Kristen looked away, out over the hall, which was dark now except for a few remaining torches. While she had sat there with her dejected thoughts, nearly everyone had retired. Pallets were spread everywhere, for not only Royce's retainers and servants slept here, but those of the guests as well. She had not seen Royce leave, or his lady. "Does she stay the night?" Kristen asked Eda. The old woman grunted, knowing exactly whom she meant. "Aye, they would not ride home in the dark. And I have talked enough to have my words fall on deaf ears. Come, you sleep with me tonight." A new rush of pain filled Kristen, but she hid behind a stoical expression. "She sleeps with him, then?" "For shame, such thoughts!" Eda scolded. "You know we have only the six chambers above. The ladies have been put with Lady Darrelle and Meghan. Lord Alden gave up his own room for the King and is crowded in with the lordlings who have the other two chambers." "Then why—" "Shush," Eda hissed. "Milord did not like it, but with Lord Averill and his son come today, he could no longer keep his own chamber to himself. There was just no more room above." Kristen pictured Royce sharing his bed with his future in-laws, and she almost smiled. But not quite.
Chapter Thirty
One 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 mom 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.