He was talking to himself, trying to find a way to get them back to this Ranulf, whoever he was. Torsten stopped listening, instead focusing on his and Aife’s predicament. He only had the eating knife at his belt to use as a weapon. But even if he’d been armed with his father’s mighty sword, alone against three able men and one who could still help by threatening to cut Aife’s throat should he hurt his friends, Torsten didn’t stand a chance.
“So, what have you decided?” the man still lying on the ground—Girard—asked. He seemed in pain and eager to leave to seek assistance.
“We can’t take the two captives with us so we’ll tie up them up and leave them here while we go to Ranulf. He can decide what to do with them,” Ginger declared. “After all, all he needs to see is that I have defeated a Norseman in combat and taken his woman at the same time as a gift to him. We don’t have to deal with the aftermath. Enguerrand, will you do the honors?”
At his nod, the man holding his left arm released him to go to his saddlebag. With the blade still poking him in the back, Torsten didn’t dare move. Besides, there was no need. If he and Aife really were to be left on their own, he was sure they could find a way to escape.
“Shouldn’t someone stay behind with them?” The question came from the man who’d said he didn’t mind raping unconscious women earlier, the one holding the knife against his spine, the one Torsten had started to call Vermin in his mind. Itwasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking. If he was selected to keep watch, as soon as his friends were gone, he would release Aife from the ropes and rape her, leaving Torsten tied up to watch, powerless. It didn’t bear thinking about. “You know, just to make sure they don’t?—”
“No,” Ginger snapped, evidently agreeing this was what his vile friend had in mind. “We’ll all go to Ranulf together. Now, let us tie them nice and tight, before placing them between those rocks so no one can see them before I come back with Ranulf and his men.”
Torsten didn’t miss the shift from “we” to “I.” The man intended to attribute the capture of two people to himself alone. He meant to pretend he’d defeated a warrior in single combat and abducted a beauty from her bed, reaping all the benefit and giving his friends none of the credit. Torsten didn’t care what happened, even if he wondered how the idiot hoped the captives would not give their version of the story, a version that would contradict the heroic tale. But perhaps Ranulf wouldn’t care how the two of them had been captured, as long as they had.
“Move. Over there. You heard him, youfils de putain.” The words were not ones Torsten recognized. Probably a scathing insult in the Norman tongue. The order was followed by a jab to the base of the spine that Torsten felt all the way to the base of his skull.
“Yes, I heard him. And I will be the one carrying the woman,” he growled, ignoring the pain in his back.
“I will do that, I think. She seems?—”
“No. You promised your men would leave her alone,” he reminded the ginger-haired Norman whose name he still didn’t know. “They are not to touch a hair on her head.”
“Enough of this! Carry her if you insist, Norseman, but do it now. I’m in a hurry.” Ginger shrugged, his mind clearly already on the conversation he planned to have with Ranulf.
Not waiting for anyone else to protest, Torsten bent down to lift Aife, who still hadn’t shown any signs of waking up. Was she pretending to be unconscious, as she’d been instructed to, or was she genuinely hurt? He whispered soothing words into her ear, not knowing if they were destined to reassure her or himself. What would he do if he found out that she had died from the fall? All his life he would remember that the last thing he’d done was threaten to fuck her against a tree in retaliation for the humiliation she had inflicted on him. How could he bear to know that they had parted on a disagreement, before they could set things right?
It would be horrible.
“Lie her down here and kneel by her side,” Vermin ordered, making sure to keep his blade at the ready. It was clear he didn’t trust him. Torsten couldn’t blame him. At the first opportunity, he would pounce and they both knew it. “No sudden movements or I’ll gut you, do you hear?”
“Non. You’re not to kill him just yet. Ranulf will be the one deciding on his fate,” Ginger interposed. “’Tis most important. Just keep an eye on him.”
“I don’t see why we can’t kill him. It would save us some time and still prove?—”
“I will handle this as I see fit, thank you.” The rest of the comment was uttered in a language Torsten didn’t understand.
Ignoring the bickering Normans, he did as he’d been told and settled Aife on the mossy ground, taking care not to jostle her further. He wanted to believe she was awake and only heeding his instructions, but in truth, he was getting very worried by her lack of reaction.
“I could only find enough rope for one of them,” the man called Enguerrand called out a moment later, showing the coil of thin rope he was holding. “This is all I have. The rest is in Tonnerre’s saddlebag.”
“Mordiable!” Ginger seemed to consider this a moment. “They’re both rather slender so we’ll bundle them together. It’s even better that way, as they won’t be able to move an inch if they are stuck together. There will be less chance of them escaping until Ranulf and I come for them.” He let out a small laugh. “The Norseman wanted to hold her? I’ll be glad to grant his wish.”
Torsten clenched his jaw. He didn’t have any objection to being tied to Aife, but it was true that it would make escaping a whole lot more difficult. He had hoped she would be able to grab the eating knife the men had somehow forgotten to remove from his person once they were alone. But if she was stuck to him, she would be unable to. Still, he knew it was pointless to beg, it would only earn him another poke in the back. Better tied up than killed outright when Vermin lost his temper. Besides, he wanted the men gone, so he could finally ascertain how Aife was faring.
“Lie down. And don’t try and be clever. I cannot kill you but I can certainly poke your eyes out.” Having been denied his pleasure, the dark-haired man sounded gruffer than ever.
Moments later Torsten was lying on his side, with Aife in front of him. She was cradled in his warmth, her back plastered to his chest, his arms encircling hers, her wrists and ankles tied up to his. In such a position they were well and truly helpless. She had done her best to stay limp through the whole ordeal, as he’d instructed her earlier, but he was now convinced that she was only feigning unconsciousness, not an easy task when the men made sure to grope her breasts and hips while they moved her about. His own blood was boiling at the treatment.
At long last it was over. For good measure, the Normans had removed all the sharp rocks within reaching distance and finally remembered to search him for weapons. His eating knife wasfound and taken away. Even if he could have reached his belt, there would be no slicing through the ropes. Damnation.
“We ride,” Torsten heard Ginger instruct his friends from somewhere behind the boulders concealing them from view of any passerby.
The company set off immediately, leaving him and Aife alone at last.
As soon as the noise of the horses’ hooves pounding the ground had receded in the distance, he whispered in her ear. “Aife. Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
That one little word allowed the blood to flow back into his veins. “Are you hurt?”
