“I told you not to touch me,” she snapped.
“Gytha, let me try to explain….” Thayer began, faltering as no words came to mind.
“Explain! Explain what? Do you mean to tell me you lack the wit to see the difference between lovemaking and rape? I thought you so well versed in the ways of the world. Or mayhap this is some decadent court custom you neglected to tell me of. But what does that matter? You are my husband,” she screamed, then struggled against the frenzied emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
“Gytha.” Thayer reached towards her only to have his hand slapped away yet again.
“My husband.” She sneered the words, making them sound an insult. “Whether I was willing or not, you should have run a sword through the man.” She suddenly stared at him, an answer to it all growing clearer and clearer in her mind. “’Tis what you wanted to see.”
“Nay!” Thayer immediately knew he had protested too hastily and with a lack of conviction even he could hear.
“’Tis. All this time you have but waited for me to step wrong. You did not see rape because it was not what you expected to see. I told myself so many times not to be so fearful, but I was right. You have never trusted me. Never.”
“Gytha,” he ventured with clear desperation, “come with me to our chambers. You need to clean up. Then we can talk about this.”
“I will go nowhere with you. Nowhere.” Her voice was flat as she was swept by a desolation so powerful it choked her.
“You cannot wander about court on your own.”
“Nay? And why not? I have as much protection on my own as I do with you.” She almost enjoyed his wince, the way he went slightly gray. “Why, an assassin could leap upon me, cut my throat from ear to ear, and be long gone ere you decided if t’was a ploy or real.”
She sighed. “I believe I will go to our chambers—alone. It has been a very long evening. First your former lover whispers her poison in my ears. Then I must watch the two of you stroll away into the shadows like lovers. While I tell myself not to allow jealousy to cloud my reason, I find myself dragged out here by a courtier who goes slightly mad when I find his advances offensive. And then, the coup de grace—I discover my husband has always believed me naught but a whore. I fear that is too much entertainment for me.” She felt someone take her hand and looked to see Bek at her side. “Bek?”
“I will go with you,” the boy said.
She found the sympathy in the boy’s eyes a balm for her tortured emotions. He could not possibly understand all that was being said. However, he knew she was hurt, a hurt she had every right to. Briefly, she squeezed his hand in a gesture of gratitude.
Afraid to let her leave before he could speak to her, Thayer reached for her. Gytha spat a curse that widened his eyes as well as Roger’s and Bek’s. Then she struck him forcefully in the stomach. Surprise more than anything else caused him to release her to clutch at his belly. He stood, crouched over, watching her walk away with Bek at her side, the boy casting nervous looks over his shoulder. When he finally moved to follow her, Roger halted him.
“Nay, Thayer. Leave her be.”
“I must speak to her.”
“About what? To say what? That she is right?”
Thayer abruptly turned away from Roger’s gaze, staring blindly in the direction Gytha had gone. “Aye, that. Or lies. Or apologies. Anything.”
“I think it would be wisest to just leave her alone for a little while.”
“So her hate can harden?”
Roger grimaced. “I do not believe hate is what she feels. Hurt, anger, disappointment—aye. What in God’s good name were you thinking of?” he demanded in exasperation. “How could you but stand there while some low cur mauled your wife?”
“I was doing exactly what she accused me of,” Thayer replied in a voice weighted with guilt.
Moving to a rough log bench, Thayer sat down and buried his face in his hands. He heard Roger join him a moment later. Whatever Roger thought of his actions did not really matter now. He needed a way to right the wrong he had done Gytha, but he was not very confident that he could make amends. Whatever peace he made with his wife would be hard-wrung. Glancing at Roger, he found little hope in that man’s face.
“Mayhap groveling would help,” Roger murmured after several moments.
“’Tis likely my only hope of even gaining an audience with her.”
“To say what?”
“Well, I certainly cannot deny her charges. She would see that for the lie it is. It would only make matters worse—if they can get any worse. I have been waiting for her to cuckold me. You saw it.” He shook his head. “You called me on it time and again. I should have heeded your words. I truly thought I was beginning to.”
“’Tis plain you heeded not a word or did so too late. Pearls cast before swine,” Roger grumbled.
“Heaping insults upon me solves nothing.”
