“I thought you might wish one.”
“It would be pleasant.”
“Then plant one.”
“As you wish, husband. Would you like some more wine?”
“Do you plan to make me drink myself insensible?”
“Whatever pleases you, m’lord.”
Gytha wondered if it was wise for Thayer to grind his teeth that way. She took a moment to smile gently at Margaret, whose eyes were wide with a growing fear and concern. Roger’s gaze, she idly noted, brimmed with barely suppressed laughter. She hurriedly looked away when the rogue winked at her.
The roar of fury building in Thayer was almost tangible. Gytha was hard-pressed not to smile over her coming victory. It sorely tried her wit to keep her answers short, no more than polite remarks. Thayer grew more clever in the questions he asked, spitting ones at her that demanded fuller replies, cried out for elaboration. She knew each terse, cool reply she gave was another breeze to fan the flame growing in him. The game she played exhilarated her. She supposed it was because she courted danger in a small way. As others saw what was happening, the hall grew quiet, all gazes fixed upon her. It confirmed her opinion that few others would purposely goad the Red Devil as she was.
“Bek was a help to you?” Thayer felt short of breath, so filled with anger he had trouble breathing.
“Aye. Would you like another piece of fruit?”
“Nay,” he ground out.
“As you wish, husband.” She then braced herself, instinct telling her that she had snapped the last thread of his frayed control.
Chapter Eleven
“Enough!”
Gytha blinked, rather surprised that she was still seated. It would not have surprised her to have found herself blown from her seat. As it was, her ears rang from the huge sound that had erupted from her husband’s powerful lungs. She hoped her hearing would clear enough to catch whatever he would say once they were alone.
“Does something trouble you, m’lord?” she asked in a voice so calm half the people in the hall stared at her as if she were utterly mad.
“Thayer!” he bellowed as he surged to his feet, slamming his fist down on the table hard enough to upset many of the dishes.
“As you wish—Thayer” She bit her lip against a startled cry when he suddenly yanked her from her seat.
Shoving his face close to hers, he hissed, “If you say ‘as you wish’ once more, I swear I shall strangle you. Come with me.”
Since he started dragging her along after him, she had little choice but to obey. “We are done with our meal?”
“Aye, we are done with that.”
Just before Thayer yanked her through the door, Gytha managed a reassuring wink for Margaret. It was hard not to giggle over the mix of surprise and concern she briefly read on all the faces in the hall save for Roger’s. That man was clearly struggling to hold back his laughter until Thayer was gone. She heard that laughter break free, loud and clear, the moment Thayer slammed the door behind them. The vicious curse Thayer growled told her he had heard it too. She hoped the route to their chambers was not long enough to dim any of Thayer’s glorious anger.
Even as he cursed, dragging Gytha along behind him, Thayer fought to gain some control of his raging temper. However, full control seemed to be far beyond his grasp.
When he reached their chambers, he hurled Gytha inside. Slamming the door behind him, he strode to where some wine had been set out for them. Anger always made him feel violent, but he knew she did not deserve it, nor could he deal it to her. Pouring some wine and gulping it down, he wrestled to suppress that feeling. When he finished his drink, he hurled his tankard against the wall in a meager attempt to alleviate the emotions raging inside him. Slowly, he turned to face Gytha, ill-pleased to find her seated calmly on their bed watching him.
“As you please,” he snarled as he stalked over to the bed. “If it pleases you. Am I but a guest here?”
“Of course not. You are my husband. I am your dutiful wife.”
“Oh, aye. Very dutiful. And cold. Is this how you mean to punish me?”
“I am punishing you, am I?”
“I know I failed in protecting you—”
“Oh, aye, you did that right enough.” She stood on the bed to glare at him. “You also insulted me. You have ever compared me to that whore.” She could see his anger start to fade but did not care, for her own was now unleashed. “I came to our marriage bed chaste, yet you have ever felt whoring lurked in my blood. You waited like some carrion beast over a corpse, waited for me to act like the fair Lady Elizabeth.”
