Where the hell was she?
If she thought serving was repulsive, washing dishes was doubly so. She never wanted to eat again.
“Tomorrow, we leave for Wessex for the Christmas festivities,” he informed her. “After that, I will have an audience with King Cnut.”
She looked at him coming closer. “And then what?” she asked nervously.
He sat in a chair next to hers. “And then we shall see. I would like to go home to Denmark.”
“What of me?” Why did she ask him? She hated that she needed his protection. But for now, she did. She would play along with whatever this was.
“You will come with me, of course.”
To Denmark? She almost laughed out loud but she felt too sick to her stomach. How long would she have to stay with him?
“Have you sailed upon a longship before?” he asked her.
She blinked. “What?” She knew what he was talking about. No, she’d never been on a longship before. If there was a longship, did it mean they really were in England, pre-William the Conqueror? No. Impossible.
“I assume you have not. You will be ill for the entire trip, no doubt.”
Wonderful. More fun to look forward to.
“What are you doing here? Waiting for me?” She didn’t want to ask, but it was late, and she was tired.
“I do not let what is mine get ravaged by the dogs.”
She wondered if pulling out a club from behind his back and hitting her over the head with it was next. “How sweet,” she seethed. “And is it just me you think you own? I would have thought you had a flock of women.”
He crooked one edge of his mouth into a smirk. “One is difficult enough, but when I return home, you will be the first of my servants.” He said it happily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world and she should be happy, too.
She was tempted to poison his food.
“Come,” he said standing up from his seat. “It is late.”
“Um…” She stayed sitting. “I’m not going to bed with you, so forget it. I’d rather you just kill me now and get it over with.”
His smile turned into amusement. He wore it so well it made her blood bubble. “I was going to offer to walk you to the hut. I’ve procured a bed for you. You. I will not be with you. But knowing you would rather be put to death than give yourself to me is well noted.”
Good. Good, she was happy it was well noted. She wanted to tell him that it was because of the way he bossed and tossed her around. He was playing this whole chest-beating, authoritative jerk to the trillionth degree. She thought of Fin…and probably all the rest of them. Maybe this one wasn’t the worst of them.
“What’s your name anyway? I’m Camelee,” she added when he gave her a confused look. “You are?”
“Ulf Kristiansen. I am called Wolf.”
“Of course you are,” she said, looking him over in the soft candlelight. He was, in fact, positively wolf-like in his furs and hungry, piercing eyes.
“I didn’t mean I would literally rather be dead than—”
“Do not trouble yourself with what I think,” he overrode her. “You will address me as lord in the presence of others.”
“I will?” she scoffed.
“You will, either freely…or not.”
How could he threaten her and his voice sound so velvety and sultry that it made her mouth go dry? She was afraid of him. But for some crazy reason, she trusted him not to hurt her.
“Okay,” she said softly and stood to her feet, close to him. “What do I call you in private?”
