“Ivarr is bringing food, Kris,” Thorolf told her, though his eyes were on Selig, on his sunken belly in particular. “Thor’s teeth, it will take buckets to fill up that hole.”
“More than that, I fear,” Kristen answered.
Their voices had stirred Selig, and his waking groan had them each wincing. But it also disturbed Kristen that Erika had heard it, too. Selig wouldn’t like it that the woman he despised should see him like this, and knowing that, Kristen liked it even less.
So she said, a bit more irritably than intended, “Take her out of here, Thorolf. See to her needs or whatever, but keep her away from here. And you may untie her, but do not let her out of your sight for a second if you do. I will fetch her back after I have tended Selig.”
Erika gasped as Thorolf’s long arm simply reached in and yanked her out of the wagon. He did indeed untie her, so he would not have to carry her, telling her plainly, “I would as soon not touch you, so do not give me a reason to.”
But he would not leave her side either, not for a second, so she declined his surly offer to escort her into the bushes, even though she had need to go there. For the moment, her mortification was worse than her need, because she knew he would give her no privacy. But she had no idea what she would do when her need became the greater.
And that was her only need he was willing to see to. She realized that when he shoved her down next to him in front of a fire that had been lit for their camp and began to partake of the food that had been obtained from the village nearby, without offering her a single morsel.
She was not surprised. The hostility radiating from him was so powerful she could feel it even when she was not looking at him. And the same came from every other man she happened to notice, Saxon and Viking alike.
But she had seen Thorolf’s expression when he had stared at Selig’s sunken belly. The blame for his deterioration was being given to her personally, rather than to the fever he had had, so she was going to be dealt with in kind. To be denied food was actually the least of her fears, for she had the sinking suspicion that Lady Kristen had not even noticed thecondition of her brother’s back yet, and there was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she imagined what was going to happen when she did.
Chapter 13
KRISTEN WAS SHOVELINGthe thick stew down Selig’s throat with such speed, she was not giving him a chance to chew it, much less swallow it. When he had trouble breathing as well, he finally had to turn his head aside to say around a mouthful, “Blast it, Kris, I swear to you, how fast you feed me will have no effect on how quickly I recover.”
He was surprised he would say that, as ravenous as he was, with his urge to wolf the food down the same as hers, to get it into him the soonest. Yethewould rather be doing it, had tried doing it, but his arm had grown tired and trembling after only a few attempts.
The weakness was making him testy, of course. It absolutely infuriated him that he could not do for himself. And he could only hope that itwasfrom lack of nourishment, rather than from some strange malady related to his head injury that might not go away, just as the pain refused to go away. The thought that he might never be the same again was not so terrifying as itwas simply unacceptable. And that he was even weaker than before was not encouraging.
He could not believe how much that earlier short trip from his prison to the wagon, even with the giant Turgeis’s support, had drained what little strength he had gained from his one night of undisturbed sleep. But the sleep he had just wakened from had restored him somewhat, at least enough so that when he spoke, he did not sound like he was dying.
Kristen was waiting patiently for his mouth to open again, no apology forthcoming for her overeagerness, none expected. But he asked, before he accepted the next bite, “Where is Royce?”
“Still in Wessex, I would imagine.”
Selig stopped chewing in his surprise. He had assumed his brother-in-law was merely busy somewhere in the camp, not that he was not in the camp at all.
“He actually let you come for me without him?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “He was not there for me to tell him my intentions.”
Selig digested that for a moment, then said simply, “He will be angry.”
She tried to appear unconcerned, shrugging. “I suppose he will.”
“Veryangry.”
She glared at him now. “Iknow, brother, so belabor the point no further. ’Tis my worry, not yours. Now tell me all that ails you so I can apprise the healer—”
“Nay—if you love me, no more healers,” he cut in and actually shuddered. “The one just done with me called herself such, but all she did was force poison on me that let no food reach my belly.”
“Then youweregiven food?”
“Aye, but none that would stay down me long enough to do any good, thanks to that old witch.”
Kristen nodded thoughtfully. “The Dane said you were purged to rid you of the fever, and it must have worked, for you are cool to the touch now.”
“My fever was not so great—” He paused, those long hours of confusion and pain such a muddle in his mind. The delirium, the poison, the laughter. “At least not the last I recall of it,” he amended.
“You had it the whole three days you were at Gronwood?” she asked.
“Three?”
