“Ihavebeen in your place, Dane. I was a prisoner, with most of these Vikings you see here in chains alongside me, and most of these very Saxons guarding us. Think you I had any privacy?”
So that had been true also, what Selig had said about his sister marrying her captor. And those previous prisoners and previous guards now rode together as comrades-in-arms? Erika still could not fathom how that could come about; she wanted to ask, but did not dare.
She said only, “Please!”
But it was said with enough desperation that Kristen growled, “Bah,” and jerked her to her feet. “If I did not feel the need myself…”
Erika felt only relief, not even caring how Kristen’s fingers, nigh as strong as a man’s, bit into her arm as she was pulled behind her long stride. Yet Kristen halted just short of theconcealing shrubbery, her eyes scanning the shadows beyond, and Erika groaned inwardly, thinking the woman had changed her mind.
So it came as a surprise to merely hear, “The giant, is he your husband?”
Erika didn’t think to lie. “He is my shadow, has been since the day I saved his life when I was yet a child. I am as a daughter to him.”
“And you believe he is out there?”
Now she did think to lie, but couldn’t see much point in it after what she had said earlier. “I would be surprised if he is not,” she admitted. “’Tis rarely that I am ever beyond his hearing or sight.”
“Hearing and sight will do him no good,” Kristen replied. “What you are is beyond his reach, even should he follow all the way to Wessex.”
So saying, she called to one of the men who was near and told him to gather five others and spread out beyond the area she intended to enter. She was taking no chances with her prisoner, and her prisoner’s cheeks were flaming again.
Kristen, seeing that, mumbled contemptuously, “Too missish by half.”
Erika heard her and stiffened in reflex. “I cannot help it.”
“Then you would be wise to get over it,” Kristen shot back. “When my brother is done with you, embarrassment will be the least of your woes.”
It sounded like a promise to Erika’s ears. The Norsewoman might content herself, imagining what her brother was going to do, but Erika was going to drive herself mad with those same imaginings. She had to escape. Shehadto. But how, when one or more pairs of eyes would always be on her?
Chapter 14
ERIKA COULDN’T SAYwhat had roused her from her sleep, but when she opened her eyes the next morn, it was to see a pair of legs standing near her right shoulder. They were long legs, thickly male in mesh chausses and calf-length boots of finely worked leather. Trying to see what else went with them was a mistake, however, that brought a wince and a sharp gasp of pain.
She had forgotten her position, tied tight to the large wagon wheel at her back, with thick rope wrapped round and round her waist, chest, and throat to make sure she would still be sitting there come morn, and so she was. She remembered trying to keep her head straight, but it must have rolled to the side once she slept, and now her neck muscles were screaming in complaint.
For that matter, she detected no feeling in her hands and lower arms, which were secured at her back. But that was mayhap a blessing, for she also recalled trying to work her hands loose of the thinner rope that bound them. It had been a much coarser rope, to discouragejust such an attempt, yet she had still tried to pull loose of it, and had scraped her skin raw in the attempt. Her feet were also numb, the thin hose on one ankle torn by the rope where she had tried the same loosening effort on her feet, without success.
The man was forgotten for the moment while she took stock of all her discomforts. She kept her tongue away from the raw meat on the inside of her cheek, fearing what pain that would bring with the numbness worn off there. And she twisted her head around slowly, working out the kinks until she could turn it without wincing. That, at least, she could manage, and finally tilted her head back far enough to look up at the silent man next to her.
He hadn’t moved once from his wide-legged stance. She saw the sword still in its scabbard, the short, single-edged knife called thescramasaxthat Saxons used to finish off a felled opponent. It was tucked into a wide, metal-studded belt with a single garnet at the center of its buckle. A green tunic ended at his wrists, but was covered by a short-sleeved mail shirt with thicker chain links than the chausses. The shoulders were very wide for the narrowness shown by the tightly cinched belt at his waist.
Powerful arms were crossed over his chest. Dark brown hair fell a ways over his shoulders. Deepest green eyes were looking down at her, and not without expression. She was not sure what emotion rode his features, but whatever it was, it was close to violence.
That alone did not bring her second gasp when her gaze rose far enough to see it. Some of her surprise came from how very handsome he was—and so tall. She would have taken him for a Saxon if not for his height, which surely topped her own brother’s by a half foot. And she didn’t recognize him, for she had made a point of looking over all the men in the camp yesterday, in the hopes of finding at least one with a kindly face. She had had no luck there, but she would have remembered this man had she seen him.
Though he looked down on her, he was not facing her, he was facing the wagon. And although she knew he could not see inside it with the hide cover pulled over it, he could see partially under it, to where the Norsewoman slept on, blissfully unaware of him.
Erika remembered how annoyed she had been that the other woman was going to sleep so near to her, just on the other side of the wheel, so she would hear Erika’s slightest stirring. Even with men set to sentry duty and told to keep their eyes on Erika the while they also watched for the giant, Kristen had still remained close with her dagger in hand.
Just now the warrior sister was twisted about, with her unbound hair spread out on the ground beyond the edge of the wagon, making her impossible to miss. And, in fact, one of the man’s boots was planted firmly on that tawny length of hair, by accident or…Not by accident. He was patiently waiting for the Norsewoman to move, thereby pulling her ownhair, which would be certain to wake her.
Erika’s eyes widened when she saw that, and brought her third gasp with the conclusion she drew. Sweet Freya, the man was an enemy of these people, could be no other thing with the rage so clearly writ across his handsome face, not just for her, not even for her, but definitely for the sister. And if he could have come into the camp without being stopped, why hadn’t Turgeis tried it?
The camp? She looked out to see if all were dead, but none were. In fact, the men were all stirring, some eating, some seeing to the horses, a great many looking toward the wagon. The man was no enemy, then, was one of them, but whence came the anger? And why didn’t it disturb the others to see it directed at their lady?
“Ouch!”
Kristen had finally moved enough that she pulled her hair. Her head turned to see what she was caught on, saw the foot, and followed it up to see who would dare. Aqua eyes flared wide, but in the next instant, her dagger flashed out to swipe at the leg within reach.
