Erika leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to ignore what was happening on the large bed. Her thoughts drifted, as anxious as they had been since her capture. Nothing had occurred to relieve her fears. Arriving at such a well-fortified manor, with strong, high stone walls surrounding it, only increased them.
Turgeis wouldn’t be so close now. Gone was the hope that he could steal into camp late of a night and whisk her away to safety. The stone walls here would be amply guarded, the gates locked at night. And Turgeis wasn’t a man who could slip through gates unnoticed, day or night.
She could only wait for her brother now, and she knew not how long that might be. She wouldn’t tolerate the thought that Selig would kill him, as he had claimed. Ragnar would bring pressure to bear instead and she would be released. She had to cling to that hope.
There had been no more unnerving “talks”with her nemesis, nor had she been forced to ride in the wagon with him again. When they abandoned the conveyance that third morn, she had been made to ride behind Ivarr on his great charger. She wasn’t sure which was more unpleasant.
Even worse than Thorolf was Ivarr, in his cold condemnation of her. And riding with him had put a strain on every muscle she possessed, trying to keep from touching him. She had discovered that, as Thorolf was Kristen’s closest friend in this land, aside from her family, Ivarr was Selig’s. Knowing that, she supposed the hate he bore her was understandable. It just wasn’t very palatable for her.
That journey had not been an easy one by any means. Aside from the uncertain future which was so fearful, she had the constant worry that Kristen would abandon her completely to Selig’s supervision, especially once her husband joined them. Not so. Erika’s plea that first night had worked, and the Norsewoman continued to come and collect her each time she herself had to answer nature’s call.
One of those times Erika had even tried to reach through Kristen’s dislike of her to what common sense the woman must possess, to remind her of consequences yet to be met that could still be avoided.
“My brother will come for me,” she had told her. “Even if he and I were not close, he would come.”
“Aye, I suppose he will. But he will not have you back unlessmybrother chooses torelease you. You may not want to go back by then.”
Erika had been able to think of only one reason she might not want to go home—a tarnished virtue. “You mean he will rape me?”
Kristen had snorted. “Rape a woman he hates? That is one thing you need not fear.”
“Then why would I not wish to go home?”
Kristen had shrugged. “Because ’tis likely you will come to love him.”
Erika not only had been incredulous, she had very nearly laughed at the absurdity of such a notion. “Love a man who means to harm me? How could you think it?”
“Therein would be a fitting punishment, would it not?”
“It cannot happen.”
“Do not say cannot. ’Tis more like you will not be able to help yourself. They never even try.”
“They?”
“All the women who love him.”
All the women who love him.
An unusual statement, until you considered how unusual the man was in his looks. Erika had no fear that she would come to be included in that “all,” but she was surprised to discover firsthand so many who were.
A number of them had been traipsing in and out of this very room. A few almost came to blows over who would fetch what for Selig. And yet this was a man with no warmth in him that Erika could see, no compassion or forgiveness, certainly no mercy. How couldso many women be so shallow, to love a man merely for his handsomeness, even as remarkable as his was?
Only the mother and one elderly servant remained in the room when Erika took note of it again. Selig had been covered, was still on his stomach, with his eyes closed, possibly asleep, since the two women were now whispering. They were preparing to leave the room, gathering up the cloths that had been used to clean Selig, the bucket of water, the jar of soft soap, what food remained.
Erika held her breath, still hoping to go unnoticed. It was not to happen. In fact, both women came directly toward her, stopping at her feet. Obviously, they had been aware of her all along.
“I am Brenna Haardrad, Selig’s mother.”
Her voice was stiff. Her expression, of strong dislike, Erika was quite accustomed to by now. It was mirrored in the servant’s face.
“So I guessed,” Erika replied.
“He has told me what happened—and your part in it.”
“Did he say what his revenge is to be?”
“I would give you a lashing to equal the one you gave him—to begin with. Had I been there to see him when he was released, I would have killed you. But then, that is the way of hot tempers, is it not? Quick to act, with regrets come too late. I must commend my daughter for her restraint.”
