The younger brothers, Eric and Thorall, were neither one as handsome as Selig, which didn’t say they weren’t very handsome men. They were each a score in years, Eric mayhap a few years more than that, and they both took aftertheir father as Kristen did, with tawny golden manes, eyes a distinct shade of aqua, and his extreme height.
Erika tried to ignore their presence, but it was next to impossible, especially when what was most interesting was Selig’s behavior. To see him with them was to see a different man, one who laughed and teased and bore teasing in return with more laughter. This, on top of the sensual charm he had displayed earlier with the pretty Edith, led her to revise her opinion of him somewhat.
There were certainly more facets to his character than she had thought, though this did not relieve her mind in any way. Rather, it was disconcerting to find that a man who appeared to have such an easy nature could also harbor such a deeply rooted streak of cruelty.
She finished with her hair. Selig had watched her work with it. Most times through the evening, when she had glanced his way, he had been looking elsewhere, deep in his thoughts. Not since she had begun with her hair. And his eyes were still on her, without expression, telling her nothing of what was running through his mind.
His steady gaze was making her edgy. She wanted to sleep. The hour was late enough for it. And a blanket had been left for her earlier, when her own clothes had been taken away. Those she wore now were of the coarsest variety, but no more than she had expected.
She also expected to be retied, and wondered why no one had come to do so. Notfor a moment did she think she would be left free for the night. And she wondered why no one had come to put out the lights. Should she offer to do it? Nay, she would offer nothing, would do nothing she wasn’t forced to do. She wasn’t here to be helpful and wouldn’t be, not if she could do otherwise.
The question came from her edginess, her tiredness, anything to break the nerve-racking silence. “The coffer is yours?”
“Aye.”
“You live here, then?”
“I have my own hall a short ways west from here. ’Tis newly built, though, and certainly not as comfortable as Wyndhurst. This is my chamber, however, whenever I stay with my sister.”
“How long do you intend to stay here?”
His expression turned wry. “I doubt me I will have much say in my leaving. Kristen feels the few slaves I have will not take care of me properly. Unfortunately, my mother is like to agree with her.”
The mention of his “slaves” ended the brief conversation for Erika and brought her temper rising. She shook out her blanket, wrapped herself tightly in it, and lay down to face the wall.
But what she had started, he meant to finish. “Mayhap you know how to care for an invalid?”
“You are not an invalid,” she gritted out. “There is naught wrong with you that food and rest will not fix right quickly.”
“Were that the case, my pain would be gone,” he replied. “It is not.”
Erika squeezed her eyes shut tight against the guilt those words brought back. She had ordered an injuredandinnocent man lashed. She had added pain to considerable pain. He deserved his full wergild price. He deserved an apology, which she had yet to offer. He deserved her understanding for what he was putting her through—Nay. She had only to recall how much pleasure he got in humiliating her to decide all he would get from her was the wergild.
He said no more. Neither did she. A short while later she had started to doze off, despite the discomfort of her hard bed, when she heard the chains rattle.
She opened her eyes and turned to see Ivarr coming across the room toward her. Alarm struck her first, and she sat up, then realized he must be there to tie her. He had done so on more than one night before. She relaxed, only to hear the chains again.
The alarm was back, worse. Her eyes flew to his hands and widened. He held chains, all right, replete with shackles, a great many of them.
Selig spoke before Ivarr bent to her. “Are they to my specifications?”
“Exactly. The smith got two others to help him and has worked all day. He only just finished.”
“Did you test them?”
“Aye,” Ivarr replied. “The links held firm, despite their thinness.”
“Good. Then bring her here.”
Ivarr lifted a brow, since Selig had risen as he said it. “You had better not let Lady Brenna see you sitting up like that. The word is out, she is not letting you out of bed for a fortnight.”
Selig ignored the warning completely. “Bring her, Ivarr. I want to put those shackles on myself.”
Ivarr shrugged his compliance. Erika drew back as he reached for her, but she had nowhere to cringe to. Without strain, he was able to yank her up and drag her toward the bed, even with her holding back with every ounce of strength she possessed.
She didn’t actually fight him, though the urge was powerfully strong to do so. She knew how pointless that would be. They would have her chained anyway, and also be pleased to know how much she loathed the idea. So she didn’t fight, and only Ivarr could feel her resistance.
To Selig she showed an indifferent expression. He wasn’t going to know how frightened she was. Chains were so permanent, so unbreakable, freedom so completely at the whim of one’s captor. Ropes offered a slim chance at escape. Chains offered none.
