That day was the first she had ever stood next to him, to experience his full six and a half feet. She had seen him standing before, of course, but she had never been near him those times. And knowing he was tall was not the same as finding out just how tall. She was not a short woman herself, at least not in comparison to Saxon women, all of whom she stood well above. Here, only Kristen was taller than she was by a few inches, yet Selig was nearly a foot taller. And now that he was getting his strength back, that height was quite intimidating.
But the day she wasn’t going to forget was when he slept, late in the afternoon, with no one there to hear his nightmare begin but her. She had been about to doze herself, the weather was so hot and muggy, with no breeze coming in through the window to relieve it.
The pain-filled moan brought her eyes wide open. She had heard nothing like it since the journey south. Often she knew when Selig’s head ached, though he never made a sound. That he did now caused a certain alarm that brought her to the bed before she realized what she was doing. When it did occur to her, she turned on her heel to head back to her corner. Loki could spirit him away for all she cared. She would not lift a single finger to…
The low mumble halted her and brought her back to the bed. It took her but a second to see that he was not speaking to her, was sleeping and in the throes of an unpleasant dream that turned his head from side to side in some kind of denial. She started when his fist slammed against the bed. He would be thrashing about next.
She decided to wake him then, before he caused himself an injury. It wasn’t that it was the decent thing to do. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to see anyone suffer, even him. It was that another injury would confine her still longer in this room with him. No other reason bent her over the bed to shake his shoulder.
But closer to him, she could make out the mumbling. “No more…no more laughter. Stop it…have to.”
Erika stiffened with the realization that he was dreaming about her. He had promised she would never laugh again. That was his goal, to cause her such misery that she would neverfind joy again of any kind. But in his dream, he must not be succeeding, or he wouldn’t be so distressed.
Her urge now was to let him dream on. But that wouldn’t aid her if he did in fact hurt himself. So, grudgingly, with less care than before, due to the vast amount of vexation she was feeling, she shook him again and got results—of the unexpected kind.
His eyes opened, unfocused. His hand lifted to the back of her head. And before she could even gasp, she was being drawn to him and kissed.
It was like nothing she had ever experienced or ever dreamed of experiencing, the wonder of it felt clear to her toes. Gone was her vexation. There was no room for it with so many new emotions clamoring for attention. His lips brushed back and forth across hers, nudging, pulling, pressing, then opening a pathway for his tongue to enter.
Moist heat, silken-smooth, and a new swirl of sensations. Erika forgot to breathe. She also forgot about bracing herself and caved in against his chest.
That was probably what brought him to full wakefulness, because suddenly he was thrusting her away from him, and rolling back, she rolled right off the bed.
He sat up to glare down at her where she sat stunned on the floor. “By Thor’s sacred hammer, what in the name of creation were you doing?”
“Me?” She scrambled to her feet, so indignant she could barely speak. “All I did was try to wake you. You were having a bad dream—actually, it was probably a good dream that you just did not like.”
He drew the back of his hand across his mouth to add further insult to injury. “I recall no dream.”
Erika didn’t answer until she had likewise wiped her mouth clean of the taste of him. Then, scathingly: “Too bad.”
“I warn you, wench—”
“Do not bother,” she snapped. “You are at fault here, not I. And the next time you force a kiss on me, be warned—I will use my teeth.”
Hot color flooded his face, he was so angry—and affronted. “You may be assured there will be no next time. I would rather kiss a pig’s ass.”
That turned Erika’s face the same shade as his. “You remark my sentiments exactly.”
He threw back his blanket to leave the bed. Erika was too furious to retreat this time. Her hands went to her hips. Her chin jutted forward. That he was wearing his braies, as he had been ever since he had begun his daily exercising earlier in the week, was a blessing, but she would not have backed down had it been otherwise.
“What occurs here?”
Erika was never to learn what might have happened. After she calmed down later, she was to be grateful for that. Just now, she and Selig both turned to find his mother standing in the open doorway. She looked none too pleased.
Selig lay back against his pillows again. “A small difference of opinion, Mother,” he said on a sigh.
“Small?” She snorted. “More like loud. But I am glad to see you are able to extend yourself.”
He turned onto his elbow. His hopeful look was almost comical. “My confinement is at an end, then?”
“I suppose it must be.” She did not sound too pleased about that either. “Though I will allow a good deal of your weight has returned. You even look normal.”
Selig grinned. “What has granted me this reprieve that you are less than happy about?”
“Word has come that the king arrives within the hour. Royce feels he will wish to speak with you about the attack on your party that lost him one of his bishops. So if you feel well enough to come down to the hall—”
“I was well enough for that last week.”
