He glowered at her for a moment before he shoved himself to his feet, drawing her up with him by her collar ring. He didn’t take the chain that hung down between her breasts, other than to drape it once around her neck so she wouldn’t trip on it.
“To bite a man’s leg is to invite what you got,” he said stiffly.
“Put me to my knees again, and I will see if I can aim for a different part of you.”
His face got a little hotter, as did his anger. “You were like a bitch in heat,” he reminded her.
“And you desired a woman you profess to hate!” she shot back.
It wasn’t the wisest thing to do, to taunt him with his own shame. His finger went back through her collar ring to lift her until their noses almost touched.
In a low, menacing voice he said, “I do despise you, wench, never doubt it. I despise you and the ice that runs through your veins.” And then he smiled nastily. “Except it runs hot when a man touches you, does it not?”
She should be grateful he had merely thrown the same taunt back at her. She was still too angry for gratitude—or to retreat.
“At least I do not make excuses, or place the blame elsewhere.”
He let go of her with a slight shove, saying in a barely controlled hiss, “Return to my chamber, wench. I will send Eda to assist you. Your excursion below can wait for another day.”
“When your mother will not be certain it was I you were rutting with?”
She didn’t wait to see ifthatbarb drew blood. And in fact, she did leave him there seething—and still so aroused he ached with it. He stayed there for several minutes, trying to gather some calm. It wouldn’t come. And it wasn’t toward the stairs that he finally headed.
He came to the open doorway—she had been unable to close it herself when she entered—to see her sitting in her corner, her head bent to her upraised knees so that her hair cloaked most of her nakedness. The sight of her dejected pose so affected him, he kicked the doorframe, thenswore viciously because he was wearing his soft-skinned boots today. How did she dare make him feel sorry for her at the same time that his passions were aroused?
He had drawn her attention. There weren’t tears in the powder-blue eyes that looked toward him, but the fire of her anger was no longer there to sustain his. Misery was what he saw, or thought he saw, and he had never been able to witness it in women without wanting to rid them of it. He left before he did something stupid, like comfort this one.
Chapter 26
IT HAD BEENtoo much to hope that his mother would keep to herself what she had seen in the upstairs hall. Not long after the men returned from the hunt, Selig’s father was lifting his brow at him and shaking his head, and Royce laughed outright when their eyes met.
At least he was certain they didn’t know whom he had lost his head over, which would have made his embarrassment much worse. But he was sure his own body had blocked Erika from his mother’s sight.
It was time he moved into his own home, and not because he required more privacy. Wyndhurst was simply too crowded right now, and he had recovered enough that he was definitely in need of a woman. What had happened with the Dane was proof of that. But with the rest of his family visiting, there wasn’t an empty room to be found in which a man might dally undisturbed—even his own.
He could, of course, move his captive elsewhere for the time being. There was no specific purpose why she must be kept in his own chamber, except that that was where hewanted her to be—and for some reason, he slept peacefully with her near. Even the return of his carnal appetites didn’t take precedence over that.
He could blame that return on what had happened with the Dane, however, and on the fact that he hadn’t had a woman since he had left for East Anglia. But what could explain his insistence on stripping her bare, when the last time he had seen her thusly had warned him not to do so again? He had known it would come to that.
He had known her pride wouldn’t let her utter the word “master.” And he had known what it would do to him to see her like that again. Certainly it would have been a fine revenge—if it wouldn’t have affected him personally.
So why had he done it, looked forward to it, enjoyed it more than warranted? For that matter, with so many lovely ladies in the king’s party to draw his interest, why had it been so difficult for him to stay away from his own chamber these past days?
Obviously, this revenge business was consuming too much of his energy. He was becoming obsessive about it—and her. But he derived such pleasure from having Erika of Gronwood in his power, having her at hand to bedevil, seeing her eyes flash with impotent fury. What had happened in the hall with her was unrelated to that. What had happened in the hall shouldn’t have happened, wouldn’t happen again.
He needed to return to his own home, where he had other things to occupy his mind—thenew slaves to train, defenses to begin building now that the house was complete. He would make the announcement on the morrow, and withstand all objections from the females in his family—somehow.
Which was what he would have done if Ragnar Haraldsson had not arrived late that afternoon.
Word was brought immediately to Royce of the Danish army amassing before his gates. Unfortunately, the man who brought the information was in something of a panic and simply blurted it out, where those closest could hear. Only Kristen was at Royce’s table at the moment—along with the king.
Alfred rose abruptly at the news. Royce had to quickly assure him, “They are not here for you, my lord. This was anticipated. They are here for the lady my wife captured for her brother.”
“Her brother?” Alfred looked to where Selig was being entertained across the hall, with a bevy of women vying for his attention. “That handsome wretch who has seduced every woman in my court?”
Royce could not quite keep his grin back. Alfred was only a couple of years older than Selig, which was to say he was young enough to appreciate the ladies—and be a bit envious of the kind of success Selig was accustomed to.
“I doubt me he has gotten toeveryone,” Royce commented dryly.
