Erika didn’t expect to ever be happy again, but refrained from saying so. “I am not actually willing to marry him,” she said instead.
Brenna sighed. “No one supposes that you are, child. But whatever means he used to gain your consent for this wedding, be glad for it. There would eventually have been bloodshed without it.”
At the moment, Erika did not feel like being a martyr to save many lives. If her brother’s was not one of them—Nay, she was forgetting what might have happened in the stable, what had frightened her so badly that she was willing to marry a man who hated her instead.
“Here,” Brenna said as she stood up from removing the last of the shackles. She handed all three to Erika. “Put these away while I fetch you a gown. My daughter has suggested one of hers, since you are closer to her height than to that of any of the other women here.”
Another shock, Kristen doing something nice for her, and that on top of Lady Brenna’s taking Erika’s side against her son—in the matter of the chains. It was the wedding, and the fact that however unwelcome she was, she was still soon to be part of their family. But she didn’t expect these kindnesses to last beyond this day.
Brenna actually left her standing there alone while she continued down the hall to herdaughter’s chamber. And Erika held her chains in her fist. For the moment, she was as free as she had ever been here, as free as she was ever likely to be. Yet were there stone walls still between her and her brother. Freedom from chains didn’t mean she could escape her fate. She was as trapped as if she still wore them.
She returned to Selig’s chamber, taking wide steps because she could. But she didn’t move to his coffer to put the chains inside it. She walked straight to the window and tossed them out of it. And she smiled with actual pleasure for the first time since she had been taken from her home.
“This will do nicely, I think.”
Erika turned to see Brenna with a long-sleeved chainse draped over one arm, in a shade so light a blue it nigh matched her eyes. And over the other arm, a sleeveless outer gown of midnight-blue in the rare velvet prized by kings. It was trimmed in thick silver braid along the slit sides and hem, and across the deeply scooped bodice. There was also a gossamer headdress in the light blue, with a silver circlet set with sapphires to hold it in place atop her head. The girdle was wide, of brocaded silk, with more of the silver braid sewn to it.
“They are too fine,” Erika said in soft appreciation.
“Not for this occasion. We have appearances to maintain, despite the circumstances. And I heard the Saxon king say he would escort you to the groom himself.”
Why not, since he was responsible for this farce? But Erika didn’t say that. She dressed hurriedly at Brenna’s urging, and, surprisingly, with her help. Selig’s mother even combed her hair and arranged the sheer veil, and pinched her cheeks to put some color in them.
Erika wanted to thank the lady again, and in an odd way she did by saying, “I could wish you had raised a less vindictive son.”
Brenna actually smiled. “I have not raisedanyvindictive sons. When you finally see that for yourself, this battle between you and Selig will end.”
Which made not a bit of sense to Erika, but nothing did today, especially why Selig would marry her when that was the last thing he could really want to do.
She was to be even more grateful for the fine raiments Brenna had picked for her when she noted the richly garbed court ladies who were to witness the wedding. And Selig would have had her wear those ugly and ill-fitting servant’s garments—and chains. Her humiliation would have been extreme if not for the intervention of his mother and sister. Which was no doubt what he had hoped for.
Yet when she was led to him, he did not seem annoyed to see her dressed so. He was startled, certainly, before he concealed it beneath an inscrutable visage.
He waited for her, magnificent, on the steps of the small chapel which was in the bailey. The ceremony would take place there, allowing all to hear the solemn words intoned by the bishop,who stood with Selig. And the King of Wessex did indeed escort her.
Alfred was a surprise to her, as was his one remark. “You are the envy of every woman here, Lady Erika.”
The words were Danish. She was not surprised he could speak her language, with as much contact as he had had with Danes for most of his life. His age surprised her, though, for he appeared no older than Selig. And he dressed no finer than his other courtiers. In fact, she would not have known who he was if she had not heard him addressed by name.
As for his remark, any comment she would have made to it would have embarrassed them both, for she did not feel very charitable at the moment. So she made none, and kept to herself that she would gladly let any woman there trade places with her. Envy? They did not know Selig Haardrad as she did. They knew only his charming side, which she could not deny she had seen, though not experienced, while she knew only what cruelties he was capable of.
And that would not change just because he could now call her wife. That designation merely offered him more opportunities to make her miserable.
The ceremony was over much too quickly. In fact, no more than an hour had passed from his telling her they would marry to their becoming, officially, man and wife. And she realized only afterward that she had been given no time to really think about what she had agreed to. Without such haste, she might have…
But it was done. She had a husband now. And examining that thought too closely would likely lead to hysterics.
The celebration feast that followed was a mockery as far as Erika was concerned. She had nothing to celebrate, and neither did Selig, yet they sat through it, side by side, enduring the good-natured jests and crudities that typically accompanied a wedding. In fact, everyone was enjoying himself, except the newly married pair.
Even Selig’s family was in high good cheer, which Erika found strange, since she had come to understand that they all cared for him a great deal. It was the atmosphere, she supposed, and the fact that Selig didn’t look nearly as gloomy as she did. Could they actually think he was pleased with the outcome of the day, and were happy for him? Obviously, he was merely putting a fine face on it for their benefit.
Selig downed yet another tankard of ale. He had given up trying to keep track of the constant swing of his emotions. And he had given up trying to ignore hiswife.
She was not to have sat beside him until she called him master, yet here she sat. But she would be calling him husband now, and were they not one and the same, master, husband? They were supposed to be, butshewould never think so.
He could have had any woman he wanted—anyone but this one. And yet he had this one. She was most definitely his now. He just didn’tknow what to do with her now that she had gone from slave to wife.
Had he really agreed never to touch his own wife? But he hadn’t agreed to forgo his revenge. He would still have that. Wasn’t that why he had married her?
