When Erika came down to the hall the next morning, she was ready to do some apologizing herself. She had ruined what had been an incredibly beautiful experience last night; at least for her it had been. Her question could have waited for some other time. She had even gotten the answer she wanted, and still she had let her temper spoil things.
Did she prefer the hostility between them? So Selig must think. She wasn’t sure herself. She had let passion take over yesterday, let it disregard all that had passed between them and made it seem of little import. He had despised her, still might. He had wanted revenge against her and never really got it. Did she honestly think he could forget all that and what he had suffered because of her? For that matter, how was she to forget the chains, the humiliations, and the worst, being tricked into marriage?
For all she knew, he could have let his passion guide him last night just as she had, and now regretted having come to her. Still, she did owe him an apology, at least for last night. But as for a new beginning, she didn’t think it was possible. As had happened last night, the past would continue to resurface and get in the way of any progress made.
On the other hand, her marriage had now been consummated. She had been shown one of the benefits of marriage, and it was an extremely nice benefit. Which left her with anew dilemma. Did she accept this unexpected benefit—theonlyone, as she saw it—and hope that children might come of it? She was not, after all, much different from most women, married to men for expediency and never really happy about it. Could she forget that she could have had much more from a marriage if she had not been forced into this one?
Her only recourse would be to hug her resentment to herself and deny Selig his marital rights—if he would allow that. That was supposing, of course, that his regret was not so great that he wouldn’t come to her again. And verily, why should he when he had women like Lida available to him?
Mayhap she wouldn’t apologize after all.
Turgeis had waited for her in his chamber, leaving the door open so he would hear her, spending the time sharpening his weapons. He followed her down to the hall now with no more than a grunt in greeting. Typical, yet had she expected more from him this morn, since he was aware that Selig had come to her last night, just as he was aware that he had not come all those other nights.
The hall was nigh empty, the hour was so late—she had overslept. As usual, Turgeis went to a different table to break his fast. Erika, preferring to have company today, even silent company, broke their custom and joined him.
“You should not,” was all he said.
She ignored him. Golda, who had also heard him, did not. “She is the lady here,” she said with sharp scolding. “She can do as she likes.”
That wasn’t exactly true, though it certainly sounded nice to Erika. Turgeis made no comment, just glared at the woman until she moved off.
Erika hid a smile beneath her hand. She had noticed that Golda seemed to single Turgeis out for complaints or ridicule, and by the look of him, he was getting mighty annoyed by it. That he never said anything to her in reply or defense was just his way.
He caught Erika watching him and grunted. “That woman is a harridan.”
She revealed her grin now, teasing, “Mayhap she just likes you, to single you out so.”
He blushed at the suggestion. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her friend blush before. And his eyes sought out Golda again and somehow looked at her differently this time. Erika’s own eyes widened. She had been teasing, but what if she was right?
She looked at Golda again, too, and wondered if she ought to try, one more time, to speak to a woman on Turgeis’s behalf. Nay, she had enough troubles of her own. And Golda’s attitude wasn’t exactly encouraging. Besides, Turgeis could do something about it ifhewas interested.
When they were near done with their meal, she asked him, “Do you know where Selig is this morn?”
“Working on the wall.”
She should have guessed. If Selig was not over at Wyndhurst, then he was working on the defenses here, and so it had been all week.
She had been told that the feast he had planned to celebrate the completion of his hall was now being put off until the outer wall was finished. At the rate the wall was going up, that feast might be sometime next week.
She was not looking forward to it herself, not being certain of her role in it, and certainly not having anything she wished to celebrate. But everyone else here was, which gave both servants and warriors alike the incentive to get the wall finished the soonest; in fact, everyone was working on it, even Turgeis, as long as Erika remained outside where he could see her.
She didn’t do so often, at least not when Selig was there, for the simple reason that the weather was so warm, the men would strip down to their leggings by midday. And it didn’t matter that there were dozens of bare chests to look at—the sight of Selig’s bare chest always disturbed her. It was no wonder she had succumbed so easily last night. She had been primed for it without realizing it.
But the hour was still early enough that she didn’t expect to see any bare skin yet, so it was safe to seek out her husband and, depending on his own reaction to her appearance, request a private word to tender her apology for losing her temper last night. If his regret was obvious, however, then she would say nothing. That would, after all, be the end of it, and today would be no different from yesterday, when she had assumed he was sleeping withLida and could have cheerfully murdered the unfaithful wretch.
She waited until Turgeis finished eating, because she knew he would follow her outside, and so he did. And Selig was easy to find, not actually working on the wall with the rest of the men, but on the gate, which was being put together in the center of the yard, the master builder on loan from Royce standing there directing. But there was one other there helping, if what Lida was doing could be called help.
Selig, bent over the frame of the gate, hammering, seemed not to be paying the woman any mind, yet how could he not? She was bent over him, actually leaning against his hips and back to reach his shoulders, which she was apparently massaging. But it looked to Erika like she was doing no more than caressing him—with both her body and her hands.
Had she witnessed this yesterday, she would simply have turned around and returned to the hall, keeping her feelings to herself even had she choked on them. But after last night, she didn’t feel like keeping quiet. The man had lied to her to break down her defenses. One woman was not enough for him—even a dozen were not enough. He had to bed his wife, too, and lie to do it.
She couldn’t contain herself. She screeched at the top of her lungs, turning heads and stopping all work. Then she picked up her skirts and ran to the hall, not to retreat, but to find a weapon. She was going to geld thatbastard she was married to, then pin his leman to the rafters by her hair.
“Erika!”
She didn’t stop, though it sounded as if Selig had given chase. She was sure of it when he called again, much closer, and although she had just entered the hall, she knew she would never make it up the stairs to Turgeis’s store of weapons before he reached her. Those damn long legs. She needed an immediate weapon, but there was nothing in the entire hall suitable to ward him off. All the tables had been cleared already, except the one where she and Turgeis had eaten.
She rounded that table now to put it between them and grabbed whatever came to hand. She threw what remained of the meal, both wooden bowls that still had dregs of porridge in them, a smattering of bread and cheese, the spoons, the saltcellar—all went sailing through the air toward Selig’s head. If she could have lifted the bench, she would have thrown that, too.
