“I said naught about the interrogation. ’Twas the lashing Selig referred to.”
“But I was not even there for it!” Erika cried. “Had I still been there, it would never have occurred. Had my nephew not broken his arm, I would have stopped it in time. But I was called away. And I did not see your brother again until you did.”
“So your brother tried to tell me, but think you I would believe you over Selig? If you say it happened differently, then discuss it with him, but do not try to convince me—”
“To what purpose?” Erika cut in, her own anger mounting. “He does not believe me in what I say, any more than I believe him, anymore than you believe me.” And then she added with scathing derision, “But thank you for telling me this. I had not realized I was so—vindictive.”
Having said more than she had intended, Erika returned to the hall, leaving Kristen annoyed, yet thoughtful. One of them was lying, and, of course, it had to be Erika. But curse her eyes, how was it she could sound so very convincing—and innocent?
Kristen might have dismissed the subject entirely from her mind if Selig had not confronted her with it the next day in a direct complaint about his wife. Apparently Erika had not mentioned to him anything about the talk she and Kristen had had, yet was Erika still angry about it, enough for Selig to catch the brunt of it—without knowing why.
Storming out of his room, where he had been unable to get a single word out of his wife to explain her newest pique, he nearly collided with Kristen in the hallway and took his confusion out on her, demanding, “How can she hold a grudge so long for one little insult when I have already forgiven her for what she did to me, which was much worse?”
“Did you tell her that?” Kristen asked.
“What?”
“That you forgive her.”
The question annoyed him. “I have shown her. I asked her for a new beginning. Must I actually say the words when they are likely to be thrown back at me? She still hates me. She does not care that I no longer hate her.”
“When didthathappen?”
“What?”
“Your no longer hating her.”
He waved a dismissive hand as they continued down to the hall. “What does it matter when?”
With a sigh, she led him straight to the ale barrels and, pouring them both a healthy draught, sat him down at the nearest table. “So tell me.”
His expression turned morose. “What is to tell? She will not talk to me now.”
Kristen couldn’t resist grinning. “Some husbands would consider that a boon.”
“Save your teasing for another time, Kris. I am in no mood for it.”
“I can see that. What I cannot see is how you two can be married and not discuss what you each find most important—except with other people.” And then she saw Erika come down the stairs and, noticing them, head in their direction. But instead of warning Selig, she asked deliberately, “Would it interest you to know that she does not recall laughing, at any time, while you were at Gronwood?”
He snorted. “I do not blame her for denying it. She is a woman, after all, and what woman does not try to deny shameful behavior?”
Erika had stopped upon hearing that, but Kristen was too disgusted by his remark to quit now. “With an attitude likethat, ’tis no wonder she will not confront you about it. And yet it was her laughter that so infuriatedyou that you wanted revenge. So tell me again what you recall of it.”
He scowled at her. “I am trying to forget that. But I recall now what she claims was an insult, and it was no insult, or was not intended as such. I needed help. I wanted you there, but you were not. She was. My head ached. My sight was blurred. My thoughts would not stay with me. One moment I knew who she was and why I was chained to a wall, the next I did not. I told her I needed a bed, hers if she liked. I was not insulting her. ’Twas what women have always wanted of me, and I merely offered her the same. That was all I had to offer just then.”
Kristen did not expect the stricken look on her sister-in-law’s face, or to see her turn and run from the hall as if the damn rafters were about to fall on her. She felt rather contemptible for playing such a trick on them, no matter that she had hoped for a confrontation that would put an end to the lie, whichever one of them was responsible for it.
She decided not to mention what she had done to Selig. It was bad enough that Erika knew.
Chapter 43
ERIKA WOULD HAVErun through the gate to leave Wyndhurst, except the king’s entourage had just started arriving, and the passage was too crowded just then to get through. She moved back against the wall instead, out of the way. Leaning against the cold stones, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. She was so close to tears, it was all she could do to keep them from falling. Her guilt was back, and it was ripping her apart.
No insult intended—his way of paying for help. Did Selig really use himself like coin? Had women taught him to do that? Ah, sweet Freya, it was all a mistake; his fever and the head injury had made him act as he had. Why had she not seen it? Why couldn’t she have helped him, instead of losing her temper and hurting him more?
And why did he think she had laughed at his suffering? He really did think it. She recalled his words:I mean to see you never laugh again. She had thought, at the time, that that promise was significant, and soit was. Had that, too, been because of the fever? Had he imagined her laughter, and now thought what he remembered was real?Erika No Heart. He believed it, so how could he bear to touch her, thinking that of her? And with him believing it, how could she convince him it wasn’t true?
“You there.” She was startled from her thoughts. “Who is that Celt standing with King Alfred?”
