She had driven him past his endurance the other night. He had returned to the hall to retire, but he should never have stopped to look at her, for he was caught, mesmerized by her slow, sensuous movements, watching her hand rise to her face to smooth back a tawny lock of hair, seeing her stretch, her back arch, her breasts thrust forward, more firmly outlined. It was as if an invisible line had been thrown out to lure him in, for he moved toward her without conscious thought, and nothing could have stopped him from tasting those enticing lips when he finally reached her.
He would like to think she was a witch, or mayhap a Viking priestess, with a special magic divined from her many gods. That would certainly explain his dilemma: how he could loathe her and want her at the same time. She stirred emotions in him that he did not understand. It should not bother him if she suffered, but it did. It should not matter to him that she was a whore, but it did. He even became irrational every time he thought of the many men she had lain with, possibly every man from the ship, so he tried not to think of it. But now to know that she had cared for one more than all the others, enough to want revenge for his death, inflamed him even more.
He had asked Thorolf who this Selig was. But the wily Viking had answered with another question, asking who Kristen had said he was. It was obvious he would get no confidences from her companions, so Royce had said no more. It was as Kristen said. He would learn only what she wanted him to know, and she was through telling him anything.
“If you do not want to finish the game, Royce, say so.”
“What?”
“I finished my turn hours ago.”
Royce sat forward, swiping up the dice. “Do not exaggerate, Cousin. And I have things on my mind.”
“You have often of late been deeply thoughtful. Of course, ’tis no wonder with all that has happened this summer. And now we have word that the King is coming for a visit, but he does not say when he will arrive.”
“He will come when he comes.” Royce grunted. “That does not concern me.”
“Nay? Then you must still be worried about the prisoners,” Alden speculated. “Or is it only one prisoner who has been on your mind?”
“Who is that?”
“Who, indeed?” Alden laughed. “Come now, Royce. Why did you not tell me she was so incredibly lovely?”
“Tell me something, Alden. She has tried to kill you twice. How can you laugh about her?”
“She has her reasons, I imagine, but even so, who could despise such a beautiful woman?”
“I can.”
“Can you? Why? Surely you do not blame her for what the Danes did? She is not a Dane.”
“You forget her companions came here to raid and kill, too, and would have laid waste to Wyndhurst if you had not stopped them in the forest.”
A small voice intruded on their conversation. “They would have passed by here.”
Royce and Alden both glanced toward Meghan, who had come quietly to stand near their table to watch them play. Royce frowned, but quickly smoothed his features out when Meghan lowered her eyes from him.
Gently he asked, “Why do you say that, midget?”
She peeked up at him, then came closer when she saw he was not angry with her for interrupting them. “Kristen told me so. She said they were after Jurro monastery, and that only as a lark.”
“When did you speak to her?”
“The day after she was brought in the hall.”
“Did she tell you aught else, Meghan?”
“Many things. She talked about her family. She said her father is even taller than you and he has a terrible temper, too.” Meghan stopped, realizing what she had unwittingly stated. “I did not mean to imply—”
“Of course you did,” Alden teased her with a grin, pulling her onto his lap. “We all know what a terrible temper your brother has.”
Royce smiled at her to show he was not angry. “Go on, midget. What else did the wench tell you?”
“You are not revealing secrets, are you, Meghan?” Alden continued to tease.
“Alden!” Royce snapped impatiently.
“Oh-ho, that interested, are you?”
