She glared at him, but she stuck her feet out before he decided to take the choice out of her hands. She was still glaring at him when he stood up again, wrapping the chain about his neck to hold one iron band in each hand.
“I want to make love to you, Kristen.” His voice turned husky. “I suppose you will deny me because you are angry, but I will ask you anyway. Will you come to my bed?”
“Nay,” she muttered stonily, ignoring the responsive chord his tone and words stirred deep within her.
“I could insist.”
“Then you will find out what ’tis like to have me fight you, Saxon.”
She heard him sigh before he said rather gruffly, “I will hope you get over your anger quickly, wench.”
Royce left then, and this time Kristen heard the door being locked.
Chapter Twenty
“What did you do to my cousin, wench, to put him in such a foul mood?”
Kristen gave Alden only a cursory glance. He had come to stand on the opposite side of the worktable from her, the first time he had come near her since she had attacked him. His company was not welcome.
“I am not responsible for his moods,” she said surlily.
“Nay?” Alden grinned. “I have seen the way he watches you. You are indeed responsible.”
“Go away, Saxon,” she retorted, fixing him with a hard look. “You and I have naught to say to each other.”
“So you still want to kill me?”
“Want to? ’Tis something I am bound to do.”
He gave a mock sigh. ’Tis a shame we cannot be friends. I could give you good advice on how to handle my cousin, for you do not seem to be doing so well on your own.”
“I want no advice!” she snapped. “And I do not want to handle him. I want naught to do with him!”
“Mayhap, but I have seen you watching him, too. Such lustful looks that pass between you and—”
“Curse you!” She cut him off furiously. “I swear you must be Loki’s kin. Get away from me, before I throw this dough at your head!”
Alden chuckled as he walked away. Kristen pounded angrily at the dough she was making. How dare that man tease her? Did he think she was not serious in wanting his death? She was serious. She did not care if he had such an amiable nature. Nor did it make any difference to her that she had learned he was indirectly responsible for her and the others still being alive. It didn’t matter either that he reminded her of her brother Eric with his teasing charm and his boyish smile. She was going to kill him—if she ever got free again.
Her long, thick braid had fallen over her shoulder and she angrily whipped it back behind her. It was the middle of summer now, and the hottest weather Kristen had ever known. At home she would be out swimming with Tyra, or racing across fields on Torden’s back, with the breeze whipping through her hair. She certainly wouldn’t be stuck near a hearth that burned all day long. She had so many regrets, but the “should have done’s” only served to remind her that she was here by her own design.
It had been a little more than a month since the ship had anchored on the river that disastrous morning. Occasionally Kristen saw Thorolf and the others through an open window as they came and went to their labor on the wall. They could not see her, though, in the far corner of the hall where she was.
Kristen knew they probably still worried about her; at least Ohthere and Thorolf would. They should have escaped by now. She hoped the thought of leaving her behind was not preventing them, but it was more likely that Royce and his cursed precautions made it impossible.
She had considered asking Royce if she could speak to them, but Alden was right. Royce’s mood had been foul this last week since she had refused to share his bed, and his answer to her, about anything, would undoubtedly be nay. His orders to his men were sharp, his looks dark. His sister and the servants stayed well away from him and were unusually quiet, so as not to draw his attention. Was she responsible for his short temper?
She would like to think so, but did not credit herself with that much sway over him. It was true that he came each night to ask her to share his bed, and each night she held tight to her resentment and refused him. Somehow Alden must have learned about this. Mayhap he had heard Royce’s voice raised in anger by her door one of these last few nights, for his patience with her was definitely wearing thin. Or mayhap he was just interpreting the looks Royce gave her, as he said.
It was doubtful that Royce would actually discuss her with his cousin. Why should he? She was just a wench he was attracted to at the moment, enough to want in his bed, but not enough to mention to his family. He would not admit such an attraction to a slave, especially a captive slave of an enemy despised by them all.
Eda knew what was happening, but she was loyal to Royce and not about to tell anyone that Kristen was defying him and he was letting her get away with it. She scolded Kristen daily for her stubbornness, for it was her feeling that if Royce wanted her, he should have her. She was also aware that their one night together had been agreeable to them both, for no screams had come from his chamber that night, no bruises had marred Kristen’s smooth skin the next day. She was coldly silent that day, but Eda had guessed the reason why, seeing her glare so often at her chains.
Eda had called her foolish after that for not trying to curry her lord’s favor in that age-old way. Kristen had retorted that she could do without such favor that still kept her chained like an animal.
She was puzzled, however, that Royce was conceding to her wishes. He continued to ask her to share his bed, and continued to accept her refusal, though less graciously lately. She had never dreamed he would. In fact, she had expected him to force her instead. That would have been more in keeping with her position that put her utterly at his mercy. But he didn’t. And that he didn’t was causing Kristen some unanticipated frustration of her own.
She still wanted him. And now that she knew what lovemaking was all about, she wanted him even more than before. But pride, of which she had her fair share, was going to keep her from ever saying so again—to him, anyway.
