“Aye.”
“You have already learned ’tis pointless.”
“Nay, what I have learned is how easily you can be manipulated by a mere challenge,” she was angry enough to admit now. With a derisive laugh, she went on to taunt: “You have yet to taste the full measure of my resistance, Saxon. You did naught yestereve that I did not want you to do, for I wanted you then. But if you force me now and I fight you true, I promise you will get no pleasure from it.”
Her taunting worked to fire his rage. He swore harshly, throwing the candle to the floor in his anger. It seemed his hands were on her even before the flame was extinguished, though she did not see him leap at her.
One hand slid down her arm to fasten on her wrist, and she was pulled after him toward the door. Kristen waited until they were in the narrow corridor to yank her hand away. She succeeded, and had the pleasure of hearing Royce swear again as she ran toward the stairs. He knocked her to the floor before she reached them, his body falling heavily on top of hers.
As soon as he lifted some of his weight to rise, allowing her to do the same, Kristen jabbed backward with her elbow. She connected with his belly and heard him grunt. With enough room between them now, she rolled to the side and would have kicked him even farther away if he hadn’t thrown an arm over her legs. In the next moment he caught her hand and she found herself hefted over his shoulder.
Royce had trouble rising with her squirming weight, but rise he did and start toward his room. Kristen, however, was nowise done with him. Hanging halfway down his back, she reached up behind her to grab a handful of his hair. She jerked so hard she would have broken the neck of a less powerful man. As it was, Royce lost his balance and slammed into the wall.
Kristen gasped, feeling herself falling, and landed on her backside this time. But she did not let go of Royce’s hair, which brought him to his knees beside her.
Royce growled furiously and knocked her hand away, leaving her with a fistful of his hair. This time when he caught her wrist, he twisted it around behind her back and up, until she thought he meant to break the arm. His intention, however, was to force her to rise—which she did, quickly.
He kept her in front of him now, and if she did not walk forward, the arm bent higher. He got her into his room this way, and once there, he shoved her forcefully away from him.
Kristen stumbled only slightly, but caught herself and swung around to face him. Calmly he locked the door. Just as calmly, he walked over and tossed the key out the open window, the gesture more than intimidating.
She felt a shiver rush down her back. But he did not approach her yet. The room was well lit, and she could see a cold look of determination on his face as he glanced at her. But he did not approach her. Instead he went to the bed. There, taking the cover in hand, he used his dagger to cut thin strips from it.
Kristen’s eyes widened on seeing this. It didn’t dawn on her yet what he meant to do with those thin strips of cloth. She simply thought him insane, for the cover was a work of beauty, made of soft sheepskin and finely embroidered with half a dozen different colored threads.
Royce stopped when he had four long pieces cut. He moved to tie a strip to one of the low posts on the bed, then moved to the next post. Watching him, Kristen was stunned, but only for a moment. She felt as if her heart had dropped into her belly, for there was only one reason she could think of for what he was doing.
A half yell, half groan ripped from her throat and she ran to the wall of weapons, yanking down a hefty broadsword. Hewascrazy!
“Put it back, Kristen.”
His voice sounded so reasonable. How could he sound so reasonable when he meant to torture her?
“Nay!” She turned to glare at him. “You will have to kill me afore I let you practice your cruelties on me!”
He shook his head at her and continued tying a cloth to the third post, then went on to the fourth. He was watching not her, but what he was doing. She did not take her eyes from him, though, and saw a slight smile curling his lips. It turned her blood cold, for there was nothing of humor in it.
The sword was heavy, much heavier than anything she had ever practiced with. But standing there watching him until he was done had cost her the chance to pick another. She was not thinking clearly at all. She realized now, too late, that she should have attacked him instead of waiting until he gave her his full attention.
The small dagger Royce put back in the sheath at his belt. With no weapon in his hand, he walked toward Kristen. There were any number of weapons that he could choose from on the wall, but he would have to get around her first. She was not going to let him.
She hardened her heart to all that she felt for him. Her expression mirrored her deadly intent. She held the sword low, ready to twist sharply up and forward to find target. But Royce stopped just short enough so she would have to step to reach him. His own expression was inscrutable now.
“Tell me something, Kristen. Are all Norsewomen trained so ably to defend themselves?”
“Nay,” she replied warily.
“But I know you have been, for you have twice demonstrated your skill for my cousin’s benefit. Your father taught you, I suppose? Or was it your brother Selig? Of course, his skill was not as good—”
She cried furiously and swung the sword back to come down in an arc that would have neatly cleaved his shoulder if he had not moved aside. But instead of backing away to escape the blade’s next descent, Royce had stepped closer. His fist came down on Kristen’s wrist before she could maneuver the heavy sword to attack again.
The sword clattered loudly to the floor, and Kristen was spun about so that her back would face him when his arms circled round her waist. Both of her own arms were captured in the hold. Try as she might, she couldn’t pull them loose.
“Foolish girl. Did no one ever teach you to ignore the comments of your adversary?”
She kicked a heel back in answer and struck his shin, but the soft-soled shoe did little damage and she was sure she hurt her foot more than she did him. The blow did succeed in making him hurry with her to the bed. He dropped her there and then fell on her back before she could get both arms out from under her. The one arm she did manage to release he quickly grabbed, and she groaned, feeling the cloth wrapped swiftly about her wrist.
It was the left wrist he had tied to the right post, so she was ready for him, thinking he would have to turn her over now. But her fist struck only air when he rose and she rolled over, for he was after her feet next, instead of her free hand. And he was easily able to secure one leg with his weight while he concentrated on tying the other foot to the post. And her hand stretched just short of him.
