He had sat down at the end of the long trestle table that would not be taken down until after the guests departed. The end of the table was five or six feet away from Kristen’s table. Two other women were working there, but she knew he spoke to her. They looked at him; Kristen did not.
But she did answer. “So I do.”
Several long moments of silence followed, then he said, “I see you are no longer being punished.”
“’Twas no punishment that had me chained,” she replied mildly as she continued to eat.
“Aye, I know you said ’twas because you are dangerous.” There was derision in his tone. “I might even have believed that after yestermorn, except that you would not have your freedom now if ’twas true.”
She shrugged. “Mayhap Lord Royce feels there is a greater danger here now than myself.”
“What danger? Curse you, look at me when I speak to you!”
Her eyes lifted slowly, finally fixing on his angry features. His face was red. There was an ugly slant to his mouth. He was not so handsome in his anger.
Her own look dismissed him, as if he were no more worthy of her attention than a rangy dog. She went back to eating before she gave an answer.
“You were the danger, milord. I have my freedom to protect myself. Lord Royce knows I do that very well.”
She was ignoring him again. Eldred had never in his life been treated this way by a woman. Women fawned over him, they loved him, they fought each other for his favor. This one treated him as if he were beneath her notice, and she a slave! He could kill her for that. If they were alone, he would have her beneath him—where she would pay dearly for her contempt.
“Royce chained you,” Eldred sneered, “just as he chains those savages in the yard who build his wall. Tell me, wench, does he chain you to his bed as well?”
He heard the women beside her gasp at his crudity, but the one to whom it was directed was not affected by his words at all. She sat there in calm serenity, eating her food, and he wanted to strangle her for it. How had she managed to make him lose control? He had wanted only to taunt and ridicule her, to make her pay for what she had done yestermorn.
There would be gossip if he did not leave go, gossip such as he had heard this morn: that Royce had not even waited until he was alone to summon her to his bed, but had escorted her from the hall. Blatantly he had made known his preference for a slave—aslave!—and in front of his King!
Eldred wished he had been present to see that bit of foolishness. But he had been loath to face Royce in Alfred’s presence after Alden had made clear to him that this slave was special to Royce. It would be just like Royce to take issue with Eldred for what he had tried to do, and Eldred never won where Royce was concerned. He had worked too hard to gain Alfred’s respect to lose it in an altercation with Royce over a slave.
But he still could not leave go. His anger was too great. It could only be appeased by her humiliation.
“Bring me ale, wench,” he ordered harshly. When one of the other servants moved to do so, he snapped, “Nay, the Viking wench will do it.”
She was looking at him now, by God. But Eldred felt only a moment’s satisfaction to have gained her full attention at last, for her eyes were sparkling with humor!
“If you truly want ale, milord, you had best let Edrea fetch it. If she does not, you will have to get it yourself.”
“You refuse to serve me?”
Kristen was hard pressed to keep from smiling. “Nay, milord,” she said quietly. “I follow Lord Royce’s orders—when it pleases me. And it pleases me that he has forbidden me to serve his guests.”
She had pushed him too far. It took him only a second to reach her. He yanked her to her feet with one hand, while the other drew back to strike her. She did not give him the chance, shoving him away.
Eldred came at her again, but was stopped this time by a harsh voice behind him. “Do not touch her, milord.”
He swung around, staring furiously at Royce’s serf Seldon. Another of Royce’s retainers was just behind him. Both had their hands resting on their sword hilts.
“Nay, I will not be stopped this time!” Eldred growled. “The wench will be punished.”
“Not by you. Lord Royce’s orders are that no one touches the woman.”
Unexpectedly, Kristen became angry at that. “I need no help with this cur. I would have carved him with his own weapon.”
Before they knew what she was about, she snatched Eldred’s dagger from his waist. It was pure contempt that made her stab it into the table instead of keeping it to ward him off. For that humiliation, he ignored the warning he had been given and backhanded her. Kristen retaliated by joining her fists and swinging at his jaw. The blow slammed Eldred into the table; he half fell over it. Royce’s men helped him up, but did not let go of him, though he was struggling and blustering.
Over the noise Eldred was making, Kristen could hear Darrelle shrieking and looked to see her rushing toward the entrance. Then she groaned inwardly, for Royce stood there—and not alone, but with Alfred beside him. And Royce looked fit to kill. He dismissed Darrelle with a sharp word.
Eldred heard Royce and stopped struggling. The two men saw him now and let Eldred go. Not one of them moved as Royce and the King crossed the hall to them.
