Kristen repressed another smile. “Why do you dislike the Lady Corliss?”
Meghan looked back in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I saw what you did.”
“Oh.” The little girl blushed now, lowering her head, and then she said defensively, to explain herself, “She did not really want me to come to her. She does and says things she does not mean. She is full of sweet words now, but she was not before the betrothal.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Meghan ventured hopefully. “You do not think I am wrong to not like her?”
“Your feelings are yours alone and cannot be commanded by another. But since your brother likes her, mayhap you should try to.”
“I did,” Meghan admitted with a touch of rancor. “Until Royce took me with him to Raedwood and she pinched me, so I would go away and leave her alone with him.”
“What did he do?”
“He did not see.”
Kristen frowned. “You should have told him.”
“Nay, he would have been displeased.”
And Meghan would never do anything to displease him. Kristen sighed to herself. The poor child really should be made to see that her brother’s anger was not such a terrible thing—or, at least, that it wouldn’t be to her. Kristen had herself seen the way he treated Meghan with such tender care. She had watched him one evening carry the child upstairs when she had fallen asleep in the hall. How that had reminded her of her own father, and how Garrick used to do the same for her. Royce loved this little girl dearly, yet Meghan was still frightened of him.
Kristen shook her head at the thought. Meghan despaired, watching her. “You want me to go?”
“What? Oh, nay, sweetling, stay if you like.” Kristen realized that at the moment she was probably the lesser of two evils in the girl’s mind. “But are you sure you will not be scolded if you remain here?”
Meghan quickly shook her head. “There are so many guests, no one will notice where I am.”
“Then sit you down on that stool, and I will show you how to make my father’s favorite nut bread.”
“He likes nuts in his bread?”
“Indeed.” Kristen winked as she reached inside her outer gown, where she had made a pouch with the help of her girdle, and pulled out a handful of nuts. “And I swiped these from Eda before she could stuff them into her hens. We will make two special loaves, just for us. Would you like that?”
“Oh, aye, Kristen!” Meghan’s face lit up with childish delight. “’Twill be our secret.”
Meghan was incorrect in her prediction that no one would notice where she was. Royce noticed as soon as he entered the hall, for as always his eyes sought out Kristen first. And he could not help but see Meghan sitting next to her, for their heads were bent together, and they were laughing over something, oblivious to everything else around them.
He paused for a moment, feeling a warm rush of pleasure, watching them—his sister and his woman. When everyone else was wary of Kristen, he would have thought Meghan, who feared all strangers, would be even more so. Apparently not. It was obvious that they liked each other, and he was pleased by that.
He would have moved toward them, if Darrelle had not called him. Then he saw Corliss, and he stiffened. How could he have forgotten that she would be here? Lord Averill had come out to the practice field where Alfred had challenged his nobles to some impromptu contests of skill. And whenever Averill came to Wyndhurst, his daughters came too. It had been too much to hope that this time would be different. It was not.
He gritted his teeth and walked forward to greet his betrothed.
Kristen watched Royce and Corliss all evening, where they sat together at the long table. She could not seem to help herself, and simply ignored the painful lump constricting her chest. In spite of telling herself it did not matter, that Royce was not hers anyway, there was still that part of her that felt betrayed, that felt hewashers. Only she could not fight for him, could not rail at him, could do nothing to separate him from this other woman.
It hurt, and it made her realize her position here more fully than she had hitherto. She had been blithely getting through this ordeal with the assumption that in the end she would get what she wanted. And so each setback had made her lose patience—and her temper, too—but not complete hope.
She was so naive! Just because her father had fallen in love with and married his slave, did not mean the same thing could happen here in Wessex. At home, her family was a law unto themselves because of their isolation from the rest of the land. Her uncle Hugh was a Jarl, as powerful in authority in Norway as King Alfred was here. But even so, her mother had had to be freed first before Garrick could wed her. Norway had its laws concerning slaves that love could not put aside. And here, there were so many lords, so many laws! And had not Royce called her mad when she mentioned marriage to him?
Seeing him with his betrothed made Kristen realize she had been mad to think she could ever have him for herself. Not once did she see things from Royce’s point of view. Once he had called her lower than the lowest serf—said in anger, true—but how close was that to how he really felt about her? She was a slave. He had many. She warmed his bed now, but soon he would have a wife to do so. The concern he showed for Kristen was no more than he would give any of his possessions.
“Woolgathering, are you?”
It took a moment for Kristen’s eyes to focus on Eda. “Aye, I suppose I was.”
