He did laugh this time. “I retreat, for now.” His hand rested on her back as he walked her to the hall. And then he added hesitantly, “It cannot be often, but when I can, do you come with me to the lake again?”
Kristen looked sideways at him. This she had not expected at all. He was giving her something to look forward to, whether he knew it or not. And that was something she desperately needed at this time.
“I would like that, milord. But can I have a horse to myself next time?”
“Nay.”
Her brow rose. “I know how to ride.”
“So Thorolf told me.”
“Then you say nay because you do not trust me.”
“Of course I do not trust you.” He grinned at the face she made to that. “But more than that, I liked having you on my lap where I could—”
“Royce!”
“Do you blush, wench? God’s breath, you do!”
“Cease, Saxon, or I will—”
He was not to hear what she would do. He followed her gaze to see what had subdued her, and saw Corliss standing in the doorway to the hall, one of her sisters beside her. They were not there to greet him, surely, for neither lady looked in the least bit welcoming.
“You must have disremembered she was here, milord,” Kristen whispered aside to him.
He had certainly tried to, but he did not say that aloud. One glance at Kristen told him she did not pity him this confrontation. Her eyes brimmed with secret humor. Merciless wench, she wanted to see him taken to task for his neglect of his betrothed.
“Milady,” Royce said stiffly in greeting.
“Milord,” Corliss replied just as stiffly. She did not move aside to let Kristen go on into the hall. In fact, she looked directly at Kristen as she inquired, “Who is this freakish giant?”
Royce’s chin went hard. The muscles in his neck moved alarmingly. Kristen would have been amazed had she seen this, though she would have assumed his anger stemmed from the jealous bite of the lady’s attitude. But Kristen wasn’t looking at Royce just now. She was looking down at the lady, and she did have to look down, for the top of Corliss’s head came no higher than her chin.
If Kristen were not so comfortable with her size, she might have been hurt by the lady’s deliberate slur. She was amused instead, recognizing the jealousy, delighting in its implications.
And as was her nature, she did not mince words or appear subservient in any way. Brazenly she said, “If your question is asked of me, lady, I must tell you that where I come from, babies of puny size are more times than not left to die, because they cannot survive our harsh clime.”
“Barbaric!” Corliss gasped.
“Aye, I can see why you would think so,” Kristen replied, her eyes saying much more as they traveled down the lady’s tiny length.
“Milord…” Corliss began to whine, bright-red spots staining her cheeks.
Kristen was quick to interrupt, lips twitching. “Forgive me, milady. I see your question was not asked of me after all. But then, Lord Royce can only tell you that I am his prisoner, enslaved by his will. About me he knows only what I have told him, which is very little. Is that not so, milord?”
She caught only the tail end of Royce’s anger when she glanced at him. His expression was nearly bland, but she did not mistake that he was displeased, for his hand at her back pushed her past Corliss, and his order to be about her labors was decisively curt.
So, she surmised, she had overstepped herself in his opinion. But she did not care, and the look she tossed at him over her shoulder as she sauntered away told him so.
Royce had to glance away from Kristen quickly before he burst out laughing, but in doing so his eyes fell on Corliss. He sobered instantly and issued a harsh curse in irritation. It was enough to send Corliss’s sister scurrying away, and Corliss backed away herself.
His hand shot out to stop her. “Nay, lady, you will explain yourself.”
“Royce, you hurt me!”
He swore again as tears brimmed instantly in her eyes. Immediately he released his hold on her wrist. She was like a child in her frailty. He had not realized that until now. But after knowing Kristen, who gave as good as she got, who thought nothing of physically fighting him, and who never once cried that he had hurt her, Corliss only fueled his disgust of all women with her tears.
“Dry your eyes,” he said brusquely. “I know my strength, and I know I hurt you not. So why do you cry?”
