“He is more than a friend to you, your Thorolf.”
“You say that because I let him detain me?” she asked incredulously. “Aye, I let him, because I did not think you could be so foolish as to fall for his ploy.”
“Who was the fool?”
Her eyes flew open. “You knew! You knew what he would do and yet you still came in! Youaremad!”
He held both shoulders now and shook her. “What I am is without patience. Do you love him?”
That she could knock his hands away, as tight as they held her, attested to her own loss of patience. “Another question that has naught to do with what happened! Of course I love him. He is like a brother to me. Now you tell me what that has to do with aught! You put yourself at their mercy. Thorolf said they would not kill you, but you could not know that. You had only to return to the hall, Saxon, and I would have followed on my own.”
“DidIknowthat?”
It dawned on her that he was shouting now, that he was no longer furious—just angry, if Alden could be believed. Which statement of hers had appeased him enough to bring about the change? she wondered.
She lowered her own voice. “Common sense would have told you. Outside that room, you held control. You could have forced me out in any number of ways. I knew that. ’Twas not my intention to stay,” she even admitted. “I did not mean to stay as long as I did, but it had been so long since I had talked to them.”
“Or touched them—him! I have eyes, wench. You were practically on top of him!”
“Oh, unfair!” she cried. “I sat next to him. He held my hand. How could you read more into that than there was? I told you long ago I was raised to be unafraid to show my affections. ’Tis natural for me to touch someone I love.”
“Then touch me, Kristen.”
Those words hit her like thunder, slamming through her with an electrical charge. Of a sudden, his expression was fraught with desire, not anger, and it touched a like response in Kristen. She was already emotionally stimulated. His look simply redirected that emotion, focused it on her senses, which were screaming to throw herself into his arms.
She almost did. She almost took the step that would meld their bodies together. It took every last bit of will she possessed not to. God help her, if he had only said it differently, if love were not the issue…
“Kristen?”
“Nay!” The word tore out of her, as much for herself as for him. “I donotlove you!”
The denial was too emphatic, she knew. It was no wonder he ignored it, taking the step she wanted to take, bringing her up hard against his body. Another thunderclap, pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest, and lips that were a balm for the fever spreading through her. Scorching, insistent, he forced his mouth over hers, drawing passion from her soul.
He bent forward, holding her so that her body curved into his, tightly, while his lips burned toward her ear. “I concede, Kristen. Touch me not because you love me, but because I need you. Touch me!”
It was the groan that did it, coming from deep within him as if he were in mortal pain. Her heart could not resist that entreaty. Her body had already lost the battle. Her hands cupped his face, forcing him to look at her, and his look was more potent than any caress.
Aye, my Saxon, I will touch you. I will touch you until I reach your heart. She did not say it aloud, but it was in her eyes for him to see: her own need, her desire—her love. But she kissed his eyes closed, not wanting him to discern too much. And then she brought his lips back to hers and proceeded to drive him wild with what he had asked for. She touched him to her heart’s content.
Chapter Thirty-four
Six hot loaves of nut bread were put in a basket and taken outside to the waiting baggage carts. Eda had woken Kristen early to come down and make them for the King’s departure. He and his party were finally leaving.
Servants again gathered at the windows to watch as the many nobles mounted their fine horses. The sky was thick with angry clouds. They were likely to be drenched in rain before the morning was through. Yet no order was given to delay. Alfred did not await the weather.
Unlike the arrival of these nobles, Kristen was able to watch their leaving along with the others. She saw the King embrace Royce. She saw them laugh together over something Alfred said. And then she watched this young King of the Saxons ride out of Wyndhurst.
She was not sorry to see him go, disliking the upheaval his visit had caused. And yet she knew what his going meant to her: The bargain she had made with Royce was at an end.
She walked slowly back to the cooking area, Eda by her side. “Did Royce say aught to you this morn?” she ventured.
“Aye, he did.”
“Oh.”
“‘Oh’? ’Tis not like you to hedge, wench,” Eda said testily. “If you want to know about the chains, ask me. Nay, do not ask. I have his order, no more than you expected.”
“Aye, I expected no more.”
