“I made a bargain with her. I cannot change it now.”
“And I was but jesting, Royce. By all reason, he would not harm her. He wants the blood of Vikings, not a woman’s. If you doubt that, test him. But do not send him away for such a weak possibility. That would be taking your caution of the wench too far, especially when there cannot be any woman alive who sees to her own protection as that one does. And if that is not enough, your quest is the same as his, yet you did not harm her.”
Royce’s lips turned down in disgust. All true. He glanced again at the Celt, who stood there a model of patience.
“We were likewise raided by Vikings this summer,” Royce said, watching closely the man’s eyes. “We were more fortunate than your village in defeating them.”
“You killed them all?”
Even Alden raised a brow at the force of those words, and he offered, “’Tis unlikely they were the same Vikings. These were Norwegians, after riches. ’Tis doubtful they would raid a fishing village that would offer little plunder.”
“But you killed them?”
“Not all. Those captured are prisoners here. They are forced to work toward our defenses.”
“They are also under my protection,” Royce added, not liking at all the way the man relaxed as soon as Alden mentioned they had prisoners.
Gaelan heard the threat and replied accordingly. “If you have enslaved these Vikings, then justice is met. They will raid no more. I want those still running free in the north, for ’tis likely that is where the ship sailed that raided my village.”
“If I accept you, Gaelan of Devon, will you work toward building my defenses, along with the prisoners?”
The man tensed. “I will not seek my vengeance of them, milord, but do not ask me to work beside them.”
“I do ask it. ’Tis the only work I have at this time for a man of your size. You did say you were willing to do aught that was requested of you.”
“So I did.” There was a long silence, then: “So be it.”
“You can resist the temptation?” Royce persisted.
“I have said I do not want the blood of enslaved men.”
“Then you are welcome. You will begin work in the morn. In the afternoon you will train with my men. Seldon, see to the man’s comfort.”
Alden leaned close to Royce as Seldon took the Celt to the barrel for a horn of mead. “You are sure?”
Royce raised a brow. “You ask that after you spoke for the man? Aye, I am sure.” But he added darkly, “Sure enough to have him watched until I am even more sure.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Late in the afternoon, when Kristen returned to the hall with Eda after putting the guest chambers to rights, she was still wondering how she could have her revenge against Alden, without forfeiting her own life. She had wondered about it all day. She had listed in her mind the many ways she could wound him—or, rather, permanently maim him, so that he might succumb to depression and take his own life. The only problem with that was, what if being a cripple did not do it? How would a man who was otherwise so carefree and cheerful react to depression?
She did not consider giving up and letting Alden live. Quite the contrary. Fretting about it all day had made her think more and more of her brother, and that only strengthened her resolve.
But it was perhaps having Selig on her mind so strongly that caused her to have such a bad reaction on her first sight of the stranger in the hall. He sat with his back to her, and yet she turned deathly white, lost her breath, lost the use of her legs, even lost her sight for that one heart-stopping moment when she thought her brother had come back from the dead.
Eda plowing into her brought Kristen back to life, too much life, for she reacted badly to her momentary madness. “God’s teeth, woman! Watch where you are going!”
“Me!” Eda was taken aback. “Me? Who stopped dead? I ask you.”
Kristen merely glowered at her and stalked on toward the cooking area. Once there, her eyes were drawn back to the stranger again and again. It was the cursed hair, blackest black. It was the cursed breadth of shoulder, just the exact width. It was the cursed long-muscled back, just like the one she used to ride on when she was so much younger. No wonder she had thought she looked at Selig, despite every sense that told her it was impossible. From behind, the stranger was his double.
She could not stop watching him. She could not stop the need that built to see his face. Yet he did not once turn around. He sat with Seldon and Hunfrith swilling mead, an occasional laugh coming from one or more of them as they talked quietly together, too far away for her to hear their voices.
When Royce came into the hall, some of Kristen’s agitation calmed. He had that power over her. Yet she was still annoyed with him for his threat and gave him only a cursory glance. Alden was with him, and to Royce’s cousin she cast a murderous look that made him chuckle. No more than ten seconds later her eyes were back on the stranger. Whowashe?
“His name is Gaelan.”
“What?” Kristen turned to see Edrea grinning at her.
