“But he is still angry.” Meghan hid her face in Kristen’s side.
“He is just being churlish, as men are wont to be. Of course, some anger runs much deeper and ’tis best to just stay out of the way of a man who is in a real rage. You will learn in time to judge the difference. But your brother…Have you ever seen him hurt a woman?” She gave a silent prayer the answer would be the correct one. It was not.
“He had you whipped.”
“He did not know I was a woman then.”
“He had you chained and your feet bled.”
Kristen sighed. “Did I not tell you that was no more than a scratch, that I did not even feel it? And that was not his fault, sweetling. He had warned me to bind my ankles under the iron bands. ’Twas I who forgot to do it.”
“Then, nay,” Meghan conceded. “He has hurt no woman.”
“Because he is a good, kind man beneath all his bluster. And if he would not hurt a woman, even in his anger, then he certainly would not hurt a child. And you can be even more certain he would not hurt his own sister. You, sweetling, could even get away with this.” Kristen stepped over to Royce and kicked him solidly in the shin. “And he would do naught to you.”
Royce stood still because Meghan had begun to giggle. He even wiped all emotion from his features while she still looked at him.
“You really would not hurt me, Royce?”
He smiled at her. “Nay, midget, never.”
She ran forward to hug his waist. Then she did the same to Kristen.
With a grin, Meghan said, “Thank you, Kristen,” before she ran out of the room.
“I thank you, too,” Royce said from behind her. “I could never make her understand she should not fear me. But as for that kick, vixen…”
His arm went around her waist to lift her off her feet. He carried her to the bed, where he maneuvered her face-down across his lap.
“Royce, nay!” She could not believe he would. “I was only proving a point!”
“You could have proved it another way, wench. And until the pain goes away on my shin, you will feel some yourself on your backside.”
Kristen ate her meal that night standing up. But she carried a secret smile on her lips. She might have gotten herself spanked for daring too much, but her Saxon had also made up for it afterward.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Kristen bemoaned the irony that Royce should offer to take her riding the next morning, when her backside was not up to it. She went anyway. How could she refuse when he gave her a horse to herself, when he suggested a race? Would she ever understand the man?
She lost the race, but enjoyed it anyway. It brought back carefree memories of racing Torden through field and forest. The horse she rode now was not as fine, but her companion made up for that.
Late in the morning, they stopped to water the horses from a rain-fed brook. The area was vibrant with summer colors, darkest greens and yellows and reds. The sky was clear for a change, the sun hot beyond the shade of the tree where Royce led her.
He sat down, leaning his back against the trunk and motioning her to come to him. Kristen ignored him and sat down by his feet instead. She plucked a blade of grass to worry between her teeth. Her eyes were soft as she looked at him.
Royce sighed. She might have given him her all the other night, but she was back to denying her willingness again. If he did not force her into his arms, she would not come.
“I thank you for the ride, milord.”
He shrugged off his generosity. “Thorolf was right. You are used to riding. You do it well.”
“I do many things well, but Thorolf would not know all of them.”
“Such as?”
She stretched out her legs and put her hands back to lean on. Her thick tawny braid lay over her shoulder, the tail end fanned out on her lap. He watched the way the breeze stirred the ends.
She was looking up at the sky when she replied. “Thorolf does not know I have skill with weapons. None of them know. But you do.”
