I finally turned to look at Father Benedict, finding the source of his anguish. A wet stain on his robes made it obvious exactly what he’d thought of Sigrid’s performance.
He crossed his arms. “It’ll be m-my word against yours. You’re an outsider.”
Sigrid took three slow, lazy steps towards him. “Cross me, and you’ll never sleep again. You’ll lie awake each night wondering if this time the shadow in the corner really did move…if your nightmare has become real. It will only be a matter of time before I hunt you down.” She swiped a finger through the mess I’d made on her breasts, scooping some up. “Aren’t priests in this land supposed to be immune to the allure of the flesh?”
As she approached Father Benedict, he shook his head, pleading incoherently.
“Open,” she commanded without a shred of pity.
She forced the finger into his mouth, and he licked it unwillingly, shaking his head as his face turned a dark shade of red.
I’d always seen him as an untouchable monster. This was like watching my fear shatter before my eyes, losing power as the priest dissolved into a shaking mess. He could serve cruelty but had no stomach for it when it was turned on him.
Sigrid used the bottom of Father Benedict’s holy robes to wipe her chest clean, then turned on her heel and picked upthe long silk robe that had been left for her. As she put it on, she strode from the room with her chin held high, every inch a queen.
She wasbreathtaking.
I was going to make her mine.
CHAPTER FOUR
SIGRID
Asteaming bath awaited me upon my arrival to our chambers, a sprawling suite of rooms filled with ornate furniture.
I cringed. There would be noouranything.
“Does m’lady wish me to wash her?” asked the trembling maid who stood by the tub, holding a neatly folded towel. I braced to feel the wave of her fear, to be fed images of just how she saw me…but it never came.
The king thought he’d weakened me by leashing my berserker, but it was a relief to experience this kind of quiet in my mind. I didn’t have to live in a murky swamp of everyone else’s nightmares.
“You’ve got no need to fear me. My quarrel isn’t with you,” I said with a sigh.
She nodded eagerly like she was trying to pretend she believed me. “Yes, m’lady.”
“‘Sigrid’ will do. And your name is?”
“Ethel, m’lady. I mean, sorry, m’lady—Sigrid!” Her face turned bright pink, and she cowered even more.
Her terror was so potent, I swore I could taste the residue of it through my slumbering berserker. It was almost like she’d been raised on bedtime stories about me devouring misbehaving housemaids.
I extended a hand. “No assistance required, thank you. Be on your way.”
She stepped closer and reached out a trembling arm to drop the towel into my grasp. I spotted the ghost of a bruise on her cheek. Evidently, the Saxons were no gentler with their women than the Vikings. I studied her tiny frame with a pang of irritation. At least the Vikings taught their women to fight back.
“Do you have a husband, Ethel?”
Her eyes shifted to the floor. “No.”
I set the towel on a chair next to the steaming tub, trying to remember this wasn’t my business. But if I was going to have to stare at this slip of a creature while I was here, I wasn’t going to tolerate her showing up battered. “Save me the guessing game, and tell me who smacked you.”
She was about to burst into tears, and I had half a mind to shove her out into the hall before it happened so I didn’t have to witness it.
“Give me a name, then get out.”
She flinched but glanced at the door hopefully. “The king, my lady. He’s a monster.” She whispered the last part like saying it too loudly might summon him.
I couldn’t help smiling. “A monster, you say?”I’ll gladly put that to the test.
