She looked possessed, her eyes enflamed with hatred. “In Sir McNally’s room, in his bed.”
Damn Aaron. He’d preyed on Frida, and now likely had Rachelle under his control. Tyr grabbed her arm and gave her a solid shake. “Where is Rachelle?”
She winced.
“Tell me now or I’ll strip you and thrash you in front of everyone.” Tyr jerked his head toward one of his men and the guard immediately unbuckled his weapon belt.
Frida trembled at the sight of the leather strap, but it didn’t loosen her tongue. She tried to break free. Fear over Rachelle’s safety ignited Tyr’s fury. He shook her harder. “Where is she?”
“Long gone—promised in marriage to Prince Edwin. And by now,” she hissed, “the vows have been consecrated by a priest.”
Control nearly fled Tyr’s mind and body. ToHelwith honor and patience… if a woman wanted to act like a man, she should be treated as one. But he’d never hit a female before. Swallowinghis rage, the mere fantasy of giving her a good beating would have to satisfy his need for violence. There were other ways to punish his former lover. Besides, if Edwin had planned the wedding for tonight, he’d better ride like the wind before it was too late.
With no patience left, he addressed Onetooth. “Lock her in her room. I’ll deal with her upon my return.” Tyr eyeballed her one last time. He didn’t miss the pain and embarrassment on her face. How did Aaron convince her to participate in such betrayal?
Tyr mounted his horse and rode ahead of his men. He didn’t need anyone slowing him down.
Awake and feelingbetter, Rachelle nodded politely at the stranger who set a plate of food down on a table near her cot. The servant departed. Three oil lamps provided enough light to see where things were situated. A couple of large trunks in a corner, three cots, furs on the floor, and assorted weaponry. No doubt this was one of Prince Edwin’s military camps. She vaguely remembered being carried inside the tent last night.
She padded to the table. Her head still ached, but that didn’t affect her appetite. She picked through the food and sampled some bread, cheese, and smoked salmon. She smiled faintly as she chewed. Anything would taste good right now. She traced the scratch across her eyebrow with her fingers, then felt the side of her head, only to wince when she found the painful lump.That blasted tree.
She’d been taken against her will for the second time in weeks…No, that wasn’t entirely true.
Had she resisted the Viking, she’d probably still be in England or dead by the hand of a raping Norman. She scowled at the thought. Marriage to a royal must offer some benefits. But nothing would change her mind about Edwin’s character. Heobviously lacked any morals or consideration for her feelings. She’d been distracted by his kindness at first, she now knew he had only feigned interest in her. Tyr had recognized the man for what he truly was.
She startled when an old woman entered the tent. Dresses were draped over her left arm and she carried a small box in her right hand. “Milady.” The woman curtsied. “I’ve been sent to help you prepare for your wedding.”
“Wedding?” The word sounded absurd, she refused to acknowledge it. “Bloody hell,” she whispered, then felt remorse. This poor creature was only doing what she was instructed to do. “May I have the pleasure of knowing who the bridegroom is?”
The servant gave her a strange look.Of course she would. What woman didn’t know the identity of her betrothed?
“Prince Edwin.”
The time of reckoning had arrived. She couldn’t marry him and absolutely refused to accept this fate. “I won’t!” she screamed. “I’ve no desire to be joined with a man I don’t love and can’t trust.” She ran for the opening of the tent. One of the four guards posted outside stopped her. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her further outside. She slapped the brute across the face.
“Bitch.” He raised his hand.
“Strike me if you dare,” she challenged. She preferred violence to facing Edwin.
“Ignore her,” another man advised. “Get back.”
Trapped between the two of them, she had no choice but to yield. They shoved her back inside. The old woman was waiting patiently next to the mattress with three gowns spread out for inspection.
Eying Rachelle benignly, she said, “The green silk is my favorite. But the amber has the best beadwork. Which do you prefer, milady?”
Rachelle wanted to tear the gowns apart. “None.” She cursed again. “Do as you please, I refuse to participate in this mockery.”
“It’s perfectly legitimate, lass.”
She spun in fury at Aaron’s intrusion.
“You! Why are you doing this?”
His lips twisted while his gaze traveled over her. “There’s little I could do to damage Tyr. Eliminating you from his life is the first step in restoring my reputation.”
Her laughter had a harsh, almost hysterical note. “You blame me for your fall from grace?”
“My cousin lost more than his wits once he found you.”
