Surrender My Love (22 page)

It was infuriating that she was getting nowhere, even with her hands freed of restraint. She tried locking her arms against her sides again, but he merely reached in to grab one wrist, then the other, pulling them both over her head where he could hold them together long enough for the gowns to follow, and follow they did. There was a moment when the loose shackle got caught in the sleeve of her chainse, but one last yank saw to its release.

She had been given no shift to wear with her slave’s clothes, no braies or stockings. That easily was she left naked. But embar
rassment didn’t touch her yet. Her anger was still too high, and since her chained feet made it impossible for her to run, she attacked again instead.

It was, of course, a useless endeavor against a man his size. He didn’t feel her punches, merely stood there and raised a brow at her when she tried it twice. She began to wonder how a blow to his head had ever caused him pain. But when she made to swing the shackle at him again, he stopped toying with her and ended her efforts right quickly.

Again her arm was twisted up behind her back, though this time he had no girdle to free. This time she was pressed tight to the front of him. And with her being so close, it was a simple matter for his other hand to follow her free arm down from the shoulder to her wrist, no matter her effort to shake it loose. That arm, too, ended up behind her back.

But when his other hand left her wrist to slide slowly down the chain still attached to it, her eyes widened, for she realized what he meant to do. And he did it, the shackle closing around her free wrist again, the sound of it locking bringing a shudder to her.

He let go of her then, but the length of the chain behind her wouldn’t let her arms come forward farther than her sides. She was exposed, completely, helpless even to shield her breasts with her hands. This was how he meant to parade her before a hall filled with women who would take pleasure in seeing a Dane brought so low?

Her pride was momentarily in shock, long enough for him to lead her by her “leash” from the room without any protest from her. Not that protest would have done her any good, and she didn’t even consider trying it when the horror of this latest humiliation at his hands subsided somewhat. What was left was anger worse than any she had so far felt.

They had not yet reached the stairs when she acquainted him with it. “Cowardly knave. Swinish oaf. Diseased scum of a trickster!”

He had already swung around, towered over her before the last word was out, and his face was flushed with some anger of his own. “On your knees when you call me names,” he ordered in a growl.

Without the least hesitation, she dropped to her knees, leaned forward, and sank her teeth into his right thigh. Selig howled. Bending over her was his first reflex, but before the second took hold, he lost his balance. He grabbed her shoulders to keep from falling, but that only shoved her back and he ended up sprawling on top of her.

The breath was knocked from her for a moment. When she had it back, she made to shove him off her, only to have it recalled that her hands were no longer available for such use, were locked to the floor by her hips. She used was what left to her, her shoulders, her hips. That was a mistake.

She finally noticed that he was making no effort to move, was simply staring down at her. Lying on top of a naked woman might not
have stoked his fires, but her own movements to dislodge him had done so. It was there in the intense smoldering of his gray eyes, and in what she could feel hardening near the apex of her thighs.

In a panic, she got out, “Recall that you hate me!” just before his mouth closed on hers.

His hate, apparently, didn’t come into this. This was elemental, arousal overruling other emotions. She was made to understand that more clearly when some of that same desire clouded her own thinking.

The man simply surpassed proficiency when it came to kissing. He licked, he nibbled, he sucked, and his tongue plunged. And for a girl who knew next to nothing about it, Erika was overwhelmed by such expertise. Nor did he just kiss her. Mayhap she could have come to her senses otherwise—nay, she was beyond denial, and what else he did merely made it worse.

He had total access to the parts most intimate on her body, and as if they had a will of their own, his hands were drawn to some of them. Both hands slid between their bodies to flatten over her breasts. Both squeezed, both plumped, both found the nipples and plucked them to hardness. The shock was felt clear to her toes. She moaned into his mouth. His own groan was louder.

Neither heard the approaching footsteps, but the dry tone was quite clear. “I suppose you will tell me that the time you have spent in your bed these last weeks has given you an aversion to it.”

Selig’s new groan was unrelated to passion. “Mother, go…away.”

Even more dryness. “You mean you did not want an audience? You could have fooled me.”

“Mother!”

A sound of disgust greeted that entreaty, then footsteps again, now receding.

Selig sighed and dropped his forehead to Erika’s. It took a moment for him to realize that he had relaxed against her; then he stiffened and leaned back. She was already as rigid as the floor beneath her. Ironically, his face was as hot as hers with embarrassment right now. She couldn’t quite find any justice or humor in that.

“She did not see you,” he offered for some reason she could not fathom.

“What matter if she did?” Erika replied bitterly. “You are the one who would find shame in that. Mine was there before her appearance.”

He glowered at her for a moment before he shoved himself to his feet, drawing her up with him by her collar ring. He didn’t take the chain that hung down between her breasts, other than to drape it once around her neck so she wouldn’t trip on it.

“To bite a man’s leg is to invite what you got,” he said stiffly.

“Put me to my knees again, and I will see if I can aim for a different part of you.”

His face got a little hotter, as did his anger. “You were like a bitch in heat,” he reminded her.

“And you desired a woman you profess to hate!” she shot back.

It wasn’t the wisest thing to do, to taunt him with his own shame. His finger went back through her collar ring to lift her until their noses almost touched.

In a low, menacing voice he said, “I do despise you, wench, never doubt it. I despise you and the ice that runs through your veins.” And then he smiled nastily. “Except it runs hot when a man touches you, does it not?”

She should be grateful he had merely thrown the same taunt back at her. She was still too angry for gratitude—or to retreat.

“At least I do not make excuses, or place the blame elsewhere.”

He let go of her with a slight shove, saying in a barely controlled hiss, “Return to my chamber, wench. I will send Eda to assist you. Your excursion below can wait for another day.”

“When your mother will not be certain it was I you were rutting with?”

She didn’t wait to see if
that
barb drew blood. And in fact, she did leave him there seething—and still so aroused he ached with it. He stayed there for several minutes, trying to gather some calm. It wouldn’t come. And it wasn’t toward the stairs that he finally headed.

He came to the open doorway—she had been unable to close it herself when she entered—to see her sitting in her corner, her head bent to her upraised knees so that her hair cloaked most of her nakedness. The sight of her dejected pose so affected him, he kicked the doorframe, then
swore viciously because he was wearing his soft-skinned boots today. How did she dare make him feel sorry for her at the same time that his passions were aroused?

He had drawn her attention. There weren’t tears in the powder-blue eyes that looked toward him, but the fire of her anger was no longer there to sustain his. Misery was what he saw, or thought he saw, and he had never been able to witness it in women without wanting to rid them of it. He left before he did something stupid, like comfort this one.

Chapter 26

I
T HAD BEEN
too much to hope that his mother would keep to herself what she had seen in the upstairs hall. Not long after the men returned from the hunt, Selig’s father was lifting his brow at him and shaking his head, and Royce laughed outright when their eyes met.

At least he was certain they didn’t know whom he had lost his head over, which would have made his embarrassment much worse. But he was sure his own body had blocked Erika from his mother’s sight.

It was time he moved into his own home, and not because he required more privacy. Wyndhurst was simply too crowded right now, and he had recovered enough that he was definitely in need of a woman. What had happened with the Dane was proof of that. But with the rest of his family visiting, there wasn’t an empty room to be found in which a man might dally undisturbed—even his own.

He could, of course, move his captive elsewhere for the time being. There was no specific purpose why she must be kept in his own chamber, except that that was where he
wanted her to be—and for some reason, he slept peacefully with her near. Even the return of his carnal appetites didn’t take precedence over that.

He could blame that return on what had happened with the Dane, however, and on the fact that he hadn’t had a woman since he had left for East Anglia. But what could explain his insistence on stripping her bare, when the last time he had seen her thusly had warned him not to do so again? He had known it would come to that.

He had known her pride wouldn’t let her utter the word “master.” And he had known what it would do to him to see her like that again. Certainly it would have been a fine revenge—if it wouldn’t have affected him personally.

So why had he done it, looked forward to it, enjoyed it more than warranted? For that matter, with so many lovely ladies in the king’s party to draw his interest, why had it been so difficult for him to stay away from his own chamber these past days?

Obviously, this revenge business was consuming too much of his energy. He was becoming obsessive about it—and her. But he derived such pleasure from having Erika of Gronwood in his power, having her at hand to bedevil, seeing her eyes flash with impotent fury. What had happened in the hall with her was unrelated to that. What had happened in the hall shouldn’t have happened, wouldn’t happen again.

He needed to return to his own home, where he had other things to occupy his mind—the
new slaves to train, defenses to begin building now that the house was complete. He would make the announcement on the morrow, and withstand all objections from the females in his family—somehow.

Which was what he would have done if Ragnar Haraldsson had not arrived late that afternoon.

Word was brought immediately to Royce of the Danish army amassing before his gates. Unfortunately, the man who brought the information was in something of a panic and simply blurted it out, where those closest could hear. Only Kristen was at Royce’s table at the moment—along with the king.

Alfred rose abruptly at the news. Royce had to quickly assure him, “They are not here for you, my lord. This was anticipated. They are here for the lady my wife captured for her brother.”

“Her brother?” Alfred looked to where Selig was being entertained across the hall, with a bevy of women vying for his attention. “That handsome wretch who has seduced every woman in my court?”

Royce could not quite keep his grin back. Alfred was only a couple of years older than Selig, which was to say he was young enough to appreciate the ladies—and be a bit envious of the kind of success Selig was accustomed to.

“I doubt me he has gotten to
every
one,” Royce commented dryly.

“I would not wager on that,” Kristen said beneath her breath, so as not to draw notice. She imagined her husband was not going to be too pleased with her right now for bringing this new dilemma upon them.

Alfred was merely perplexed. “For what conceivable reason would he need a woman captured for him, when anyone with eyes can behold how they fall at his feet in droves? Is she that beautiful?”

Royce could see that Alfred’s interest was piqued by that thought, so he quickly disabused him. “She is no more than average in prettiness. She was not taken for what you are thinking, but for revenge.”

Royce briefly explained the circumstances as he knew them. Kristen relaxed somewhat, for she didn’t come out sounding quite so foolish and irresponsible for her part in it, at least not as much as Royce had made her feel when they had discussed the matter themselves.

He finished the tale with, “If you will excuse me now, my lord, I will see what can be done to send these Danes home again.”

“You had better hope you have enough silver on hand,” Alfred warned. “’Tis the first thing those greedy bastards always demand.”

Alfred ought to know. He had depleted the royal coffers enough times to meet the exorbitant Danegeld prices demanded of him to get the Danes out of Wessex in the past. But Royce didn’t intend to deplete his own store for his brother-in-law. Whatever Danegeld had to be paid, if any did, Selig could pay it.

He had not quite reached the entrance to the hall when he noted that his wife was close on his heels. Without stopping or glancing back at her, he demanded, “And where do you think you go?”

Kristen came up beside him, but also refrained from looking at him. “With you, of course.”

“Nay, you will not.”

That adamant reply had her tugging on his arm to stop him so she could point out, “You do not speak Danish, Royce. Nor do you wish to speak directly to a Dane, even if you could. You would sooner draw your sword. I will interpret for you. ’Tis the least I can do.”

His brow lifted at that last comment. “Do you finally admit you may have made a mistake?”

“If I did not take her when I did, Selig would have gone back for her later. Either way, he would have ended up with her, or died in the trying. Nay, I do not regret my own actions. Better we have her here behind these walls, giving us the upper hand.”

His arms crossed his chest in one of his more superior stances. “Upper hand? When we are about to be besieged?”