Surrender My Love (28 page)

“I repaid your brother,” he growled. “I refused to fight him.”

“The outcome of which was not guaranteed, so that hardly suffices.”

He glowered at her for a moment; then he said, very softly, “To provoke my temper is to risk provoking my passion. If you do not want to be acquainted with the latter again, I would suggest you say no more.”

He turned away, dismissing her. Her question came in raised tones, unexpected—and unrelated. “Did you dally with your slaves today as my brother did?”

He swung back around, his look incredulous for all of two seconds. Then the amusement was back in spades, and he gave her that smile she detested.

“And spoil the illusion that we are newly in love? Certainly not. My dallying will have to await your brother’s departure.”

She turned her back on him and marched to her corner, determined to ignore him. She couldn’t believe she had asked that question of him. Just because he had mentioned passion, which reminded her of her earlier thoughts about his unfaithful proclivities…

She was mortified. She had sounded jealous! And the handsome wretch was amused by it!

She thought of offering an excuse. Surely she could think of something to explain her curiosity other than jealousy. She was
not
jealous.

“I am not jealous!” she shouted at the wall in front of her.

“That is a relief,” he said behind her, just before Kristen’s gowns were all dumped on
top of her. “Do something with these. You can wear them or not, but they will not be returned to my sister until you have your own clothes to replace them. She would be hurt to have her generosity scorned.”

“Is that supposed to influence me?” she shot back.

“Our bargain is very shaky, wench. I would not put it to the test any further this night, were I you.”

She said not another word.

Chapter 35

H
ER NAME WAS
Lida. She had been stolen from her village five years hence because her Slavic people were horse breeders, not warriors. They hadn’t stood a chance in the raid that decimated her village, and she was not the only woman to be carried off by she-knew-not-whom. She had been sold west herself, and had known three owners before the last died and she ended up in the Hedeby slave market on the neck of the Jutland Peninsula.

She had learned much in her years of slavery, learned that she had powers that went beyond ownership, and learned how to use them to her advantage. It was almost too easy, for she was not just beautiful with her sloe-black eyes and long black curls, she was all things sensual. Sensuality could have been her middle name. She exuded it in her every movement, her every glance. She knew how to drive men wild to have her, and how to enslave them once they did. It was so much a part of her that she didn’t have to make a conscious effort to entice. It was natural. It was inevitable. She had yet to meet a man who didn’t want her for his own.

She might be branded a slave, but she had not experienced the drudgery that went hand in hand with the distinction. She was too smart for that, and too lazy to do other than work her way to a position of favorite.

Each of her previous owners had succumbed to her allure, giving her power even over their wives, who were helpless to supplant her. Fine gowns and jewels had been hers for the asking, servants to wait on her, her own slaves if she wanted them. No, slavery was no drudgery for Lida. It was, in truth, an ideal life. Her only complaint was losing everything and having to start over again if her owner should die, which had been the case with all three of the men who had previously bought her.

Only once had she suffered for it, in the case of her first owner, whose wife had regained her power at his passing and had had Lida nearly beaten to death before being carted off to the slave market again. Lida had taken steps to see that that didn’t happen a second time with her next owner, getting him to send his wife away. But that wasn’t as much fun. She did so enjoy lording it over a lowly wife. So with the third owner, she found it was a simple matter to have protection arranged for her in advance.

She didn’t want her freedom and so never asked for it. Freedom was without protection, and Lida liked being protected and cherished. Nor did she want a husband of her own. Wives had too many duties, whereas Lida enjoyed having none. They also had the appalling chore
of producing children, which Lida wanted no part of. It was much nicer to usurp a wife’s powers without the attendant responsibilities. And Lida had no doubt that here in Wessex she would rise to the privileged position she was accustomed to.

Her only competition was no competition at all as she saw it, merely the two other female slaves who had sailed with her here. Golda was a robust, matronly sort with nothing to recommend her, except she knew how to run a household, which was what she had been bought for. She had nondescript brown hair, though her eyes, her best feature, were the color of golden oak. They were wasted in a face that was just short of homely—except when she smiled. When she smiled, she was actually pretty. But she was at least a score and ten years, was used to hard labor, and wouldn’t know how to entice a man if she tried.

Magge, on the other hand, was a lusty, red-haired Scot who enjoyed men and was prone to laugh for no good reason, finding humor in anything and everything. She was pretty in a loud sort of way, her coloring so vivid, but she couldn’t hold a candle to Lida’s sultry looks.

Lida had cultivated a relationship with the Viking Ivarr, until she found out he had bought her not for himself, but for another. She had been disappointed, for he was the most handsome of the men she had set out to seduce. At least she had been disappointed until yesterday.

Her first sight of her new owner had been a shock. She hadn’t known men could be as beautiful as Selig Haardrad, hadn’t in her wildest dreams ever imagined a man like this Viking. Another shock was that he barely gave her a second glance, spent his time with Golda instead, discussing the responsibilities that would be hers—and the authority. Lida had cajoled Ivarr into giving her the position of overseeing the servants, and he had done so, though he had warned it would only be temporary, that the final decision was not his to make. Yesterday, Selig had taken just one look at his three new slaves and made that decision.

Lida was not discouraged, merely annoyed. Ever since her arrival, she had done little or no work, delegating it to others. Until she could get Selig to give her back the authority he had so thoughtlessly taken from her, she would be under Golda’s supervision.

Without authority, Golda was as meek as a lamb; with it, she was a veritable dragon. At least she was not a vindictive dragon. She didn’t retaliate for all the extra work that had been hers under Lida’s direction. She merely doled out the work equally, which was, of course, unacceptable to Lida, who abhorred menial labor of any kind.

This was only a temporary setback, though, which would correct itself just as soon as she shared the master’s bed. And based on her experience, that would be almost immediately he moved back into his hall.

Word had already been sent that he and his new wife would be taking up residence this very day. So Lida did not have long to wait to get everything she wanted. And one of the things she would insist on was a larger household, which she was more accustomed to. There were ample male servants, but with only three women, or rather two, tasks were likely to come to Lida due to necessity. That simply wouldn’t do.

That Selig had a new wife gave Lida no worry at all, for she had already been told that he despised the lady, and had only married her at the Saxon king’s insistence. But even had he been in love with her, Lida wouldn’t have worried. She knew her own appeal, knew the power of it, and her confidence had never been daunted.

Still, there was risk involved with a man like Selig Haardrad, a risk that she might become as enslaved to him as he would be to her. She had always remained detached in her involvements with men, her emotions her own to control. But for such a man, it was a risk she would gladly take.

Chapter 36

S
ELIG LED THE
stallion from the stable. It was not his horse, but one borrowed from Royce, his own favored destrier in the hands of thieves now, as well as his prized sword. He had thought often of pursuing those ambushers during his recovery, if not to lay waste to them all, then to retrieve his property. He was still considering it. Mayhap after he settled in his own home…

He had not picked the best time to leave Wyndhurst, what with the activity in the bailey greater than usual with the arrival of more visitors. Royce and Kristen were busy with a group of men he didn’t recognize, but then, half the men from the king’s party he hadn’t known either. His brothers ignored all with a test of arms in the south corner, which garnered a small crowd, including their father. His mother was having words with Turgeis Ten Feet, who stood some fifteen feet distant from Erika, not far—her shadow, he had heard him called. He wondered what his mother could find of common interest with the giant.
She looked like a child standing next to him, but not the least bit wary.

Erika waited for him just outside the hall, where he had left her. Only a few hours earlier she had said her good-byes to her brother. Selig had thought there might be tears afterward, so he had taken her immediately back up to their chamber to pack her belongings with his, thinking that might distract her. More fool he.

His thoughtfulness had received a scathing remark that she had no belongings to pack. He had retaliated by picking up her chains from the floor and tucking them into his coffer. She had been looking daggers at him ever since, which he found vastly amusing.

Kristen waved to him and approached. She was all smiles, telling him either she was delighted that her home was about to return to some semblance of normalcy now that he was departing for his own, or she had thought of some mischief to bedevil him with.

“My son will complain mightily if you do not await his return,” she told him. Both children, along with young Meghan, had been sent to Royce’s cousin Alden as a precaution, because of Ragnar’s anticipated arrival. “They should be here shortly.”

“I am only changing where I sleep,” he reminded her. “With all the family here, I will, of course, ride over each day, or at least every other.”

“With your wife?”

He frowned, refusing to answer that. Kristen’s teasing wasn’t so easy to take when it
concerned one woman instead of women in general. Easiest was to ignore it.

To that end, he remarked, “I thought all of the king’s party had left with him.”

Kristen followed his gaze to the group of strangers Royce was still talking to. “Those are new arrivals who have business with Alfred. They were directed here; now we have directed them elsewhere.”

His eyes narrowed on one of the men. “That one in the middle looks somehow familiar to me. Has he ever been here before?”

“Lord Durwyn? Mayhap he has visited in the past, since Royce does seem acquainted with him, but not since I have lived here.”

Selig shrugged it off. Staring at the man was giving him a definite headache, and he had thought he was done with them for a while.

He continued to the front of the hall where Erika waited, Kristen falling into step beside him. Her thoughts went in a new direction as well.

“What is bothering your wife, that she is scowling at you so? Does she not want to leave Wyndhurst?”

Selig’s humor returned. “Nay, she just objects to taking her chains with us—ouch!” Kristen had punched his shoulder. “Now, what was that for?”

“For smiling when you said that,” Kristen grumbled. “You know how I feel—”

“Odin help me,” he cut in. “Do not start that again, sister. She is not wearing them, is she?”

“Which does not mean you will not force them on her again, does it?”

“As it happens—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, the new commotion at the gates drawing both their attention as the children and their escort arrived. Young Alfred was off his pony first and racing to his father, then his grandfather; then he came tearing across the bailey to throw himself at Selig. His mother was the last to be greeted, but she understood that he had reached that age where men came first.

Selig was laughing all the while, and the more so when Thora was brought forward by her nurse, and it was Selig the little girl reached for, not Kristen. He couldn’t resist the angel, of course, and drew her into his arms.

Not for the first time, he wished he had a daughter just like her. That his eyes happened to fall on Erika as he had the thought gave him a jolt, though. A wife, whose main duty to husband and church was the bearing of children. But not
his
wife, who was as pagan in her beliefs as he, and who had extracted a promise from him not to touch her. No children would be forthcoming from
that
bargain.

“Mayhap it
is
best you are leaving.”

It took a moment for Selig to tamp down the irritation his thoughts had caused, and to realize what his sister meant. “Now, do not be jealous, Kris.” He grinned at her. “Alden’s wife likely smothered Thora with so much affection, she wants naught more to do with women, even mothers.”

“I never noticed
you
having that problem.”

“How fortunate for me.”

She laughed then, because his look was so intentionally lecherous. He had not changed, her brother, just because he had a wife now. She wondered if that would be a problem for Erika. She knew it would have been for her.

Selig played his game of buzzing kisses with Thora for a few minutes, making her giggle and shriek with delight, before he turned her over to her mother. He then bade Erika come to him. She did so slowly, and ignored his motion for her to mount his horse.

“I will ride with Turgeis,” she said stiffly.

Her tone dictated his own. “You will ride with me.”

“Were there no other horses?”

“I saw no need to borrow more when ’tis just a short ride. Or mayhap you would prefer to walk—again?”