Chapter Seventeen
The work was done for the day, and Kristen was ready to drop gratefully onto her pallet. The sweltering heat had worn her ragged today, and there had been the added warmth of the hearth, near which she was chained, and no breeze to take some of its heat away.
She could have kissed Eda when she bent down to remove the new chain that Kristen was made to wear now, but she restrained herself.
Eda was still sulking over Kristen’s sharpness with her the other day.
Kristen had apologized later that same day, but it had not gone far toward appeasing the older woman.
And her sulking added to Kristen’s burden, for Eda was the only one she felt free to talk to.
With the old woman’s cold silence, Kristen’s day was dreary indeed.
Eda led Kristen away, but not to the stairs to retire.
She was told curtly that she was to have a bath.
As tired as she was, Kristen could not complain about that.
It would be only her second bath since she was brought into the hall.
She knew Darrelle bathed often through the week, as did Royce, but the servants rarely.
As accustomed to cleanliness as she was herself, the small container of water she was given daily to sponge herself with was just not adequate.
Simply the thought of being completely clean again perked up her spirits.
Yet she was not to have a leisurely bath, for other servants were waiting to make use of the same water.
She was first into the tub, however, which made all the difference.
The water was warm this time, and clean, and only Eda remained in the small room with her.
While Kristen bathed and quickly washed her hair, Eda scrubbed her only set of clothes.
She was given a tentlike robe of coarse, thin wool to wear for the night, while her clothes dried.
It was simply a long rectangle of gray cloth, with a circle cut out in the center for her head to slip through.
Wrapped around her sides and belted, it sufficed, though typically it fell short on her.
But she was naked underneath, and felt naked underneath.
The only reason she didn’t balk at wearing a garment without sewn side seams was that she was going straight to her chamber.
But Kristen was not going straight to her chamber as she had supposed. Upstairs, Eda pushed her past her door near the stairs and did not stop until the end of the corridor was reached, where the lord’s chamber was. Kristen backed away warily.
“Why?” she demanded as Eda knocked on the door.
Eda did not bother to look at her, but Kristen saw her shrug. “I do what I am told. The reasons are not explained to me.”
“He said he wanted to see me?”
“He told me to bring you here. And here you are.”
Eda opened the door and waited for Kristen to enter. Kristen hesitated, but only for a moment. She was not afraid, but she couldn’t think of a reason why she would be brought here at night. If Royce wanted to question her again, he would have done so during the day, wouldn’t he?
She stepped into the room, habit making her take small steps, even though Eda had not put her shackles back on after the bath.
As the last time she was brought here after her bath, Eda carried the shackles, and as the last time, she placed them on Royce’s table and then left the room, closing the door behind her.
He stood by one of the open windows in front of her, facing her.
She was familiar with this room now, so did not glance about it, but looked directly at Royce, waiting to learn what she was doing here.
She felt self-conscious in the robe now.
She should have balked at wearing it. If the belt loosened, she would be rendered practically naked.
That was no way to appear in the presence of this man.
A few days ago she might have considered such a tactic to break his control, but now she wasn’t sure she still wanted him.
No, that wasn’t true. She still wanted him.
What she wasn’t sure of was if it was such a good idea to get what she wanted.
“It has come to my attention that the clothes given to you do not fit you very well.”
This was the last thing Kristen expected to hear him say. That he was thinking of her clothes, when she had just been thinking of her clothes, gave her an impulse to giggle. She restrained herself.
“Did you only just notice?”
Royce frowned at her sarcasm. “There is a gown on my bed. See if it fits you.”
“You want me to try it on now?”
“Aye.”
“Do you leave, or will you stay to watch?”
Royce tensed at her taunting question. Of course she would not care if he watched or not. She was no doubt immune to having men see her naked. He felt his temper rising, and could not seem to stop it.
His tone was caustic when he replied. “I have no wish to see you disrobe, wench. I will give you my back until you have the gown on.”
Coward, she said to herself. To him she retorted, “How very noble of you.”
Kristen turned toward the bed to get the gown, but took only one step, then stopped abruptly.
The green velvet was spread out on the bed so she could see it clearly, including the pearl border.
But even if it wasn’t, she would have recognized the material of this particular gown.
It was her favorite, for her mother had made it for her, and her mother hated to sew, which was why the gown was so special to Kristen.
Brenna had spent many long hours on it last year to give it to her daughter for the winter solstice feast.
“What are you waiting for?”
Kristen glanced over her shoulder at him to see that he had not turned his back on her, but had been watching her.
She felt a trap as surely as if the hidden door had already sprung open.
There could be only one reason he would want to see her in that gown.
He thought it was hers. And no gown like that would belong to a whore. He must be thinking just that.
She had every right to be suspicious of his motives. She would be a fool to hide the fact that she knew what he was about. It was too obvious.
She decided to attack. “What does this mean?”
“What does what mean?”
She faced him, her eyes narrowing at his deliberate evasiveness. “Why would you want me to try on such a gown, milord?”
“I told you why.”
“Aye, to see if it fits me. And if it does, will you give it to me? I think not. So what is the purpose?”
“’Tis not your place to question my motives, wench.”
Irritation bubbled to the surface. “Tell that to your slaves who are born slaves! You forget who I am!”
“Nay!” he shouted at her. “’Tis who you are that is in question!”
“Again?” She feigned surprise now, but was in fact groaning inside to have his suspicions out in the open. “What has a gown to do with who I am?”
“’Tis yours, is it not?”
She wanted to curse him for being so perceptive, but smiled at him instead. “Is that what you think? Next you will be saying I am a virgin.”
“Are you?”
“Would you like to find out firsthand, milord?” she asked provocatively, daringly, playing the part, but praying he would not call her bluff.
Her sexual aggression had angered him before, and it did so again now.
He glowered at her in answer, and she laughed, pressing her point.
“Come now, milord. How can you think that someone like me could own a gown as fine as that one? ’Tis a gown for a princess, or a rich merchant’s wife. ”
“Or a whore with a rich lover who is too generous!” he snapped, not giving up.
Kristen gave him a saucy grin. “You give me more credit than I deserve, Saxon. Truly, you flatter me. But I assure you that if I had ever had a rich lover, I would not have let the fellow get away from me.”
“Very well, you have denied the gown is yours. Now appease me and put it on anyway.”
Curse him for a stubborn, pigheaded…“I will not. ’Tis cruel of you to ask me to.”
“Why?”
“’Twould be a luxury beyond measure to feel that velvet against my skin after wearing your coarse slave rags. But for how long can I wear it? Only until your ridiculous notions about me are satisfied,” she answered for him. “Then you give me back the rags. Is that not cruel?”
Royce smiled at her. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile. It eased the lean hardness of his face, and made her heart feel as if it had flipped over.
“You have a way with words, wench, and an answer for everything. But you overlook one thing. In your position, you have no decisions or choices to make. You do as you are bid, no matter what is bid, whether it seems cruel to you or not. Is that simple enough for you to understand?”
“Aye.”
“Then put the gown on.”
He had spoken in an agreeably soft tone, but this last was stated quite firmly.
He was determined to see her in that gown, no matter what she said.
And what he would see if she put it on, was that it fit her like a second skin, perfectly.
He would know it was hers. He would know she had lied.
If he could ask her tonight if she was a virgin, then something had already made him suspect that she was not a whore.
It was proof he wanted, proof he was set on having, one way or another, before she left this chamber.
He was wrong about one thing. She did have a choice to make.
She could put the gown on and watch him turn cruel and vengeful, and rape her viciously just on principle, because it was what he said he would do if she was a virgin.
Or she could entice him to make love to her in passion, because he wanted her, as she wanted him.