Chapter Twenty-Three
When Royce unlocked the door, Kristen was sitting with her back against the far wall, her knees bent before her to help her to rise quickly if necessary. She saw that he was not angry, yet. But he was certainly not pleased.
Coming straight from his bath, he wore only a long-sleeved white tunic and, over it, the type of robe that was given Kristen when she bathed, though his was of a fine quality, even to having an inch-deep border of green silk along every edge of the white linen that fell to his feet.
The white became him with his dark hair and summer-tanned skin.
If she were not furious with him, she knew she would be waiting breathlessly to see a bare leg when the robe parted as he walked. But she stared only at his face, lit by the tallow candle he held aloft so the light reached across to her.
“Eda has confessed to me why you are here once again instead of where you should be. I want to know why you thought you had gained freedom of the hall, when I said naught of that to you.”
Kristen was proud of the way her voice did not falter, sounding calm even to her ears.
“Tis simple, Saxon. You knew why I refused to share your bed this week past. Yet you took me to your bed yestereve. I was fool enough to assume that if you would do that, then you must have relented concerning my restraints.”
“You are correct,” he replied curtly. “’Twas a fool assumption indeed. I told you why you must be fettered. I also told you the alternatives.”
Kristen was no longer so calm, hearing him actually confirm what she had concluded. “I spit on your alternatives! I will wear your cursed fetters, but I want no more of you. I cannot bear your tender care and the chains too.”
He walked slowly toward her. Warily she rose to her feet, but he stopped short of her, two arms’ lengths away.
“I thought you stronger than this, wench.”
She gasped at the deliberate slur. “I am not without mettle, milord. My father was captured and imprisoned in his youth. My mother endured enslavement for a time as well. I am what my parents have made me, and I would not be a credit to them if I could not endure enslavement myself. For me ’tis a fit punishment for defying my parents to sail with my brother.
I can endure, Royce. But there is a limit to what I will endure without a fight.
Leave me be from now on and you will have no problem with me. ”
“I cannot,” he replied simply. “And you do not really want me to ignore you, Kristen.”
“I do. I want you no more.”
He did not like what he was hearing at all, and it showed in the tight slant of his lips, the turbulent green of his eyes. “You can say that after last eve?”
“Aye.”
“Liar. You want me still and I will prove it.”
She snorted contemptuously at the challenge.
“Stubbornness is one of my faults, inherited from my mother. She once refused to speak to my father because of an argument they had, and did not say one word to him for an entire month. And they are two people who love each other passionately. Mayhap I do still want you, Royce, because I am attracted to you and that cannot be helped. But you will never hear me admit it, nor will I accept you willingly again, because when you chain me, you show me that I am nothing to you, that you bear me no feelings at all. I need more than that from the man I give myself to. I need more than just passion.”
“So you will deny us both?”
Kristen closed her eyes for a moment as bitter disappointment washed over her. What had she expected him to reply? I care for you, Kristen. Of course I have feelings for you, strong feelings. How could you doubt it? Fool! She would never hear such things from him.
She opened her eyes to see that his expression was still tight-lipped.
But now a muscle ticked along his jaw. The hand at his hip was clenched into a fist. The dark eyebrows had moved closer together and the eyes were mere slashes of green.
He was angry at last. Good. At least he shared something with her.
“Answer me, wench!”
“Aye, milord. I will deny us both.”
“The devil you will! You have had your say. Now hear me. Whether I have you or not is my choice, not yours. I let the decision rest with you for a while, but ’twas a mistake, and I learn from my mistakes.
Giving you the choice only served to make you think you had a right to choose.
You do not, Kristen. I own you. Your life, your body, your mind, all belong to me. ”
The callousness of that statement enraged her.
“Never! You own me, true, for you can kill me, sell me, rape me, whatever pleases you. But ’twill not always be so, for if I am sold, or escape, or am taken from you, then you own me no more.
And belong to you! Think it if you will, but unless I want it to be so, then the word has no meaning.
I would have to love you to truly belong to you.
I would have to want to never leave you, to want to return to you if I do. ”
“I do not ask for your love,” he said harshly.
“Good!” she retorted in kind. “Because I will not give it. You speak of choices. Aye, whether you have me or not is your choice. Whether I am willing to have you is my choice. I am not willing, Saxon.”
“So you will fight me?”
“Aye.”
“You have already learned ’tis pointless.”
“Nay, what I have learned is how easily you can be manipulated by a mere challenge,” she was angry enough to admit now.
With a derisive laugh, she went on to taunt: “You have yet to taste the full measure of my resistance, Saxon. You did naught yestereve that I did not want you to do, for I wanted you then. But if you force me now and I fight you true, I promise you will get no pleasure from it.”
Her taunting worked to fire his rage. He swore harshly, throwing the candle to the floor in his anger. It seemed his hands were on her even before the flame was extinguished, though she did not see him leap at her.
One hand slid down her arm to fasten on her wrist, and she was pulled after him toward the door.
Kristen waited until they were in the narrow corridor to yank her hand away.
She succeeded, and had the pleasure of hearing Royce swear again as she ran toward the stairs.
He knocked her to the floor before she reached them, his body falling heavily on top of hers.
As soon as he lifted some of his weight to rise, allowing her to do the same, Kristen jabbed backward with her elbow.
She connected with his belly and heard him grunt.
With enough room between them now, she rolled to the side and would have kicked him even farther away if he hadn’t thrown an arm over her legs.
In the next moment he caught her hand and she found herself hefted over his shoulder.
Royce had trouble rising with her squirming weight, but rise he did and start toward his room.
Kristen, however, was nowise done with him.
Hanging halfway down his back, she reached up behind her to grab a handful of his hair.
She jerked so hard she would have broken the neck of a less powerful man.
As it was, Royce lost his balance and slammed into the wall.
Kristen gasped, feeling herself falling, and landed on her backside this time. But she did not let go of Royce’s hair, which brought him to his knees beside her.
Royce growled furiously and knocked her hand away, leaving her with a fistful of his hair. This time when he caught her wrist, he twisted it around behind her back and up, until she thought he meant to break the arm. His intention, however, was to force her to rise—which she did, quickly.
He kept her in front of him now, and if she did not walk forward, the arm bent higher. He got her into his room this way, and once there, he shoved her forcefully away from him.
Kristen stumbled only slightly, but caught herself and swung around to face him. Calmly he locked the door. Just as calmly, he walked over and tossed the key out the open window, the gesture more than intimidating.
She felt a shiver rush down her back. But he did not approach her yet.
The room was well lit, and she could see a cold look of determination on his face as he glanced at her.
But he did not approach her. Instead he went to the bed.
There, taking the cover in hand, he used his dagger to cut thin strips from it.
Kristen’s eyes widened on seeing this. It didn’t dawn on her yet what he meant to do with those thin strips of cloth. She simply thought him insane, for the cover was a work of beauty, made of soft sheepskin and finely embroidered with half a dozen different colored threads.
Royce stopped when he had four long pieces cut.
He moved to tie a strip to one of the low posts on the bed, then moved to the next post. Watching him, Kristen was stunned, but only for a moment.
She felt as if her heart had dropped into her belly, for there was only one reason she could think of for what he was doing.
A half yell, half groan ripped from her throat and she ran to the wall of weapons, yanking down a hefty broadsword. He was crazy!
“Put it back, Kristen.”
His voice sounded so reasonable. How could he sound so reasonable when he meant to torture her?
“Nay!” She turned to glare at him. “You will have to kill me afore I let you practice your cruelties on me!”
He shook his head at her and continued tying a cloth to the third post, then went on to the fourth. He was watching not her, but what he was doing. She did not take her eyes from him, though, and saw a slight smile curling his lips. It turned her blood cold, for there was nothing of humor in it.
The sword was heavy, much heavier than anything she had ever practiced with.
But standing there watching him until he was done had cost her the chance to pick another.
She was not thinking clearly at all. She realized now, too late, that she should have attacked him instead of waiting until he gave her his full attention.