Surrender My Love (21 page)

“You mean he does not enslave every woman who has him lashed?”

“Do not be flip with me, child,” he admonished gently. “What I meant was, he has never hurt a woman in his life. He adores them.”

“Except me.”

“Except you,” he agreed.

She thought the conversation had ended. The argument still raged behind her. But Garrick did not step away from her just yet.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he remarked, “My daughter is quite fierce in her championing of your cause.”

Erika snorted at that. She couldn’t help it. “Your daughter would not lift a finger to
help me. She merely detests the sight of these chains.”

“Do not be too sure of Kristen’s motives. Selig’s behavior has her baffled.”

“But not you?”

“Not completely.”

“You imply that men understand revenge much better than women? I doubt that.”

“So now you hunger for revenge as well?”

Erika was surprised, not at the question, but at her answer. “I have not once thought of revenge. Freedom is all I think of. But I suppose eventually I will also think of revenge.”

“Then let us hope you have your freedom before then,” he said.

More surprise, much stronger. “You do not condone what he does?”

“’Tis not in his nature to be cruel or abusive. This is what has his sister baffled. What I feel is that he will come to regret what he is doing.”

“You could insist he end it.”

He smiled at her, not unkindly. “If you have not noticed, Erika of Gronwood, my son is of an age where he no longer must heed his father. I can do no more than advise him.”

“Will you?”

“Not about you. My wife and I have decided not to interfere.”

Another brief span of hope most thoroughly crushed. Bitterly, Erika turned her back on him to face the rest of the family again. But the rest of the family was no longer there. Only Selig and Royce remained, and Selig had
swung around on his bench to watch her—and had likely heard a good deal of what had been said.

Her chin lifted a notch in defiance, only to feel the tug on her neck that pulled her slowly forward. He was winding the chain around his fist. If he continued, he would have her bent over him again. He didn’t go quite that far, but she was now so close to him, he had to look up at her. He didn’t seem to mind that.

Behind him on the table, she noted that someone had brought him a trencher of food, though it was not near to the dinner hour. The man had had enough food in the past fortnight to feed an army, and the women of this hall were still determined to fatten him more. She began to wonder just how large a man he had been before that head injury.

“You may sit here beside me to eat if you are ready to call me master.”

Her eyes came back to him and narrowed. “That is not what I would call you.”

He grinned to show he didn’t mistake her meaning. “Then you can eat from my hand, at my feet.”

She was surprised he did not add, “Like a dog.” “I will not eat at all, thank you.”

“I think you will. Food is necessary to your continued health, which I mean to maintain. Clothes, on the other hand, are not.”

Every last bit of color fled her face. He would do it. He would strip her naked before all these people. How better to humiliate her utterly, and that was what he was striving for, after all.

But her mood was not very tractable at the moment, possibly because she was certain it would come to this eventually, no matter what she did. He would see to that. So now or later, what difference?

“Do as you will,” she said with as much nonchalance as she could manage.

“I intend to, wench, exactly what I will.”

He laughed, noting her stiffness and that she was braced for the worse. It was more than satisfaction, having this advantage over her. The pleasure he felt was so great, it was almost sexual. He would not lose it due to a disagreement with a king.

“But for today,” he continued, “you are reprieved from deciding your own fate. My sister has convinced me it would not be in my best interest to introduce you to the Saxon king. We will have to wait until he departs to find out if you will eat from my hand—or call me master.”

Erika hoped the king moved his court to Wyndhurst and stayed indefinitely. What she had to face when he left was intolerable.

Chapter 25

F
OR THE NEXT
two days, Erika was left alone more than not. She didn’t mind that, even though her movements were restricted to her corner of Selig’s chamber. He had not only locked the door that day he had returned her abovestairs just before the king’s arrival, he had also chained her to the wall. He was taking no chances during his absence. And the same was done each day since.

It amused her that he must think she would try to break her neck crawling out the window. Or mayhap he thought she would try to drown herself in the tub of dirty water that had gone unemptied, the servants were so busy with the royal guests. And those royal guests…

Three times, women had come scratching at the door, Saxon ladies by the sound of them, each in search of Selig, who must have momentarily left the hall to make them think he had come up here. Erika wondered how many other times he had entertained court ladies in this chamber, for those three to find it so unerringly. And where was he entertaining them now, with his chamber already occupied,
and no doubt every other chamber as well?

Eda came as usual with food, and now with a chamber pot, since she could not release the chain from the wall any more than Erika could, and Selig was rarely there to do it. The old servant no longer looked at her with the disapproval she had first displayed. Her gaze had become more in the way of pitying, which Erika did not exactly appreciate.

She
was
going to be freed from this predicament. It was just a matter of time. And since she had yet to succumb to self-pity, she wanted none from anyone else.

Yesterday, Eda had chatted amiably about the king and his courtiers, expecting no response from Erika and getting none. Apparently Alfred was traveling lightly, not with his full court, and was expected to move on in a few days—which wasn’t pleasant news for Erika.

Today, however, Eda didn’t just chat to hear herself talk. For the first time she got personal, and surprised Erika with the remark, “You cannot imagine how much you remind me of my Kristen—except she was a fighter.”

Erika could not remain silent after that. “Meaning I am not?”

“You make no complaints, lady. You let that rascal have his way.”

Erika was incredulous. “I do not see how I am to stop him.”

“Do you not? My Lord Royce was a much harder man. He lost half his family in a Viking
attack. But Kristen brought him around. And she got him to unchain her simply because he knew she hated those chains. Does Selig know you hate them, or do you let him think you do not care?”

Erika had taken just that approach, but explained herself defensively. “Selig wants revenge on me. It would delight him to know I hate the chains.”

Eda snorted. “Revenge is new to that young man. I doubt me he knows what he wants. But ’tis a lady’s man you do war with. He lives to please women. Hurting them is alien to him. If he thought he was actually hurting you, I wonder how much longer the hurt would continue.”

After Eda left, Erika spent a long while considering what had been said. Hurting women might be alien to Selig, but he was learning quick enough how to go about it—nay, that was unfair. Not once, actually, had Erika been hurt by him. A few raw scrapes that she had caused herself did not count. Nor the few blisters on her feet that had bled and might have been prevented if she could have unbent enough to ask for her shoes. And the blow to her cheek had not been his fault, had in truth been stopped by him.

A great deal of embarrassment was all she had suffered at his hands—and the loss of her freedom, which would in fact hurt quite seriously if she didn’t get it back. But what did that say for Selig? Was Eda right? Would his campaign of revenge end if he thought he was
doing her serious harm? If she cried, if she whined and complained…

Erika’s cheeks pinkened merely at the thought. She couldn’t do those things—not unless she had no other hope. Her pride simply wouldn’t unbend that much.

And she
did
have hope, her brother. She would ride away from this place and never see these people again, never be reminded of the humiliations she had suffered here, never—That was not quite true. How was she going to forget a man like Selig Haardrad when she could picture him so clearly in her mind, he might as well be standing before her? And she was afraid that image was not going to fade for many a year.

The object of nearly all of her thoughts lately joined her early that afternoon, and he was wearing the smile she had learned to dread. The first thing he did was release her from the wall, but he didn’t give her the chain as he usually did. He drew her up with it instead.

“You are in luck, wench,” Selig said, humor in his tone. “That matter you and I have to settle need not wait until Alfred departs.”

Erika groaned inwardly, fully aware of what matter he spoke of. “Why not?”

“Royce has taken the king and his party hunting. They will be away for several hours at the least. Only a few lords remain behind, and most of the ladies.”

“Why did you not join the hunt? Or have you overtaxed yourself with the revelries below?”

“How hopeful you sound, yet I fear I must
disappoint you,” he replied, trying for an apologetic tone, though he couldn’t quite manage it. “I simply preferred to spend the time…with you.”

“The feeling is, of course, not mutual.”

He laughed. He was in splendid good cheer and brimming with anticipation. And she knew just what he anticipated. He would not even care which answer she gave him. Either one would suit his purpose.

“You have had ample time to dwell on my ultimatum—”

“I have not thought of it at all,” she cut in quickly with the lie.

But procrastination was not going to work. “How unfortunate, yet not really necessary,” he took pleasure in telling her. “Little thought is required to decide if you will call me master—or not. Wear no more than your chains—or not. Which do you choose, Erika No Heart?”

“Neither.”

“You think to feed from my hand, at my feet? I no longer offer you that choice now. Mayhap some other time, but not right now.”

“And I accept none of what you do offer.”

“On the contrary. I would say you have made your choice quite clearly.”

Erika took a step back from him in denial, but the chain wouldn’t let her go very far, and he simply used it to pull her close again.

Her voice rose, measured by her alarm. “I said I do not accept your ridiculous choices.”

He replied in a tone one might reserve for
slow-witted children. “But you were not given that option. You must abide those you were given, and as you have already decided the matter—”

“I did not!”

“Then I beg your pardon. I could have sworn I did not hear the name ‘master’ come from your lips. I will allow I was mistaken, if you will but repeat it now.”

In answer, her lips compressed so tightly they whitened. He wasn’t displeased to see that, though. Quite the contrary. He laughed.

“Nay?” He said it for her. “Then it seems I was correct the first time. You have decided to flaunt what meager charms you have for all to see. I am sure those left in the hall will find the spectacle most amusing. You may remove your clothing now.”

If he was trying to make her “supposed” choice sound the worst of two evils, he was succeeding admirably. She detested the way he toyed with her, and that he took such pleasure in it. But Erika was not going to concede graciously or otherwise this time.

“I have no intention of amusing anyone,” she said stonily, “least of all you. If you have not noticed, lackwit, I am not cooperating.”

He seemed surprised, as if he really hadn’t anticipated refusal. Certainly he was not amused. His sudden frown might be feigned, but she doubted it.

“Flagrant defiance?”

She nodded. “This is your idea, not mine. You want my clothes off, you must take them
yourself. But do not expect me to stand here meekly the while you do.”

The frown only lasted a few moments more, before it was erased with the rumble of a deep chuckle. “I am likely more adept at it than you anyway. But come, you are at a disadvantage, all enchained. Give me your wrists and I will release you.”

Fairness? From him? She should have been immediately suspicious,
was
suspicious, but the lure of freedom was too great a temptation to ignore. And he had already produced a key, which he held out toward her. Mayhap he really did want more of a challenge, now that his damned game was to become physical. Either way, it would indeed be to her advantage not to be so encumbered.

She thrust her wrists out. Too late did she realize that her gowns would not come off without being cut off unless at least one of her wrists was freed. But before she jerked her hands back, one shackle was off and dangling from the other. And his expression said exactly what she now surmised. His trick had worked, and it had indeed been a trick.

To show her appreciation, she swung the loose shackle at his head. As a weapon, it was more than adequate. Her skill in using it, however, was not. Selig ducked right handily and caught the wrist that was still chained, bringing it up behind her back.

This, unfortunately, put her within easy reach of him, and while she was trying to push him away with her freed hand, to no
avail, he was working the knot on her rope girdle loose with his own free hand. He succeeded where she did not, and before he let go of her, he caught a fistful of her outer gown and yanked upward. As loose as that gown was, the material rose without a hitch—until it encountered Erika’s arms, which refused to rise with it.

For a moment she thought she might have defeated him, but he didn’t force the matter, content to leave her buried and helpless beneath the outer gown that now hung over her head, while he went after the laces on the tighter chainse beneath. With her arms now trapped, her face covered by material, she shrieked in rage, and tried to twist away from him. An arm around her waist prevented that. So she fought to at least get her arms loose in order to do some damage. But she no sooner got the material back down from her face than the other gown started to rise.