Surrender My Love (25 page)

“I will not have it!” she told her son, though it was at Erika’s chains that she was looking so balefully. “Remove them. What you do later is your concern, but you have her consent for this wedding. You have agreed to it yourself. She will not go to it chained any more than you will.”

Selig didn’t argue, though it was a close thing, so annoyed was he. But with an expression of chagrin and not a little embarrassment at being so sharply upbraided, he simply slapped the key into his mother’s hand and stalked off to await them below.

“Thank you,” Erika said in a small voice.

Brenna gave her an impatient look before she started opening the shackles. “Do not thank me.
You are as like to have them back as not. I wouldst suggest you learn quickly how to deal with my son. You will be the happier for it—and so will he.”

Erika didn’t expect to ever be happy again, but refrained from saying so. “I am not actually willing to marry him,” she said instead.

Brenna sighed. “No one supposes that you are, child. But whatever means he used to gain your consent for this wedding, be glad for it. There would eventually have been bloodshed without it.”

At the moment, Erika did not feel like being a martyr to save many lives. If her brother’s was not one of them—Nay, she was forgetting what might have happened in the stable, what had frightened her so badly that she was willing to marry a man who hated her instead.

“Here,” Brenna said as she stood up from removing the last of the shackles. She handed all three to Erika. “Put these away while I fetch you a gown. My daughter has suggested one of hers, since you are closer to her height than to that of any of the other women here.”

Another shock, Kristen doing something nice for her, and that on top of Lady Brenna’s taking Erika’s side against her son—in the matter of the chains. It was the wedding, and the fact that however unwelcome she was, she was still soon to be part of their family. But she didn’t expect these kindnesses to last beyond this day.

Brenna actually left her standing there alone while she continued down the hall to her
daughter’s chamber. And Erika held her chains in her fist. For the moment, she was as free as she had ever been here, as free as she was ever likely to be. Yet were there stone walls still between her and her brother. Freedom from chains didn’t mean she could escape her fate. She was as trapped as if she still wore them.

She returned to Selig’s chamber, taking wide steps because she could. But she didn’t move to his coffer to put the chains inside it. She walked straight to the window and tossed them out of it. And she smiled with actual pleasure for the first time since she had been taken from her home.

“This will do nicely, I think.”

Erika turned to see Brenna with a long-sleeved chainse draped over one arm, in a shade so light a blue it nigh matched her eyes. And over the other arm, a sleeveless outer gown of midnight-blue in the rare velvet prized by kings. It was trimmed in thick silver braid along the slit sides and hem, and across the deeply scooped bodice. There was also a gossamer headdress in the light blue, with a silver circlet set with sapphires to hold it in place atop her head. The girdle was wide, of brocaded silk, with more of the silver braid sewn to it.

“They are too fine,” Erika said in soft appreciation.

“Not for this occasion. We have appearances to maintain, despite the circumstances. And I heard the Saxon king say he would escort you to the groom himself.”

Why not, since he was responsible for this farce? But Erika didn’t say that. She dressed hurriedly at Brenna’s urging, and, surprisingly, with her help. Selig’s mother even combed her hair and arranged the sheer veil, and pinched her cheeks to put some color in them.

Erika wanted to thank the lady again, and in an odd way she did by saying, “I could wish you had raised a less vindictive son.”

Brenna actually smiled. “I have not raised
any
vindictive sons. When you finally see that for yourself, this battle between you and Selig will end.”

Which made not a bit of sense to Erika, but nothing did today, especially why Selig would marry her when that was the last thing he could really want to do.

She was to be even more grateful for the fine raiments Brenna had picked for her when she noted the richly garbed court ladies who were to witness the wedding. And Selig would have had her wear those ugly and ill-fitting servant’s garments—and chains. Her humiliation would have been extreme if not for the intervention of his mother and sister. Which was no doubt what he had hoped for.

Yet when she was led to him, he did not seem annoyed to see her dressed so. He was startled, certainly, before he concealed it beneath an inscrutable visage.

He waited for her, magnificent, on the steps of the small chapel which was in the bailey. The ceremony would take place there, allowing all to hear the solemn words intoned by the bishop,
who stood with Selig. And the King of Wessex did indeed escort her.

Alfred was a surprise to her, as was his one remark. “You are the envy of every woman here, Lady Erika.”

The words were Danish. She was not surprised he could speak her language, with as much contact as he had had with Danes for most of his life. His age surprised her, though, for he appeared no older than Selig. And he dressed no finer than his other courtiers. In fact, she would not have known who he was if she had not heard him addressed by name.

As for his remark, any comment she would have made to it would have embarrassed them both, for she did not feel very charitable at the moment. So she made none, and kept to herself that she would gladly let any woman there trade places with her. Envy? They did not know Selig Haardrad as she did. They knew only his charming side, which she could not deny she had seen, though not experienced, while she knew only what cruelties he was capable of.

And that would not change just because he could now call her wife. That designation merely offered him more opportunities to make her miserable.

The ceremony was over much too quickly. In fact, no more than an hour had passed from his telling her they would marry to their becoming, officially, man and wife. And she realized only afterward that she had been given no time to really think about what she had agreed to. Without such haste, she might have…

But it was done. She had a husband now. And examining that thought too closely would likely lead to hysterics.

The celebration feast that followed was a mockery as far as Erika was concerned. She had nothing to celebrate, and neither did Selig, yet they sat through it, side by side, enduring the good-natured jests and crudities that typically accompanied a wedding. In fact, everyone was enjoying himself, except the newly married pair.

Even Selig’s family was in high good cheer, which Erika found strange, since she had come to understand that they all cared for him a great deal. It was the atmosphere, she supposed, and the fact that Selig didn’t look nearly as gloomy as she did. Could they actually think he was pleased with the outcome of the day, and were happy for him? Obviously, he was merely putting a fine face on it for their benefit.

Selig downed yet another tankard of ale. He had given up trying to keep track of the constant swing of his emotions. And he had given up trying to ignore his
wife
.

She was not to have sat beside him until she called him master, yet here she sat. But she would be calling him husband now, and were they not one and the same, master, husband? They were supposed to be, but
she
would never think so.

He could have had any woman he wanted—anyone but this one. And yet he had this one. She was most definitely his now. He just didn’t
know what to do with her now that she had gone from slave to wife.

Had he really agreed never to touch his own wife? But he hadn’t agreed to forgo his revenge. He would still have that. Wasn’t that why he had married her?

Damned emotions weren’t making sense today. She was beautiful, and miserable, and he found it difficult keeping his eyes from her. Yet the more dismal she looked, the more annoyed he became.

It was her wedding day. Brides were supposed to be happy on their wedding day. His bride should have been the happiest of all. It wasn’t conceit that made him think so, but his experience of women and their reaction to him. Yet Erika would not even make a pretense of happiness for the benefit of their guests.

He finally told her, sharply, “This is not a funeral. If you are so uncomfortable, you may return to my chamber—and your place in it.”

Erika flushed, though no one else had heard him say that. And even if he had been overheard, only a few knew that her “place” was a corner on the floor. She should have been only relieved, that that was where she was still to sleep. He was keeping their bargain. So why was she embarrassed and—and she wasn’t sure what else?

That was a lie. She knew what else. But, Odin help her, how could she possibly be feeling disappointment? It had been her insistence that he not touch her—though made for reasons other than the obvious. She was simply
afraid of the passion he had shown her, which she liked too much.

’Tis likely you will come to love him
.

His sister’s words had never stopped haunting her. She was afraid of that, too, because he didn’t give her enough reasons to really hate him. He tried, but embarrassments were immediate and soon forgotten.

He has never hurt a woman in his life
.

Was it true, then, his father’s contention? And if it was, then what Selig had threatened to do to her today was a lie. He wouldn’t have been able to do it.

She took his permission to leave the hall gladly. She needed to be away from his disturbing presence so she could think more clearly. That he let her go without an escort was a revelation. If the marriage had done nothing else, it had apparently given her back some freedom. And the damned chains were gone…

The damned chains were back on Selig’s bed when she entered his chamber, retrieved by someone who knew exactly whom they belonged to—him—her. Selig probably wasn’t even aware that she had given in to that act of defiance.

The chains went flying out the window again, and it gave her just as much pleasure to toss them out this time as before. Now if she could just find as much pleasure sleeping on the floor on her wedding night.

Chapter 31

R
AGNAR MADE
K
RISTEN
wait nearly an hour up on the wall before he answered her request for another talk between them. The discourtesy was the prerogative of a superior position, which he thought he still held. The only reason she didn’t lose her temper or simply leave was because of the pleasure she was going to get from disabusing him of that notion.

Royce had less patience. He left and returned three times in that hour that they waited, and nearly dragged Kristen down from the wall the fourth time he stalked off, he was so annoyed with Erika’s brother.

Her mother didn’t bother to join them on the wall, since she spoke no Danish. But her father was there beside her, could have spoken with Ragnar himself, though he declined, knowing how much Kristen was looking forward to it this time.

And Selig, that sot, was no doubt still abed after drinking himself under the table last eventide. If he had been able to consummate his marriage after Royce and Ivarr had carried him up to his bed, it would be a miracle. But
Ragnar wasn’t going to know that. By the time Kristen was done with him, he would think his sister well and truly wed and bedded, with no recourse for undoing the marriage open to him. That is, if he ever bothered to make an appearance.

Turgeis came first, alone, to tell her that if she had nothing new to add to what had been discussed yesterday, Ragnar wasn’t going to waste his time speaking to her again. He seemed embarrassed to have delivered that message. But Kristen showed none of the anger it was to have sparked. She felt it keenly, she just didn’t show it.

But she did retaliate in kind by replying, “The only one who might have anything to repeat is your Lord Ragnar. The only thing I have to discuss is his sister—and her
new
situation.”

She also added that she would wait five minutes more and not one minute longer, and if Ragnar hadn’t come forth in that time, then
he
could wait until some other day to find out what had occurred to Erika since last they spoke.

Kristen pitied Turgeis’s horse, having to support that kind of weight at that speed. But he did ride back to camp at a tearing gallop, and Ragnar was back with him in less than five minutes.

“I see now why you call Turgeis Ten Feet the ’giant,’ but you should have taken pity on him,” Garrick said beside her. “He only repeated what he was bidden to say.”

“So?”

“So he is a man sick with worry over his lady, and with no control over what happens here.”

“I saw Turgeis break a man’s neck with a slight twist of his hands,” Kristen replied. “Somehow, that does not inspire pity.”

Garrick grinned at her droll tone. “Yet he is not the one you are annoyed with.”

“True.” She sighed. “I suppose I could apologize to him—afterward. That is, if I have the nerve to get anywhere near him ever again. I tried it once, and would not like to repeat the experience. Up here on the wall, with him down there on the ground, is close enough—”

She didn’t finish, since Ragnar had arrived. He didn’t come as close this time, which would force them both to shout. And he didn’t look the least bit disturbed over the message she had sent back with Turgeis. Confident was how he looked, and arrogant in his possession of the upper hand.

“What say you, Lady Kristen?” Ragnar shouted. “And be quick about it.”

She did say something, a few choice curses that he wasn’t like to hear. Her father pointed out the obvious. “You are whispering.”

“I know.”

Ragnar could hear none of it from the distance he had chosen. “Speak up, lady!”

She put her hands to her mouth as if to shout, and whispered again—for her father’s benefit. “If he thinks I am going to strain my
voice just because he has a louder one and is comfortable raising it, he can think again.”