Surrender My Love (31 page)

Her only recourse would be to hug her resentment to herself and deny Selig his marital rights—if he would allow that. That was supposing, of course, that his regret was not so great that he wouldn’t come to her again. And verily, why should he when he had women like Lida available to him?

Mayhap she wouldn’t apologize after all.

Turgeis had waited for her in his chamber, leaving the door open so he would hear her, spending the time sharpening his weapons. He followed her down to the hall now with no more than a grunt in greeting. Typical, yet had she expected more from him this morn, since he was aware that Selig had come to her last night, just as he was aware that he had not come all those other nights.

The hall was nigh empty, the hour was so late—she had overslept. As usual, Turgeis went to a different table to break his fast. Erika, preferring to have company today, even silent company, broke their custom and joined him.

“You should not,” was all he said.

She ignored him. Golda, who had also heard him, did not. “She is the lady here,” she said with sharp scolding. “She can do as she likes.”

That wasn’t exactly true, though it certainly sounded nice to Erika. Turgeis made no comment, just glared at the woman until she moved off.

Erika hid a smile beneath her hand. She had noticed that Golda seemed to single Turgeis out for complaints or ridicule, and by the look of him, he was getting mighty annoyed by it. That he never said anything to her in reply or defense was just his way.

He caught Erika watching him and grunted. “That woman is a harridan.”

She revealed her grin now, teasing, “Mayhap she just likes you, to single you out so.”

He blushed at the suggestion. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her friend blush before. And his eyes sought out Golda again and somehow looked at her differently this time. Erika’s own eyes widened. She had been teasing, but what if she was right?

She looked at Golda again, too, and wondered if she ought to try, one more time, to speak to a woman on Turgeis’s behalf. Nay, she had enough troubles of her own. And Golda’s attitude wasn’t exactly encouraging. Besides, Turgeis could do something about it if
he
was interested.

When they were near done with their meal, she asked him, “Do you know where Selig is this morn?”

“Working on the wall.”

She should have guessed. If Selig was not over at Wyndhurst, then he was working on the defenses here, and so it had been all week.

She had been told that the feast he had planned to celebrate the completion of his hall was now being put off until the outer wall was finished. At the rate the wall was going up, that feast might be sometime next week.

She was not looking forward to it herself, not being certain of her role in it, and certainly not having anything she wished to celebrate. But everyone else here was, which gave both servants and warriors alike the incentive to get the wall finished the soonest; in fact, everyone was working on it, even Turgeis, as long as Erika remained outside where he could see her.

She didn’t do so often, at least not when Selig was there, for the simple reason that the weather was so warm, the men would strip down to their leggings by midday. And it didn’t matter that there were dozens of bare chests to look at—the sight of Selig’s bare chest always disturbed her. It was no wonder she had succumbed so easily last night. She had been primed for it without realizing it.

But the hour was still early enough that she didn’t expect to see any bare skin yet, so it was safe to seek out her husband and, depending on his own reaction to her appearance, request a private word to tender her apology for losing her temper last night. If his regret was obvious, however, then she would say nothing. That would, after all, be the end of it, and today would be no different from yesterday, when she had assumed he was sleeping with
Lida and could have cheerfully murdered the unfaithful wretch.

She waited until Turgeis finished eating, because she knew he would follow her outside, and so he did. And Selig was easy to find, not actually working on the wall with the rest of the men, but on the gate, which was being put together in the center of the yard, the master builder on loan from Royce standing there directing. But there was one other there helping, if what Lida was doing could be called help.

Selig, bent over the frame of the gate, hammering, seemed not to be paying the woman any mind, yet how could he not? She was bent over him, actually leaning against his hips and back to reach his shoulders, which she was apparently massaging. But it looked to Erika like she was doing no more than caressing him—with both her body and her hands.

Had she witnessed this yesterday, she would simply have turned around and returned to the hall, keeping her feelings to herself even had she choked on them. But after last night, she didn’t feel like keeping quiet. The man had lied to her to break down her defenses. One woman was not enough for him—even a dozen were not enough. He had to bed his wife, too, and lie to do it.

She couldn’t contain herself. She screeched at the top of her lungs, turning heads and stopping all work. Then she picked up her skirts and ran to the hall, not to retreat, but to find a weapon. She was going to geld that
bastard she was married to, then pin his leman to the rafters by her hair.

“Erika!”

She didn’t stop, though it sounded as if Selig had given chase. She was sure of it when he called again, much closer, and although she had just entered the hall, she knew she would never make it up the stairs to Turgeis’s store of weapons before he reached her. Those damn long legs. She needed an immediate weapon, but there was nothing in the entire hall suitable to ward him off. All the tables had been cleared already, except the one where she and Turgeis had eaten.

She rounded that table now to put it between them and grabbed whatever came to hand. She threw what remained of the meal, both wooden bowls that still had dregs of porridge in them, a smattering of bread and cheese, the spoons, the saltcellar—all went sailing through the air toward Selig’s head. If she could have lifted the bench, she would have thrown that, too.

He managed to dodge or block most of her missiles, except for the ground salt, which ended up showering him with grayish-brown crystals. It went well with the few splatters of porridge on his cheek. He looked comical, but she was too furious to appreciate that. It was his expression, so incredulous over what she had done. He thought her mad.

He said as much, yelled it, actually. “You are mad, woman!”

“Am I?” she yelled back.

She was looking around for something else to throw. He vaulted over the table before she found it and started shaking her. Some of the salt fell from his shoulders with his movements, but most of it was still clinging to him from head to toe.

A low rumble sounded near them. “No shaking.”

They both turned to see Turgeis standing there, arms crossed, fully prepared to intervene. His expression was deadly serious.

Selig demanded of him, “Do you see what she has done to me?”

Turgeis couldn’t miss it, but still he maintained, “No shaking.”

Selig growled in exasperation, but he nonetheless dropped his hands from Erika. She swung at him when he did, but only managed to connect with his upper arm. No damage to him, but more salt fell.

“What in the name of all the gods has got into you, wench?” Selig roared.

“You are a liar, Viking!” she told him. “A despicable liar. And a lecher. You should be fourscore years to be such a lecher as you are.”

He didn’t know what he might have lied about, but lecher was clear enough, and he was incredulous again. “You are jealous?”

“I am disgusted,” she corrected him.

“You
are
jealous,” he insisted, and suddenly he was grinning.

She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I care not how many women you service, but you will not include me in their number and then go
back to them. That is not jealousy. That is what I will not tolerate as your wife.”

Had she been thinking clearly, she would have known she was overstepping her bounds. A wife did not dictate; a wife was dictated to. But Selig happened to come from a family whose women were notorious dictators. He wasn’t offended or even angry at her display of fury. He was, in fact, delighted that she was demanding her rights, because of the reason she was doing so. She was jealous.

He was still grinning. He couldn’t help it. “Since you are not jealous, but only disgusted, might I ask what brought about your…disgust?”

“So you would play the simpleton as well as the jester? I am not blind!”

“Ah, her.”

“Aye,
her
. And as long as she resides under this roof, I will reside under my brother’s.”

“Nay, that is not an option.”

“Then get rid of her!”

As it happened, Selig had already decided to do just that. Lida was a definite nuisance in that she refused to accept rejection. But now he pretended to consider the matter for the first time.

“That is not a bad idea. I will ask my men if one would like to take Lida to wife.” Then he reconsidered. “Nay, she was expensive. I doubt one of them would be willing to pay her price.”

“Then lower her price.”

He thought his wife mad again, or so his look said. “And take a loss, just because you are jealous?”

“I…am…not—!”

“I will pay it.”

This came from Ivarr. He was trying not to laugh, he really was. The rest of the crowd that had gathered with him wasn’t nearly as tactful. Smiles, chuckles, guffaws, backslapping. Thorolf was sitting down on the floor, he was laughing so hard.

Erika wasn’t amused. She might have gotten what she wanted, exactly what she wanted, but it had come one day too late, as far as she was concerned. Already proven was that her husband would never be faithful. He found the very subject laughable. But she didn’t.

She slipped away while he and Ivarr were haggling over Lida’s price. She caught sight of Lida before she mounted the stairs. The girl was avidly watching the proceedings, pleased to be the subject of so much contention. There was no alarm or even disappointment that she was being sold to another.

But Erika realized, with despair, that her own reaction would have been much different were she in Lida’s shoes. Erika would have been devastated if Selig were getting rid of her. Sweet Freya, had she been foolish enough to fall in love with her own husband, just as his sister had warned might happen?

Chapter 40

S
ELIG WAITED UNTIL
the sun had nearly set before he sought out his wife. He found her in the kitchen, overseeing the last-minute preparations of the evening meal. He had been there earlier himself, to fetch the makings for a private meal, which he already had stowed on his horse.

He had also had to explain to Turgeis what he was about so the giant wouldn’t follow. He hadn’t exactly got his wholehearted approval, but Turgeis did seem to feel that as long as Erika was with Selig, she was safe.

Though the incident had happened that morn, Selig still wore a fine coating of salt. He hadn’t washed it off for two reasons. He enjoyed the reminder of what his wife had done. And he wanted an excuse that he could blame on her to talk her into joining him for a swim. He would need the excuse. The one time he had seen her again today, she had given him a look meant to freeze him on the spot. She had not calmed down yet.

Nor did she look any more amenable now. But one other thing in his favor was that after
spending time in the kitchen, she appeared as hot as he was, though she could not feel as sticky. Yet the heat was going to aid his cause, too, or at least it should have. Of course, knowing his wife, he realized she could let a little thing like her temper get in the way of her own preference.

Mayhap he wouldn’t ask her after all, but just take her to the lake and throw her in. They could discuss if she would like to swim after that.

His teasing nature favored the latter course, and to accomplish it, he feigned a stern expression to throw Erika off guard, which would hopefully, also, keep her from arguing with him.

He motioned her outside, and as soon as she came through the door, he said, “Come with me,” and started off to where his horse waited.

She didn’t budge farther. “Where?”

He had to come back to get her, and he took her arm this time to start her forward. “We go for a short ride,” was all he said.

She still dragged her feet. “But the meal—”

“Can wait.”

He tossed her up onto the horse. She was scowling at him by now, so after he had settled in the saddle himself, he relented enough to offer, “You will not mind this ride, Erika. ’Tis something I thought to share with you, and you will find it pleasant if you will but—relax.”

She said nothing, and the ride to the small lake was indeed short. By the time they got
there, Selig thought better of throwing her in. He dismounted and helped her down. Dusk was full upon them, with just enough light left to see the wildflowers in bloom and the tranquility of the setting. He had chosen the evening to come here; that way, her modesty would be less disturbed if he actually managed to get her in the water with him.

“My sister loves this place and comes here often with Royce,” he said. “For that matter, my parents also swim here frequently when they are visiting.”

Erika couldn’t quite picture his parents swimming in this lake, but his telling her so somehow put her at ease. “What do we here?”

He grinned before he said, “I am going to wash off the fruits of your temper. Notice I am not going to make you do it for me, though by rights I should. You might enjoy a swim yourself, after such a warm day.”

He didn’t wait for her answer, but turned his back on her and dove into the water, clothes and all. She was surprised enough by that to put her suspicions aside for the moment. He came up laughing, and shaking water from his hair so that drops reached her even on the bank. He was like a playful child in the water, and when he wasn’t looking at her, she smiled at his antics.

The water
did
look inviting, deliriously so, but she would not, of course, swim with him. To do so would be to forgive and forget, and she wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
She wasn’t even going to thank him for selling his leman, because he hadn’t actually gotten rid of the woman. Lida would still be around, albeit Ivarr’s now. But who was to say Selig wouldn’t still make use of her with his friend’s blessing? And in that case, what he had done was no more than a meaningless gesture, and she had accomplished nothing by making a fool of herself over it—except to amuse her husband.