Hearts Aflame

by Johanna Lindsey

  She wished it were raining tonight, to hinder visibility and help conceal the sound of her movements. But there were only a few clouds above, and these were not even near the overly bright moon. This would not deter her, though. Everyone was indoors, sleeping. There was no one to see her.

  From the back of the stable, she could hear the soft nicker of one of the horses, reminding her that horses would be needed. But none of these. The large wooden gate was closed and locked at night, and no doubt a guard set to watch. Even if there was no guard, taking any of the stabled horses would make too much noise. This was no problem, though, for she knew that most of Royce's horses had been taken to pasture. She would just have to find the pasture.

  The problem she did face was coming around the prisoners hut and seeing a guard sitting in front of the only door. She ducked back behind the side of the building, her heart racing. Had he heard her footsteps? Had he seen her? But she heard no movement from him, and after a short time more she found the courage to peek around the corner.

  The man was still sitting there, his back against the door, his head leaning back, too, and bent to the side. She let out the breath she had been holding, realizing he was asleep. This was something she had not counted on, for the door was locked, a guard not needed. But this was minor in comparison to the problem she had known she would face: getting that locked door open. Then again, this would be a blessing if the guard held the key to the heavy lock.

  Kristen moved back behind the building to look for a stone large enough to render the fellow unconscious. She could have swiped his dagger while he slept and killed him instead, but couldn't bring herself to do that. Unfortunately, there were no stones about the yard that were big enough, and she finally had to work her way over to where the rock wall was being built. There, it took a while to find a stone that wasn't too big. She did find one eventually, and she did make her way back to the guard without incident. Her pulse accelerated as she approached him. If he made a sound when she struck, she would be done for. If she struck too hard. God help her, she didn't want to really hurt him, just put him into a deeper sleep.

  The stone hit near his temple and the man sagged to the side. He breathed. That was enough to satisfy Kris-ten's conscience for now, and she made fast work of searching his body for the key. Her luck did not extend that far. She would have to waste more time trying to pry the lock loose. But at least this unexpected guard provided the dagger to work with. She went quickly to the task, calling in an urgent voice that did not carry far, "Ohthere. Thor—" A large hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her, while another gripped the wrist that held the dagger. "Drop it. Do it now." She did, feeling a strange mixture of dread and joy as she recognized that voice. He let go of her wrist as soon as the dagger clattered to the ground, his hand then going round her waist. It was not a tight hold he had on her, but she knew it could be if she struggled. And then she felt nothing but regret, hearing Thorolf on the other side of the still-locked door. He had heard her soft call. He thought she was there to help them escape. "Kristen? Kristen, answer. Tell me I was not dreaming." "What does he say?" Royce whispered by her ear. "He knows 'tis me." "Then tell him what has happened." She swallowed hard. What had happened? How? She had got this far. No cry of alarm was raised. Yet she was stopped, and by the one man here whom she would not turn around and fight in earnest. If it were anyone else... "Thorolf, I am sorry. I nearly succeeded, but the Saxon lord has found me out. He is here." There was a long silence from behind the door, and then: "You should not have come for us, Kristen. You should have flown while you were able." "That matters not now." "What will he do to you?" How could she answer that? She said to Royce, "He wants to know what you will do to me." "What would have happened if you had succeeded in opening that door?" His voice was so frightfully calm. God's teeth! Why wasn't he shouting at her? He had to be furious. She hadn't looked at him yet to see for herself, but he must be. But if he could hide his fury, then she could hide her fear.

  With equal calm, she said, "If I had opened the door, we would have run for yonder fence and been gone from here." "After the slaughter?" "You jest, milord. They are sixteen men. You have a like number of warlords in your hall at the moment, and your retainers, and their retainers as well. You have a well-trained army. Vikings are bold, milord, but not stupid." "Then tell him naught will be done to you, because all you did was render punishment of a guard who was deserving of it for sleeping at his duty." She could not believe he said that. More to the point, she could not believe he meant it. He would do something. He had to. She was a slave who had tried to escape and had tried to help others escape as well. But she did not want Thorolf to know that, any more than Royce did.

  She explained quickly, but Thorolf was as doubtful as she. "He does not believe you, milord." "Then tell him you will bring their food to them on the morrow, and at that time you can report to him exactly what I have done to you." A shiver passed down her spine. She repeated his words to Thorolf, and that seemed to satisfy him, which was well, for Royce was done with talking. He led her away, his arm still firm about her waist. Her fear was increasing. How ominous that had sounded: exactly what I have done to you. She was about to reconsider her option of fighting him when he stopped.

  They were before the stable. He brought her around until she stood in front of him, facing him. Both arms were about her waist now, but he did not press her close. His head tilted back, his gaze taking in the clear, bright sky, the glory of the near-full moon. She heard him sigh. "I offered the other night to take you to the lake where you can bathe," he said quietly. "Would you like to go there now?" "So you can drown me?" He glanced back down at her, the barest trace of a smile forming on his lips. "You did not believe what I said back there?" "I tried to escape. You stopped me, but I still tried. What does your law demand of that?" "You are an enslaved prisoner, not a Briton. The laws have more leeway concerning prisoners. But the law is not involved here, for no one knows what you did but I." "And the guard." "The man will think he dreamed that bump on his head. Mayhap he will not sleep again on duty." Her eyes widened. "You are sincere. You really will do naught to me?" "The wolf will chew off his paw to be released from the trap. He escapes, but at great cost. Had you escaped with the others, make no mistake, I would have found you. Your friends would have fought and there would have been bloodshed. That would be punishment enough for you. But you did not succeed. And as I can understand the wolf, I can understand also the will that drives you. You want your freedom. I cannot punish you for that. But I cannot let you go, either." "You could," she said stonily. "The others build your wall. What they do is necessary to Wyndhurst. But what I do in the hall is of little import. You have no reason to keep me here." "You are necessary to me, Kristen!" The force of those words silenced her. He meant it, and it thrilled her to know it. But she was a fool no more. She would not take those words to heart. He was simply obsessed with her, for he had never known anyone like her. But in time the obsession would wear thin and he would need her no more—probably when he had his lady to wife. Mayhap then she could convince him to let her go.

  In the meantime, God help her, she would have to go on suffering and wanting and praying she could retain a measure of her pride. It would not be easy. Royce pulled her closer and felt her stiffen. "You still doubt me?" "Nay, but for you to take me to the lake, after what I did... 'tis like you reward me for defying you. You confuse me, Saxon." He laughed, and did draw her closer. "I am glad to hear it. I have been alone in confusion so long, 'tis a pleasure to have company now. Nay, do not be piqued with me," he said as she tried to pull back. "I will appease your confusion, which is more than you do for me." "Well?" she prompted when she saw his humor leave, his expression turning serious again. "I simply choose to forget what you did. I came down to the hall to take you to the lake. When I found you gone—" He would not tell her what he had felt. He never wanted to feel that way again. He gathered her tight against him, pressing his cheek against hers before he continued. "No harm w
as done, Kristen. I can overlook the intention and hope that you now see 'tis useless for you to try to leave here. I will always second-guess you." She gasped. "You knew! That is why there was a guard." "And a wrong choice of guards," he grunted. "But I did not know. I just do not take chances where you are concerned." Intuition told her he wouldn't, either, that he would be this cautious of her as long as he still wanted her. She really did have no hope of escaping this place, not until he found his pleasure elsewhere. "When do you marry, milord?" She knew the question surprised him. She felt him tense. He would not be able to reason what this had to do with what they were discussing. "What are you thinking, wench?" "Does it not concern me?" "Nay, it does not." "But I am curious, milord." "I think you are more cunning than curious. Do you try to anger me?" Now Kristen was surprised. "Why would you think so? 'Twas a very simple question, milord, that does in fact concern me. When your lady wife lives here, there will be changes. She will share your chamber, not I." If she thought to appease him, she failed. "And you look forward to that!" he stormed. "Well, I must disappoint you, for 'twill not be soon. The time for the wedding has yet to be discussed." Without thinking, Kristen replied from the heart, "In truth, that does not disappoint me." Those few words did manage to appease Royce, completely. Kristen wished she could take them back when she heard him chuckle. She had not meant to let him know she still desired him. Now she was annoyed, by her loose tongue, and how it had returned him to good humor.

  And she blundered further by letting him hear her annoyance when she snapped, "Your amusement is misplaced. Your betrothed can have—" "Shush. Say no more of her," he warned. Then, softly: "I still do not wish to return to my chamber, where Averill makes noises in his sleep like a lion. Do you come with me to the lake?" Oh, unfair, to use that against her now! But she was not so angry that she would spite herself. She made her tone conciliatory. "Aye, I would like to come with you." His own voice deepened to a husky pitch. "And will you let me make love to you there?" Kristen gasped. "You said naught of conditions!" Royce chuckled. "Then I will just have to take my chances."

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Royce and Kristen did make love that night. They also slept the night through on the grassy banks of the lake. At least, Kristen did.

  In her enjoyment of the cool water, she was so relaxed and at peace for a while, she even forgot for a time that Royce watched her from the bank. He did not swim himself. He confessed to not knowing how. But Kristen frolicked to her heart's content. It was like being free again, like being at home, except the water was not quite as cold. And at home, she would not have a lover waiting for her on the shore.

  When she did finally emerge from the water, Royce did not even give her time to dry off. He gathered her immediately into his arms and proceeded to kiss the water from her lips, her cheeks, her breasts. She had no will to deny him there in the moonlight. She could not even summon a token resistance. She wanted him, wanted too to give him back some of the pleasure he had given her in bringing her to the lake.

  He could not know how much it had meant to her. But perhaps he knew now, for she had loved him thoroughly, releasing her passion until it surpassed even his own. He would not soon forget this interlude at the lake.

  But he did not fall blissfully to sleep afterward as she did. She saw now, as she woke with the first stirrings of the birds in the trees that announced the dawn, that Royce was wide awake. She also saw how tired he looked.

  He still held her close. She had slept wrapped against him for warmth, for neither of them had dressed and the night air was cool there by the lake. They were covered only by her thin gown. Kristen sat up, stretching widely, then glanced behind her and shook her head at Royce, who was watching her. "You should have slept, milord." "With my horse at your convenience?" "Unfair. You will not blame me for your lack of sleep. You could have taken me back and set your men to watch me." "Ah, but you object most strenuously to having guards watch you, as I recall." "And what have you been all this night?" she retorted indignantly. He sat up, grinning at her. "But I got to hold you, wench. 'Twas a duty I did not mind." "You are impossible." She laughed, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. "But I am grateful. 'Twas much more comfortable here, on the soft grass, than on the hard floor in your hall." "And I make a nice pillow?" "That too." His finger traced along her collarbone, then playfully detoured down the valley of her breasts. "I will have you back in my bed this eventide." "And what has made you think I want to be there?" she said primly. "You do." She shook her head. "We have had a truce here, but when we return—" "Shush." He leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against her neck. And then abruptly, making her squeal in surprise, Royce had her stretched out under him. "Now admit it. You like my bed." He was incorrigible this morn. And she was in no mood to be serious either. Wicked laughter danced in her eyes. "I like your bed fine, Saxon. Tis a most comfortable bed." Her tone left little doubt that she was talking only about the bed. "I will not let you up."—he began nibbling at her lips—"until you admit"—his tongue teased her now—"that you want me." "Then, milord..." Her arms curled around his neck, her fingers sliding up into the soft waves of his hair. "We will be here for a very long time." It was late morning when they returned to the hall. They did not spend the whole morning at the lake, though Kristen did swim once more before finally dressing. But when Royce set her up on his horse, where she rode in front of him, it was not toward the hall that he headed. He took her through forests, through grain fields, through meadows of wildflowers, and through pastures. He showed her his land, his people, the villages. She saw that those who worked at the manor were only a handful in actuality. There were so many more people who worked the land, who tended the herds of cattle and horses, who hunted in the forests. And she sensed Royce's pride in what he was showing her. The morning became an enchanted time. The warm feeling of contentment with which Kristen had awoken continued, as did Royce's good humor. Most men became cranky when they were overtired. Royce was teasing and playful, almost ridiculously so. He took exception to nothing she did or said. He would drop the reins to make her grab for them, while he grabbed for her breasts. His hands would constantly stray to her legs, for she sat astride the horse, her chainse hiked up to her thighs. He would not leave her bare skin alone, no matter how many times she slapped away his hands. He would tickle her until she begged mercy, then nuzzle and kiss her neck. He laughed at her and with her. He simply would not leave her alone.

  And Kristen enjoyed all of it. For a while she felt free. And she felt loved, even if his feelings did not run that deep. So it was natural that she should regret returning to the hall and reality. She would go to her work in the hall. He would no doubt go straight to bed, since Alden had taken the King and his party hunting in Royce's absence. They had even heard them in the forest, though Royce did not ride toward them. And the lack of horses in the stable said they had not returned.

  He lifted her down from the horse, but his hands did not leave her waist immediately. His expression was subdued now. Perhaps he too was regretting the end of their idyll. She would like to think so. "Your cheeks are blooming with color." Kristen smiled slightly, offering, "The fresh air." "Mayhap, but that has naught to do with the sparkle in your eyes. I would like to hear that you enjoyed yourself." "Would you?" His horse had been taken away, there were at least three other men near, and he was still holding her. "Will you keep me here until I admit it?" He grinned at the reminder, and then he laughed, lifting her up for a hard kiss before setting her down with a whack to her backside. "Vixen. I would not be so boorish as to keep you in the stable. But later..." "Threats!" she cried playfully. "I suppose I will have to admit it, then. I did in fact enjoy myself." "Then as long as you are in an admitting mood..." "Nay, Saxon, I make only one confession a day." He swallowed a laugh, trying to look disappointed. "You have no mercy, wench," he said as he led her out of the stable into the yard. "I suppose your persistence should be commended." She sighed. He did laugh this time. "I retreat, for now." His ha
nd rested on her back as he walked her to the hall. And then he added hesitantly, "It cannot be often, but when I can, do you come with me to the lake again?" Kristen looked sideways at him. This she had not expected at all. He was giving her something to look forward to, whether he knew it or not. And that was something she desperately needed at this time. "I would like that, milord. But can I have a horse to myself next time?" "Nay." Her brow rose. "I know how to ride." "So Thorolf told me." "Then you say nay because you do not trust me." "Of course I do not trust you." He grinned at the face she made to that. "But more than that, I liked having you on my lap where I could—" "Royce!" "Do you blush, wench? God's breath, you do!" "Cease, Saxon, or I will—" He was not to hear what she would do. He followed her gaze to see what had subdued her, and saw Corliss standing in the doorway to the hall, one of her sisters beside her. They were not there to greet him, surely, for neither lady looked in the least bit welcoming. "You must have disremembered she was here, milord," Kristen whispered aside to him. He had certainly tried to, but he did not say that aloud. One glance at Kristen told him she did not pity him this confrontation. Her eyes brimmed with secret humor. Merciless wench, she wanted to see him taken to task for his neglect of his betrothed. "Milady," Royce said stiffly in greeting. "Milord," Corliss replied just as stiffly. She did not move aside to let Kristen go on into the hall. In fact, she looked directly at Kristen as she inquired, "Who is this freakish giant?"

  Royce's chin went hard. The muscles in his neck moved alarmingly. Kristen would have been amazed had she seen this, though she would have assumed his anger stemmed from the jealous bite of the lady's attitude. But Kristen wasn't looking at Royce just now. She was looking down at the lady, and she did have to look down, for the top of Corliss's head came no higher than her chin.