“Coarse clod!” she said again, and this time she didn’t bother to keep her voice low. With a snarl of disgust, she yanked the fur pelt up to his chest… something she should have done when she first entered the hut.
He just laughed.
She unwrapped her bundle and made up a plate of cold slices of roast duck and venison, hard cheese, an apple, a circle of manchet bread still with the hole in the center, and two honey cakes. “Are you hungry?” she asked.
He nodded and she pulled a chair over, next to the bed. She fed him morsel by morsel, alternating with sips of ale from a small jug. While she fed him, she talked, never stopping to see if he would carry on his end of the conversation. He never did.
“The storm is still going strong. I don’t know if Eirik and Tykir and Bolthor have been able to leave Winchester yet. I doubt it. The roads are said to be impassable and covered with a sheet of ice.
“Alinor is teaching me to weave. What pretty cloth she makes from her own specially dyed wools. And Eadyth is showing me how to extract honey from the combs to make different grades of honey. I made these honey cakes myself.
“Methinks I will try to raise bees and sheep at Evergreen when I get back. My mother’s family only worked the land, but this might be another way to make it prosper.
“Alinor and Tykir have the most beautiful little boys. Four of them! And all of them rascals. Like their father, I imagine.
“Sarah and Sigrud have been swooning over you. All they can talk about is your broad shoulders and devilish eyes. Surely even you would not go after a seventeen-year-old at your advanced age, would you? On the other hand, many people would not raise an eyebrow over a fourteen-year difference in ages, I suppose. Ah, I can see that you consider it none of my business.
“Do you still get those pains in your abdomen—the pain that mimicks your brother’s injury? Well, you don’t have to answer. I know you do.
“Sometimes I envy you, Toste.”
For the first time, she got a reaction from the silent brute. His eyes widened with interest, and he tilted his head to the side on the pillow.
“I know you suffer from your brother’s death, but I envy the love that you two shared whilst together. It was special and rare—something to be cherished. I have never experienced that kind of love—any kind really—and suspect I never will. I know, I know,” she said with a laugh; “you are thinking that I never will because I will be dead. Well, some things are worth dying for. You are willing to die for your brother’s honor. I am willing to die to regain my home.
“Bolthor told the most awful saga afore they left for Winchester. It was about Alinor having a tail and her teasing a Viking named Rurik. I thought Alinor would wring his neck, but the men all laughed uproariously.
“I wager that Bolthor would love to tell some outrageous saga about this event,” she said, indicating his bonds and nakedness. “Not that he will ever hear about it, but, Blessed Lord, it would probably have some such atrocious title as ‘How the Cock Got His Feathers Plucked,’ or ‘She Had Her Way With Him.’ Ha ha ha.
“Oh, well, if you are not going to talk to me, I might as well return to the keep.”
She was about to put his gag back on when he said, “Esme…”
“What?” she asked hopefully.
“I am going to kill you.”
It seemed like a good idea at the time …
The next morning, Esme was in the kitchen with Eadyth, Alinor and the twins, Sarah and Sigrud, making plans for a huge yuletide feast to be held at Ravenshire.
Eadyth and Alinor were in especially high spirits because the streak of bad weather had finally broken, and the sun shone warmly outside, melting the snow and ice. For a certainty, their husbands would return within the next few days.
Which brought Esme even more distress. How much longer could she hold Toste against his will without anyone finding out? And if he didn’t agree to her demands, what then?