‘I would like you to dine with us. Pretend to be my...who you said you were. We must be very careful about upsetting him. If he is stirred to anger, it could bring on another attack. Strong emotion has brought them on before. Therefore, you must agree not to mention your family. We will say you are an emissary from Jarl Eirik—’
‘You would have me pretend to be a Dane?’
She frowned at the interruption. ‘A Dane sent by Jarl Eirik to check on things here. We have successfully avoided the Jarl’s meddling for several years. Wilfrid will believe that we were finally forced to accept a visitor.’
‘You would have me pretend to be someone else to pacify the man who was involved in plotting to kill my father?’
She blinked and took a step back. ‘You are right. It’s unconscionable. I do not know what I was thinking.’ She turned and would have hurried out, but he realised at that moment that this very well might be his only chance to negotiate with her.
‘Wait.’
She had the decency to look sheepish when she turned to him, her gaze trying to dip down, but she visibly forced herself to meet his eyes.
‘You said a proposition. What do you plan to give me in return?’
Meeting his gaze, she said, ‘You can move upstairs into a chamber there. It will be more comfortable than your straw.’
‘You expect me to pretend to be someone else for only a bed?’
‘After tonight, we can discuss a way for you to earn your freedom. I would not be opposed to setting you free if you could somehow persuade us that you intend to leave and not harm us.’
He thought of what leaving would mean and even glanced towards the steps that would lead him out of here. He could go, but what then? There was nowhere for him to go. Home to Maerr was out of the question. The kingdom that should rightfully belong to Brandt had been given to another. He could go back to Éireann.
But, no. Even as the idea crossed his mind, he pushed it away. His mother had been Irish, but it was not his home. Rurik was Norse, but he did not belong there any more than he belonged in Maerr. Bastards rarely had true homes, he was learning.
All he had was his need for justice. He needed to prove his family innocent in plotting against his father—he and his brothers had been declared outlaws in the aftermath as baseless rumours had circulated that they might have wanted Sigurd dead for their own gain. Rurik needed to know that those who had plotted against his family had been brought to justice. He could not leave without knowing the names of the assassins.
‘I need to know the names of the men who were with Wilfrid.’
She paused. ‘I have already told you that I cannot give you that.’
Gripping the bars, he stood as close to her as he was able. ‘I have to find justice for my family, for those innocent people who had no say in what Sigurd did, but paid for his perceived crimes anyway. Please...’ It was the first time he had pleaded with her. She drew in a shaking breath and seemed to drop the regal demeanour she adopted so easily. Perhaps it had never been real at all.
Nodding, she said, ‘If you agree, then we can discuss it further.’
It was all that he would get from her, but it would have to be enough. At least he would be a step closer and away from this cage. The truth was he was looking forward to a hearty meal. Thanks to his exertions last night, he had not been given food yet today. He would agree, but first he wanted to make certain that his knife was returned to him.
‘I will have your promise that my weapons will be returned to me.’
‘When you leave, perhaps.’
‘The bone-handled knife has meaning to me.’ He despised giving her that information, because it was always possible that it could be used against him, but he found himself trusting her a little more every time they met. He needed to know that it would be kept safe. ‘I will have your promise that it will be safe until such time that it is returned to me.’
She gave a brisk nod and the tightness in his shoulders eased. ‘It is in the armoury. No harm will come to it.’
‘Do you not think he will question why the Jarl’s emissary is beaten?’ He indicated his nose. Most of the other bruises were hidden by clothing.
‘We will say you were attacked on the road.’
He nodded, accepting the opportunity she was giving him. ‘Then I will need a bath first.’
Chapter Eight
An hour later, Annis sat at the table with Cedric across from her and Wilfrid to her left at the head. Her stomach churned as she waited for Rurik to make an appearance. After leading him up the stairs from below, she had seen that he was given access to the bathing chamber. Two men had been assigned to guard him, but she was not at all certain that two would be enough. Others were stationed in the house, but after seeing him in the fight in her chamber that morning, she had gained a newfound respect for Norse warriors. He had fought with an unbridled passion that had sparked as much admiration within her as it had fear.
Had she let a wild animal loose in her home? Or had she done the only thing that was morally acceptable in the face of her own transgressions: given him a chance for freedom? She did not know. Her only comfort was the fact that he had not killed Wilfrid last night when he had the man defenceless. Only time would tell, however, if his mercy would continue.
Cedric raised a silent brow at her from across the table. They had argued before she had gone below, he
