Her eyes flashed at him and then settled on his chalice as if she wanted to knock it from his hand. Deciding not to chance losing it, he took another long swallow of the rich wine. ‘You did not uphold your end of our agreement,’ she said.
He shrugged, knowing what she meant, but unable to deny himself the pleasure of her anger. ‘How so?’
She nearly screamed her outrage, but glanced back at the closed double doors of the hall and tempered her words. ‘We agreed that you would pretend to placate him.’
‘Ah, but then you are the one who told him we are not lovers.’
‘Only in the physical sense. We could still pretend to have a fondness. Why could you have not said that you were sent here to see if I was ready for marriage and left it at that? Cedric nearly fed you the words you were meant to say.’
Anger rose within him. ‘Because I am here to find my father’s murderer. Do not forget that. I kept up our deal while still doing my part to find the men responsible.’
‘You upset him.’ Her voice was raised and she pointed towards the hall as she said that.
Rurik was dimly aware of the warriors who had stood on either side of the door closing in on them, faintly confused and ready to intervene if they were needed to subdue him. However, the bulk of his attention was focused on the woman before him and the way her cheeks went rosy in her anger and her eyes flashed with heat. For a moment he wondered what it might be like to have all of that intensity beneath him, her eyes alight with a different kind of heat.
He blinked to break the spell she had cast and took a step back. ‘You do not even begin to understand how upset he has made me—’
Surprising him, she closed the distance between them to bring her face close to him. She was tall, but still had to look up to meet his gaze at so close a distance. ‘Do I not, Norseman? You might have lost your father, but I lost my husband...along with any hope I have of a child.’
Pain had replaced the heat of her anger, leaving her eyes shining up at him. A tender swell in his chest made him forget his own fury for a moment. ‘I did not mean it in that way, Annis.’
She blinked—whether it was at his conciliatory tone or the fact that he had used her name, he did not know. Shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, she stepped away from him, visibly relaxing her stance as she took in a breath. Her hands unclasped and she turned away from him. ‘Follow me,’ she said, not even bothering to look back to make certain that he had obeyed.
Then again, she did not have to make certain. The two warriors who had apparently been appointed his guard stepped closer, their eyes making it clear they would carry him if he did not comply. Cursing under his breath, he took the last swallow of wine before tossing the empty chalice away where it bounced off the stones and rolled towards the wall. One of the men gave his shoulder a rough push and Rurik began to follow her.
His gaze took in the house as he walked. Torches lit the way, lighting up the tapestries he passed and reflecting off the stone floor, turning it a deep orange. It felt old, but in a way that conveyed years of knowledge and living rather than decay. It should have felt forbidding and menacing—it was his prison, after all—but it did not. Strangely, it felt like a home, cosy and a refuge from the world. Cold winter wind howled outside, but, aside from an occasional flicker of the light, it did not touch them here.
The creak of a door drew his gaze to Annis as she disappeared through a doorway. This chamber was off the atrium and not the garden like her own chamber and Wilfrid’s had been.
‘Here’ came the voice of a guard at his back as they approached the open door.
Wary of what might be inside, Rurik paused at the threshold, taking in what appeared to be a bedchamber almost the same size as Wilfrid’s, but not nearly as well appointed. A large bed sat in the centre of the room with a few chests and tables scattered about. Otherwise the chamber was bare, making it appear as if it were not currently occupied. One of the guards pushed him and he stumbled into the room. He turned, drawing his fist back to drive it into the man’s smirking face, but he moved backwards too quickly.
Annis gave the man a harsh glare before turning her attention to Rurik. ‘Your new home. For now.’ She stood near the head of the bed, her features closed as if she had overcome her anger.
‘It is much better than my cage, I will admit,’ he said. He could not help but eye the bed with longing as he approached. Last night had been long and it seemed ages since he had slept in a good bed: the straw pallet in the cage, the boat and, before that, his time in Killcobar with Alarr looking for King Feann. They had slept on the ground and in dirty hovels much of the time.
His body longed for rest, but he could not forget the important task before him. He had to get closer to Annis somehow, to get her to confide in him, at least until he could make more progress with her father-in-law. ‘Will you share it with me?’
Her glaring disapproval answered him even before she said, ‘Never.’
He could not help the grin that spread across his face. Something about her simply begged him to unravel her. ‘I
