‘If I am a bastard?’
Her cheeks went rosy, a pleasing look on her, and she nodded.
‘My brother and I were acknowledged by our father. We have the same advantages as our brothers born to Sigurd’s wife.’
She frowned. ‘You Norse are a strange lot.’
‘Why? Because we believe that children have value, no matter whether their parents were wed or not?’
She sucked in a harsh breath. He had not meant her child, but somehow the words had struck that way. ‘We value our children,’ she said.
‘I did not mean you. I meant that your people tend to disregard the babes born out of wedlock. Do you not send them to monasteries or send them out to be fostered by strangers? Are they not barred from their rightful inheritance?’ There was truth to his words—she could not deny that.
‘But surely, not all slaves are as fortunate as your mother. Is it not still up to the man to acknowledge them?’ she asked.
And he could not deny the truth in that. ‘That is true.’
‘Women, doomed to have no choice in many cultures.’
For some reason, he longed to push the strand of hair back that had fallen down over her cheek and was glad for once that the restraints bound him. ‘You seem to have managed your choices quite well.’
She smiled, but it held a bit of sadness. ‘I am lucky to have found Wilfrid. He cares nothing for what people think and allowed me freedoms denied to most.’
‘Wilfrid, is it? What of your own father?’ Rurik was genuinely curious about her now.
She frowned and he knew there was something there. He was stunned at his own sense of betrayal when she shifted positions, grabbing a cushion and settling herself as if for sleep with her head at the foot of the bed.
‘That is not fair. I tell you of my life, while you hold back.’
‘You are a prisoner,’ she said easily, ploughing a fist into the side of what appeared to be a very hard cushion. ‘Life is not fair for prisoners.’
He laughed a mirthless laugh at how she had bested him. The woman was a fierce adversary, and, despite himself, he found he admired her even more. ‘Tell me, please.’ He could probably count on one hand the times he had begged in his life and here he was, begging again with her.
She had rolled on to her back and became very still at his plea. Finally, without looking at him, she asked, ‘Why do you wish to know of my family?’
‘Because you fascinate me,’ he answered honestly. ‘I have never met any woman like you.’
One long heartbeat later, she rolled to her side to meet his gaze. He was struck anew by how heady it felt to hold her undivided attention. ‘I have met no man quite like you either, Norseman.’
His breath caught in his throat as he sensed more to her words. There was the flicker of interest in her eyes and, if he was not mistaken, her gaze had dipped down to his chest, perhaps lower, as she spoke. He was forced to grind his molars together to stop the surge of heat that wanted to warm his blood.
‘Then you will tell me?’ he asked to cover his response and draw her gaze back to his.
Chapter Eleven
Annis knew what the Norseman was hoping to accomplish. If he could get her to see him as a person, a man who was part of a family with his own needs and goals, then she would naturally feel less inclined to see him meet his end. It was a clever move, though not particularly inventive. The problem was that she already saw him in such a manner. Her guilt had forced her to ever since he had first shown himself on the shores of Glannoventa. Perhaps it was that she was not particularly good at holding people prisoner, or perhaps it was that her prisoner was him—a man she was coming to know as endlessly fascinating. Either way, she was faltering in her bid to keep herself from feeling anything where he was concerned.
‘What is it that you want to know, precisely?’ A need she did not understand made her talk to him. All the while she knew that this path led to danger, but she could not stop herself.
‘You seem to have been with Wilfrid and his family a long time. Why did your parents send you away?’
It was an easy enough question to answer without allowing him to get too close to her. Rolling on to her back, she stared at the ceiling which was quite dark in the dim light. ‘I grew up in the east with my family. My father’s sister, Merewyn, lived with us. Because he was quite a bit older than she, my family took her in when their mother died. We were very close when I was quite young.’ In many ways, Merewyn had been a mother to her when her own mother had been busy with the other children and running the household. ‘One morning, a group of Danes visited our shores. It was a raiding party. They burned and looted, taking anything of value they could find. One of them took a liking to Merewyn, so he took her, too.’
‘Ah!’ He said it with such satisfaction and confidence that Annis was compelled to raise up on her elbows to look at him. ‘Now I understand why you despise me so much.’
‘I do not—’ She broke off abruptly. It would not do to allow him to understand her true feelings, that she was coming to admire him and hoped for a way out of this mess they were in without his bloodshed.
‘You do not...?’ He asked the question, but his eyes told her that he knew what she had meant to say. Everything had changed between them in the space of the past
