Page 100 of The Outlaw Viking

Her head jerked up, but he’d already turned away from her. Over his shoulder, he instructed her, “Lie on the bed.”

With dread, Rain did as he instructed. He walked toward the pallet slowly, his eyes taking in every inch of her body from her toes to her long hair, which had come loose from its braid and lay over her shoulders. When he reached for the ropes, still tied to the bedposts, Rain knew what he was going to do.

“No, Selik, please don’t do this. I had good reasons for my actions. I only wanted to keep you safe.”

He ignored her pleas and spread-eagled her on the bed, tying her securely to the four corners. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he regarded her with contempt, asking with mock consideration, “Would you like to use the bed pan?”

Rain’s face flamed and she blinked back the hurtful tears that smarted her eyes. “This is degrading.”

“Yea, ’tis,” he agreed coldly. “On that, at least, we agree.”

He started to walk away from her then, and Rain called after him, realizing that he intended to leave her alone, “Selik, I’m cold.” The wind had risen and thunder clapped in the distance, portending a coming storm.

“You won’t be for long,” he informed her sardonically, but then threw a cloak over her, fur side against her skin. With care, he made sure that it covered her from toes to shoulders. “Rest, angel. You will need it.”

Selik stayed away so long that Rain eventually dozed. When she awakened, feeling chilly, the storm was raging loudly outside, rain pelting against the weathered timbers of the barn. Although it was only late afternoon, the interior of the loft was dark and gloomy. Or it would have been except for one thing—dozens of candles burned brightly surrounding her bed.

And she lay naked, her blanket thrown aside.

Her eyes darted wildly, seeking Selik. He sat on a stool near the edge of the circle of candles, his long legs outstretched casually, crossed at the ankles, and his arms folded across his chest. He watched her like a vulture, but the flickering shadows hid his facial expressions.

“Tell me,” he said in a flat voice when he realized that she was awake, “what prompted you to betray my trust?”

Rain flinched at the pain of his condemnation but regarded him honestly. “I never betrayed you, Selik. I was trying to protect you.” She went on to explain all that Gyda and Ella had told her and why she felt compelled to take such drastic actions. “Will you go after Steven now? Will you leave for the Gravely lands in Wessex?”

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Nay. Whilst you slept, I got word to my men in Jorvik—those who are still loyal to me. Steven was seen boarding a ship in London.”

She exhaled with relief.

“Do not think you have stopped me with your traitorous acts. You only delayed me. I will go after Steven yet.”

“Selik, please try to understand. I love you. I was afraid—”

“Nay,” he interrupted, “love does not unman the lover. Dost thou really consider me such a poor warrior that I cannot defend myself against such a devilish weakling as Steven of Gravely?”

“That’s not the point. Gyda told me—”

“Desist with thy blame throwing. You, and you alone, made a decision to drug and restrain me. You decided to play the man and determine my fate. How dare you? How dare you?”

“I’m sorry,” she said weakly.

“And do not think to soften me with tears. I assure you, I will not be moved.”

But Rain cried anyway, the tears pooling and overflowing in silent streams down her face, burning when they touched the welts and her bruised nose. She knew she must look a mess. One side of her face was probably red, and her nose swollen. Oh, Lord, that was the least of her problems.

Selik moved quietly toward the bed and sat down. He leaned to the floor and picked up a small pottery container. Dipping his fingers inside, he began to massage the foul-smelling ointment into the bruises on her arms. Almost instantly, Rain felt the pain numbing and then disappearing.

“What is that?”

“Horse liniment.”

Rain choked as she inhaled the ungodly odor, rather like that of limburger cheese.

“’Tis a special concoction of Ubbi’s,” he said with a grim smile, recognizing her discomfort and, no doubt, taking pleasure in it. “The odor disappears almost instantly.”

He used a wet linen cloth to wipe the blood and tears from her face, then applied the same liniment to the welts on her cheek. She thought she might pass out from the obnoxious stench so close to her nostrils.

“Do you know the name of the Saxon soldier who did this to you?” he asked in a tight voice.