Lord of Raven's Peak - Catherine Coulter [73]
“I am very tired,” she said finally. “Please, I must stop now.”
There were gold coins amongst the silver, most pressed into her hand, and a beautiful pounded brooch, given to her by one of Thoragasson’s two sons. “It belonged to my mother,” he told her.
She tried to give it back, but he merely pressed it into her hand and closed her fingers over it. “I wish you to have it, Laren.” She watched him walk away from her. She didn’t even remember his name. He wasn’t more than fifteen, but he would be as big as all the damned Vikings, and fair-haired, his eyes blue as the summer skies.
As for Letta Thoragasson, she stopped in front of Laren and smiled down at her. It wasn’t a nice smile, it was filled with malice. “Listen to me,” she said finally. She reached out and grabbed Laren’s wrist and dragged her closer. “Don’t ever think you will beat me, for you won’t. I don’t mind that Merrik uses you. You are a slave, a whore, and that is what you are good for. He is a man with a man’s needs, and I admire him because he doesn’t seek to dishonor me by coming to my bed before we are wed. You are nothing more than a vessel for his lust. Take him into you now, for soon, once we are wed, he will sell you and I will not have to see your ugly face again.” She paused, then smiled more widely. “Oh aye, he will sell you for that is what I will demand for my wedding gift. Who knows? Perhaps my father will buy you and you will spend your miserable life telling him stories.”
She threw Laren’s wrist away from her. Laren stared after her.
“She is right, you know.”
It was Erik and he’d heard Letta’s words. “You are nothing more than Merrik’s whore and it will stop when he weds that little fool. Merrik believes a man should cleave to one woman once that woman is his wife. He dreams of finding a woman who is like our mother was to our father. It won’t happen with that one. He will bed Letta for a short time, even hold faith with her for a while, then he will realize that she gives him too little, and he will have other women, just as I have had to do. Sarla is different from Letta, but in many ways she is the same. No, you can believe Letta in this and you can believe me. Merrik will sell you once he weds. But it won’t matter to you, Laren, for you will be gone.
“If you are nice to me, Laren, I won’t let Merrik sell you to old Thoragasson. I’ll buy you and keep you here with me. Merrik will wed her and he will go back to the Bergson Valley to live.”
“Laren!”
Merrik was striding toward her. He nodded to his brother, then said, “Your story lacked force and passion tonight. Perhaps you are saving that passion for me. I trust so, else I will be displeased with you. Come along now, I wish to have you.”
Laren heard a laugh. She turned slightly and saw that Letta was sniggering behind her hand. She saw Merrik’s large hand extended toward her. Slowly, she placed her hand into his and followed him out of the outer chamber.
He released her hand the moment they were within the sleeping chamber. He didn’t look at her at all, just began to strip off his clothes. He said as he pulled his tunic over his head, his voice muffled, “What are you, Laren, a merchant’s daughter? An innkeeper’s niece? I know you weren’t a slave before two years ago. You’re too proud, and you were a virgin, something you wouldn’t have been beyond your childhood otherwise.”
She said nothing.
When he was naked, he turned to see her sitting on the side of the box bed, fully clothed, her hands in her lap. She was staring at him, at his flat belly, furred with soft blond hair, then downward. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly parted.
“Stop looking at me,” he said, utterly infuriated with her for testing him so. “Have you