This language would come easily. It was much like his Englisc, only more simply constructed. The words that were different he would learn. Some of them seemed related to Latin, which made those easier, too. He had an excellent memory, almost as good as a scald’s. And he had learned much harder tongues under much less comfortable circumstances. The prison in Kiev flashed through his mind. Learning the language of the wretch in the chains next to him was the only thing that had kept him sane.
He had suggested that they try to speak only English so he would learn faster. She agreed, with the proviso that she could revert to Latin for words that were difficult to explain. Just now only half his attention was engaged in learning the action words she was teaching him. The other half studied the delicate tint washing the fine, pale skin of her cheeks and the long, dark lashes that hid her green eyes as she wrote the word “sail” on the parchment. The smattering of freckles that dusted her nose made her look vulnerable.
After last night, there were things he wanted to know about her. The intimacy of learning her language just might afford him an excuse to find out.
“I want a new word,” he said. “Widewe. You understand this word?”
“Widow? Yes.”
“Are you widow, Lucy?”
She looked surprised. “No. Why do you ask?”
Any woman in his time would have known exactly why he asked. He was glad she didn’t. But he didn’t like her answer anyway. If she was not widow but had no man, she would be virgin. A virgin was off-limits. But how could she be a virgin when she consorted with this Brad? Galen didn’t like to think she might have given her maidenhead to this Brad without the protection of marriage. Galen chewed his lip. Was she promised but not yet married? Not as good but some protection. He didn’t like that, either. Again, she would be off-limits to him. Why get bad news? Still he had to know if she had a protector. Even in this world that must be important. Would she understand the word for promise? “This Brad weddast you?”
Her cheeks went red. She looked away. “No.”
This was bad. Brad had not promised her, yet her blush said clearly that she had bedded him. In spite of her clothing, Galen had grown certain she was not a prostitute. But she would never call this Brad her friend if he had raped her. That meant she had given herself to him in spite of the fact that she was not betrothed. Galen’s gut churned. There was only one reason for that. Why was this so important to him?
“What is the word for lufian?”
“Lufian?” Her delicate brows creased. “I don’t know.”
He pressed ahead. “You lufast Brad?”
She got that one. She flushed to the roots of her hair. “No. I told you. He is a friend.”
Galen frowned. “Is he very old?” Maybe this Brad was like Jake, more a father or an uncle.
“No. He is about my age.”
“He has your years?” This was bad. “No man of your years is friend. He lusts for you, Lucy. Do you lust for him?” The thought made Galen’s gut churn.
“No!”
“Do you allow him—?”
She didn’t let him finish. “No! And that is not for you to know anyway.”
“When he wants to imprison me, it is for me to know.” He had to admit to himself that was not why he asked. ”What is he for you?”
She was silent for a moment, thinking. Then she took a breath as if for courage. “It is hard to explain. To make you understand,” she corrected herself when he didn’t get the gist of it at first, “I will speak Latin.”
She wanted to change to a language they didn’t share to push him away. “No. English. Speak more slow.”
She looked down. “My father liked Brad. Much.”
Was she using past tense? “Your father is dead?” Galen made his voice gentle.
She nodded and her eyes filled. She managed a small smile. “Nine months.”
Well, “dead” was a word they shared. “I am sorry for it. Do you have kin from your mother?” He raised his brows and waited quietly. She stared at the word charts.
“No. I have only Jake. And Brad. My father wanted me to marry Brad.” She glanced up at Galen. “Marry? Wed?”
He nodded. Her word for marry was the same as his word for promise. Not surprising.
“I do not love Brad. I want to love the man I marry. But Brad can speak of my father. I like to speak of my father with Brad. It makes me remember him. Like he is not dead.”
Galen saw it all. This Brad only waited for her to recover from her father’s death. Would Brad ask her to wed him, or would he just take her virginity so that she would have no choice but to wed him? Galen liked the fact that she did not love Brad. But perhaps Brad would worm his way into her affections and convince her that it was love, and she would go to him anyway.
“Do you know love?”
“No. I have known men.” She was bright red now. “But I do not know love.”
So she was not a virgin. Galen blinked rapidly. That meant she was available. That was good. It meant she might have been a prostitute at one time. He didn’t care about that. And now he knew why she wanted to be her own person, away from men who might have victimized her.
She looked up at him expectantly. Her eyes asked him a question. He grasped for what it might be. Ahhh. She wanted to know if he knew love. He couldn’t enlighten her on that one. He had loved his mother, of course, and his father in a different way. Galen treasured companions for their loyalty, their wit. He owed fealty to his king. Galen liked women, respected them sometimes even. But love?
“I do not know love also, Lucy.”
She smiled at that, a little sadly, and he returned in kind. That felt good on some deep level, to share a smile. A slinking, uncomfortable thought wormed its way into his brain. She might not love Brad, but without her maidenhead what place in the world could she have if some man did not promise for her and make her his bride, or at least agree to protect her in return for exclusive use of her body? Jake would try to protect her, but he was old. He would die soon. Her only choice might be prostitution without the protection of a man. She had disobeyed Brad. He was angry with her. Mayhaps he would not protect her. She was vulnerable. Something inside Galen stirred.
But she was so beautiful surely another man would protect her if this Brad did not. “You have other men friends, Lucy?”
She blushed again and shook her head. “Not now.” She held her chin up. “I am not what men want. Fyrfaexen. Not thin. Not tall.”
They wanted a woman to look like a starving peasant? What were the men of this time, that they did not tell this woman that she was beautiful every day of her life, with their eyes, if not with their words? Even this Brad, who lusted after her, had not made her feel the power of her beauty. Galen could make her feel beautiful, if he was to be her protector. . . .
Fool! He was in no position to be her protector. But Brad was.
If Galen had his way, this Brad would be made to promise for her. He should be flogged until his back was raw and bleeding if he made her unhappy for a moment in time. Galen wanted to be the man to do it. He grimaced and shrugged his shoulder, trying to loosen it. The swelling made it tight and painful. Curse his weakness . . . He didn’t like to think of her belonging to this Brad, but she needed someone to protect her, and this Brad was certainly powerful. Galen had no standing in this strange world to make Brad do anything or to protect Lucy himself. That thought rankled like a burr under his horse’s saddle.
But there was another thing he wanted to know. “Why did you go to my time, Lucy?”