Page 23 of My Warrior
Her words obviously made the servant uneasy. The girl started wringing her hands. Cambria fought off a smile. It was going to be devilishly simple to prey upon this one’s soft heart.
“I fear I will die if I’m left here like this,” she continued. “It’s so cold.”
The girl looked upon her with eyes full of pity. “There is to be no escape from the tower, m’lady,” she said gently.
“Oh, nay, I couldn’t ask you that,” Cambria assured her, shivering, “only could you not bring me clothing to keep me warm? A servant’s kirtle, anything.”
The maid bit her lip in indecision, then whispered, “Aye, m’lady, seein’ as how you’re like to freezin’ nights and all, but I’d not let the lord catch you with it. He gave orders to bring you nothin’ but meals.”
Cambria forced a sweet, thankful smile, even clasping the maid’s hand in her own.
The girl blushed. “I’ll see what I can do, m’lady.” She withdrew her hand and hastily made her way out of the room.
Cambria had to move quickly in spite of her unthawed bones. She gulped down the remaining porridge and tested the strength of her weapon, the clay porridge pot. Twice she looked out the window to check the positions of Holden’s men.
It was a quarter hour before she heard steps coming up again. She felt an instant of regret for what she was about to do to Gwen, and she hastily prayed the girl would survive the blow, but she was desperate. With the maid temporarily disposed of and a new set of clothing, Cambria might make an escape.
The key turned in the lock.
Cambria lifted the empty pot high over her head, waiting for the servant to enter. But the door swung open with a force she’d not expected. Startled, she hesitated a moment too long before she brought the heavy vessel down.
To her horror, it wasn’t the servant’s arm that slammed her body against the wall, causing her to drop the pot, but that of a seething Holden de Ware.
CHAPTER 5
Gwen scurried in behind him, gasping as she realized the shattered pot had been meant for her.
With a snarl, the Wolf seized Cambria roughly about the waist and lugged her past Gwen, who gaped on in astonishment. He hauled her down the steps like a willful child. She fought against him, but all her writhing did nothing but raise her kirtle higher and higher up her leg. His great hands seared her like hot iron where they touched her chilled body, and she could feel the tensed muscles of his thighs beneath her as he trudged down the stairs. He held her tightly against a chest that was as unyielding as a tree, and all her struggles only made him pull her closer to that powerful body.
To her amazement, Lord Holden stopped in the hallway, kicking open the door to a richly appointed chamber, and flung her to the great curtained bed in its midst, spilling her limbs haphazardly across the pallet. Before she could recover, he took an iron shackle from his belt and quickly cuffed one of her wrists to the bedpost. Then he stood back, breathing heavily, satisfying himself that she was secure.
“You willnotescape again!” he shouted, slamming the door closed behind them.
Cambria’s fury overrode her fear. She’d had enough of the humiliation of being hauled back and forth like a sack of laundry. The last threads of her temper frayed.
“I willnotbe your vassal!” she cried, scrambling to her knees, all caution thrown to the wind in the heat of rage. “I will not sit idly by while you slay my people and take my home! I will never pledge fealty to you, you miserable bastard! There is no torture I will not endure for my clan, and no prison of your making will hold me!”
Lord Holden looked incredulous at her audacity. “And you think to replace your father as laird of Gavin.” A lock of hair fell over his brow as he railed at her, and he punctuated each of her faults with an accusing finger. “You cannot control your rampant tamper! You greatly overrate your abilities with a sword! And you haven’t got a whit of common sense!” He snapped his fingers at her. “Checkmate, my lady! This is the fortress of the enemy. You have no power here. Your very life is in my hands!”
She drilled him with her eyes and tugged violently on the shackle. “I’ve escaped you before. Iwillhave my revenge, I swear it!”
“If you will remember,” he bit out, “you have alreadytakenyour revenge. Roger Fitzroi was my knight.”
“It wasn’t my hand that ended your knight’s life,” she hissed, “although I admit if I’d had a dagger, I might well have done the deed myself. He was a bloody, swiving son of a—“
“He was the son of a king!” he barked. “You condone his murder, and yet you expect me to believe it wasn’t your doing?” He continued sardonically. “It was likewise never your intent to domeharm on the battlefield in striking me when I’d laid down my arms.”
She colored at that remark. She knew there was no excuse for her conduct that day, but she’d be damned if she’d yield the point. “I had the courage to face an adversary twice my size. How many of your knights could say that?”
“None of my knights are that stupid,” he scoffed. “That wasn’t courage. That was foolishness.”
Damn, she hated the way he stole her words and used them as weapons against her. In frustration, she resorted to hideous name-calling. “You are the vilest baseborn spawn of the devil! I hope to see your black heart torn from you and your putrid remains hung from the foulest tower! You are the very scum of the earth, you filthy, knavish, mud-suckling beast of a…”
Somewhere in the midst of her colorful tirade, Holden stopped listening. The absurdity of the situation suddenly struck him. Here he was, the lord of the castle, with the most comely wench he’d ever laid eyes on chained to his bed, and he was exchanging insults with her.
He regarded her with new eyes as she continued her futile raving. Her chestnut tresses cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, alternately exposing and concealing her linen-covered breasts with each vehement oath. Her cheeks flushed the color of a ripe peach, and her eyes sparked like two bright crystals flashing fire. Oblivious to her own beauty, unaware of how bewitching she was in her present state, she sat delectably in the midst of his bed like a tempting sweetmeat, ready to be unwrapped and consumed, and that made her all the more attractive. By God, she was distracting. He couldn’t even remember why he was angry with her.
“…and I promise you my revenge will be slow and painful and merciless!” she finished. She’d apparently run out of curses to lay upon him, simply fixing him now with an icy glare.
