Page 24 of My Warrior
He responded, not with his previous malice, but with a thickness in his voice that felt as if he’d swallowed honey.
“Revenge?” he asked, moving in on her like his namesake wolf. “What revenge will you take, lady, shackled to my bed?” His eyes flickered over her body, and what he said next was only half a lie. “Ah, indeed you wreak your revenge even now.”
She might not have understood his words, but the hunger in his regard made her yank the fur coverlet from the bed with her free hand to shield herself. And for the first time, he saw fear in her eyes, genuine, naked fear.
He narrowed his gaze. Hell, he’d just stumbled upon the chink in the wench’s armor. Violence didn’t frighten her—she’d been trained to accept it. But lust she didn’t understand, and one always feared what one didn’t understand. Perhaps he did have a weapon to use against her after all.
But not now. Too much was at stake. With a rueful smile and enormous effort, he forced himself to back away till she visibly relaxed. It was the most difficult thing he’d done in his life.
“Mark well my words, lady. You are powerless, but you are also safe here. Were you to escape again, there are many men who wouldn’t think twice before slitting your pretty throat.” He added, “And I’m not certain they’d be in the wrong.”
“You believe I killed him.” It wasn’t a question.
“You’ve done little to prove yourselfincapable of the deed.”
Her frown was thoughtful. “What will you do with me?”
“For the moment, you’ll remain here.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t mean to leave me chained to a bed like some…”
He smirked at her offended propriety and cocked his brow at her, fueling the fire of her temper. “You have a place to sleep. I’ll have meals brought to you. And there’s a chamberpot beside the bed. You have all the comforts you require.”
“Have you no…decency?” she sputtered. “I’m a lady.”
“No lady curses the way you do, and no lady commits murder.”
“I do not curse, you bloody bastard, and I’ve never killed a man in my life!” she snapped. “How dare you dishonor me by keeping me here. You know well what people will say.”
“What will they say?”
She exhaled in a huff of exasperation. “They’ll say that you keep me here for…” She began to blush. It was most becoming. “That we’re…”
“Lovers?”
Her face turned crimson.
“They already think you’re a murderer,” he said. “What do you care if they think you’re a whore?”
The wench lunged against the chain as if she ached to claw his eyes out. He shook his head at her useless movements.
“I have things to attend to,” he told her. “I’ll send up bread and wine for you. This time, have a care for Gwen. She’s a loyal servant. I’d hate to have to beat her for her assistance in your escape.”
She paled at his words, and he suppressed a smile. His threat was ludicrous. He’d never raised his fist to a woman in his life. He pulled a ring of keys from his pouch and dangled it like a bone before a hound.
“I hold the key to your shackles. It never leaves me.” Her face fell as he tucked her only hope back into the pouch. “You’ll be isolated here—no one will enter this chamber without my permission.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It shall prove entertaining, I’m certain, to see just how you plan to escape this time.”
She glared at him as he inclined his head toward her in farewell, exiting with a flourish.
Cambria, of course, immediately began considering the possibilities for that escape. Unfortunately, with the key in de Ware’s possession, freedom was unlikely. How long would he keep her here? He’s said it would be breaking a vow to slay her, but wouldn’t his knights demand satisfaction? Someone would have to pay for the life of Roger Fitzroi. She crumpled the fur coverlet in her fist. No one would believe the truth. And yet Lord Holden was keeping her alive.
Perhaps he expected her to confess. After all, an admission of guilt would seal her fate, leaving him blameless. She glanced at the heavy iron band encircling her wrist. Perhaps he intended to shame her into confessing.
It wouldn’t work, of course. She’d learned long ago to put her own pride aside for the needs of her clan. Still, she hoped none of her men would find her in this compromising position. And she prayed she wouldn’t have to see Lord Holden again today.
By day’s end, it looked as if one prayer had been answered. Gwen had taken away her half-eaten trencher of pottage, the moon had already risen in the black sky, and the Wolf hadn’t returned.
He’d probably found some strumpet’s linens to lie between. She flounced onto her side in disgust and punched down the feather bolster. Tucking the warm furs about her and gazing into the dying embers of a fire she couldn’t reach to bank, she slowly faded off to sleep.
