Page 11 of Bold Angel
“Why? Because you fear him?”
“I fear the king. William is my liege lord. I have vowed to do as he bids. Stephen is the king’s man.”
“And you are not?”
“Malvern controls vast fortunes. His father is one of William’s closest friends. I have not the power to gainsay him.”
“Then you are a coward as well as a cur.”
He took an ominous step in her direction. “I have given you leave to speak your mind this eve, for the circumstances have been unsettling. But I warn you, lady, you had better learn when to curb your wayward tongue. No man would dare speak to me thus. I will not tolerate it from you.”
He meant it. His thick black brows had drawn into a frown and his mouth looked thin and grim.
“Had you planned to take your vows,” he said, referring to her status as a novice, “’tis far too late for that. Your marriage will be to me and not to the church. Should yourefuse, Stephen will take you the moment you set foot outside these walls.”
“I never meant to live the life of a nun. In truth, I can think of nothing more loathsome than whiling away the years within some cold damp cell.” She lifted her chin. “Except, mayhap, being married to you.”
“Marriage to you is hardly what I had planned. You’re naught but a girl. I would wed with a woman—a full-sized one at that.” Caryn bristled. “You are not dowered. You bring naught to this union but the rags on your back. Still, ’tis too late to change things now.”
“’Tis not too late. You cannot force me and I will not consent.” She turned her back to him and walked to the small arrow hole that served as a window.
She hadn’t liked the way his eyes found the rent in her garment, the way her stomach tightened when they did. He was hard and tough, his look even fiercer than Lord Stephen’s… and far more intimate. As if he yet sized her up for the duties she would perform in the marriage bed.
“Should you refuse me,” he said, “Malvern would make you his leman. When he tires of you, he would share you with his men. You have seen enough here this night to know what will happen when he does.”
She would be beaten and brutalized, a victim of rapine, mayhap even murder. Caryn shivered beneath those stormy eyes. “Why? If I am such a poor choice for wife, why do you want me?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders, rippling the muscles along his arms. “I owe you. What happened that day in the meadow… it never should have occurred. I would change things if I could. Since I cannot, this time I would see you safe.”
So the big brute had a conscience. As much as she loathed what he and the others had done, Caryn found the thought strangely comforting. And equally strange,she found she did not fear him. At least not in the same way she feared Malvern.
“Why should I believe I am better off with you?”
“You will be my wife.”
Wife.It was a word she had scarcely considered during her years in the convent. Certainly ’twas not a state she looked forward to. She wanted her freedom. She craved it now, as she had every day for the last three years. Mayhap even before that. She wanted to be on her own, beholden to no man, experiencing the world and all its wonder. It would not be easy, yet she had always believed she would find a way to make it happen.
Time was what she needed. Time enough to make plans to escape. She forced herself to smile, an idea already forming at the edges of her mind.
“Mayhap you are right, my lord. The past has no place in the present. Besides, it would seem I have no choice. Should you wish to wed with me, I will agree.” Mother of God, the words nearly stuck in her throat.
“My name is Ral.”
Ral the Relentless. The Dark Knight. Never would she have guessed he was the Lord of Braxston Keep. “I am called Caryn.”
“So your tiering woman, Marta, has said. She has served you well this eve and will remain in your service from this day forward.” He strode to the door and yanked it open, bellowed for servants, and Marta appeared.
“Show your lady to a chamber.” Though he spoke to Marta, he turned in Caryn’s direction, those cool blue-gray eyes looking not nearly cool enough as he assessed her. “There is a peddler in the village. We passed him on the road. Send a messenger on the morrow. Ask that he bring his wares. I would see the lady clothed as one.”
Caryn started to protest, to tell him she wanted nothing from the Norman scum, but caught herself just intime. Instead she glanced at the wall where a weathered shield hung beside a leather quiver filled with arrows. A huge black dragon on a field of bloodred. Caryn shivered.
When she looked at the Dark Knight’s face, she found him watching her, his eyes fixed on the rise and fall of her breasts. It was almost as if he touched her, not the rough brutal touch of Malvern’s hand, but a soft caress that slid over her like the wisp of a feather.
“Do not return downstairs until Lord Stephen has gone,” he warned as she forced her legs to move toward the door.
Caryn paused, turning to look into his handsome face. “Surely I am no longer in danger.”
“Do not gainsay me in this,ma petite.Should you wish to reach my bed with your maidenhead still intact you will do exactly as I say.”
