the reason for holding the boy hostage had not tempered her sympathy. As long as Seabrook held the child, he was certain of le Draca’s behavior. It was as if he held the Dragon on a leash and could jerk him to heel with just the suggestion of harm to his son. Yea,she understood well the reasoning behind holding Justin hostage, and the same applied to her situation now.
She drew in a shaky breath, wishing she were not too weary to think clearly. If only le Draca had waited till the morrow to press his demands. Then she could have met him with a clear head and solid arguments. As he must have well known.
“Well, milady?”
His brusque reminder frayed her already tattered composure. He was standing too close; the proximity of his height and breadth was intimidating enough without his growling reminder. She took a step back and felt the hard pressure of the bed against her knees. To her dismay, le Draca stepped even closer. He was almost touching her now, so close that she could count the gilt threads of the embroidered dragon on his tunic.
“I will not yield,” she heard herself saying in a breathless voice, and saw his dark-blond brows snap down over his eyes.
“Yea, milady,” he grated, “you will yet yield the day, I assure you.” His hand flashed out to grab her arm, fingers biting into flesh already bruised by the days travails. Jerking her close, he thrust his other hand into the tangled mass of hair on the nape of her neck, curling his fingers into a painful fist that held her still.
Annice felt the sharp pressure of his belt buckle against her chest, and her hands flung out to brace herself against him. She encountered the hard, unyielding muscles of his chest beneath her palms and fought a spurt of unbridled fear. There would be no mercy from this seasoned knight, only retribution for her defiance. The fingers of her right hand brushed against the hilt of the dagger in his belt and immediately closed around it. Before the Dragon could guess her intent, she had drawn his dagger from its sheath.
Holding it against his belly, she stared up at him with more boldness than she felt. Tension and fear made her hand quiver, but her voice was steady. “And now, my lord? Would you loose me ere I carve my name into your belly?”
For a brief, sizzling instant he stared down at her with as much surprise as fury. ’Twas plain he had not consideredher reckless enough to draw a weapon on him. There was a flicker of something like admiration in his green eyes before they narrowed to cold, glittering slits.
Not loosening his grip on her, he said softly, “Your folly is like to cost you dear, milady.”
Annice had no time to react before he jerked harshly on her hair, snapping her head back at the same time that his other hand closed around the wrist of the hand holding his dagger. Hard fingers bit into the tendons, and she dropped the dagger with a cry of pain.
“Release me,” she gasped out, unable to stop the plea before it escaped her lips. He had her bent backward, his grip tight on her hair while his other hand caught up the dagger.
“Nay,” he said, “ ’twill not be at your whim that I release you, little vixen. ’Twill be at my own. And I find myself intrigued by a woman with such a willful nature that she would dare attack a knight in his own keep. Are you that brave? Or merely that foolish? ’Tis an interesting puzzle, I vow.”
Pressing her slowly back, le Draca forced her harder against the unyielding bed frame, until she found herself sinking backward. Panic flared hotly in her as she felt the straw-stuffed mattress cushion her shoulders. Surely he did not mean to—
“Nay, lord!” she blurted, struggling against his grip and the hot intent she read in his eyes. “I warn you, do not do this.…”
A muscled thigh settled over her, effectively pinning her flailing legs to the mattress. He still gripped her hair to hold her still, his other arm braced against the mattress beside her head.
She drew in a shaky breath, wishing she were not too weary to think clearly. If only le Draca had waited till the morrow to press his demands. Then she could have met him with a clear head and solid arguments. As he must have well known.
“Well, milady?”
His brusque reminder frayed her already tattered composure. He was standing too close; the proximity of his height and breadth was intimidating enough without his growling reminder. She took a step back and felt the hard pressure of the bed against her knees. To her dismay, le Draca stepped even closer. He was almost touching her now, so close that she could count the gilt threads of the embroidered dragon on his tunic.
“I will not yield,” she heard herself saying in a breathless voice, and saw his dark-blond brows snap down over his eyes.
“Yea, milady,” he grated, “you will yet yield the day, I assure you.” His hand flashed out to grab her arm, fingers biting into flesh already bruised by the days travails. Jerking her close, he thrust his other hand into the tangled mass of hair on the nape of her neck, curling his fingers into a painful fist that held her still.
Annice felt the sharp pressure of his belt buckle against her chest, and her hands flung out to brace herself against him. She encountered the hard, unyielding muscles of his chest beneath her palms and fought a spurt of unbridled fear. There would be no mercy from this seasoned knight, only retribution for her defiance. The fingers of her right hand brushed against the hilt of the dagger in his belt and immediately closed around it. Before the Dragon could guess her intent, she had drawn his dagger from its sheath.
Holding it against his belly, she stared up at him with more boldness than she felt. Tension and fear made her hand quiver, but her voice was steady. “And now, my lord? Would you loose me ere I carve my name into your belly?”
For a brief, sizzling instant he stared down at her with as much surprise as fury. ’Twas plain he had not consideredher reckless enough to draw a weapon on him. There was a flicker of something like admiration in his green eyes before they narrowed to cold, glittering slits.
Not loosening his grip on her, he said softly, “Your folly is like to cost you dear, milady.”
Annice had no time to react before he jerked harshly on her hair, snapping her head back at the same time that his other hand closed around the wrist of the hand holding his dagger. Hard fingers bit into the tendons, and she dropped the dagger with a cry of pain.
“Release me,” she gasped out, unable to stop the plea before it escaped her lips. He had her bent backward, his grip tight on her hair while his other hand caught up the dagger.
“Nay,” he said, “ ’twill not be at your whim that I release you, little vixen. ’Twill be at my own. And I find myself intrigued by a woman with such a willful nature that she would dare attack a knight in his own keep. Are you that brave? Or merely that foolish? ’Tis an interesting puzzle, I vow.”
Pressing her slowly back, le Draca forced her harder against the unyielding bed frame, until she found herself sinking backward. Panic flared hotly in her as she felt the straw-stuffed mattress cushion her shoulders. Surely he did not mean to—
“Nay, lord!” she blurted, struggling against his grip and the hot intent she read in his eyes. “I warn you, do not do this.…”
A muscled thigh settled over her, effectively pinning her flailing legs to the mattress. He still gripped her hair to hold her still, his other arm braced against the mattress beside her head.
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