Page 37 of Come the Morning

“Mine,” he told her, and entered with her. Once inside, he strode to the bed set in an arched inner chamber against the wall.

She leapt up; he pushed her firmly back. “You’ll wait here.”

She shook her head desperately, so tired, but now more dismayed than ever regarding this strange man who’d come after her so relentlessly. He obviously had great influence with the king, and she had so little time left for any argument or fight. She’d been gone more than a day now, she thought, and the king would indeed be furious. “Please! Please!” she begged him, rising again and placing a hand gently upon his arm. “Don’t do this! Don’t leave me here trapped. Help me. I swear that I do honor and love the king, but he is wrong in this. He intends to give me to that despicable—”

“Wretched, decaying, old Norman, Waryk de Graham.”

“Aye! You know! Oh, God, you must understand, there is another way. If you’ll just help me—”

“But I won’t. Excuse me; I’ll be back, m’lady.”

He walked away from her toward the door, and she shook her head again, following.

“Wait!”

“What?” he demanded, stopping and turned back with exasperation.

“Help me get out of here. Please. Help me escape that awful man. I swear, I can pay you with riches you can’t begin to imagine. Viking gold.”

She swallowed nervously as he reached her once again, standing before her, handsome face cast at a devilish angle as he looked down upon her.

She clenched her fists at her sides. “Aye,” she told him.

“Hmmm …”

“Lots of it!”

His smile deepened. “Tempting. But then, so much has been tempting tonight. But what if I weren’t interested in gold?”

Her heart seemed to skip a beat. “What do you mean?” she asked him quickly. She was afraid that she knew exactly what he meant. How strange, when he’d mocked her so. Yet, she had tried to tempt—and irritate and disarm—him. Had she been more successful than she had imagined? He was obviously a virile man, yet …

She assumed as well that women were easy for him. He was built like steel and rock, and he was young, and his features were handsome, his smile even sensual. Was he mocking her again?

He smiled slowly, watching her, as if reading her mind. “I have a fair amount of gold,” he said, stretching out an arm to indicate the richness of the room. “Plunder, you know. Battle gain.”

“All men want to be richer,” she said, moistening her lips.

“Well, riches mean different things to different people, don’t they?”

“Not to the king,” she murmured bitterly.

He shrugged. “What can you offer besides gold?”

“Jewels, Celtic art, you wouldn’t believe how fine some of the ancient pieces of jewelry we have are … and we have ancient manuscripts, excellent armor, horses—”

“But they aren’t really yours to give, are they?” he queried.

“Indeed, they are. They are riches that have belonged to my mother’s family—”

“At the moment, it’s irrelevant to whom these things really belong. They’re not what I had in mind.”

She met his eyes, feeling a strange sensation as if both fire and ice were filling her veins. She suddenly wanted to run from him with a greater urgency than that with which she had fledthe fortress, and yet she was backed to an alcove, so there was nowhere to go. She decided on boldness.

“You mocked my ‘noble beauty’ before, m’laird. What would you want with it now?”

“I’ve been on a long battle campaign,” he said with a shrug. “You might be a pleasant diversion.”

“You certainly had plenty of opportunity for …”