There was something hard in his tone, something that warned me I needed to leave now. But I was still too afraid to move, afraid if I turned I’d find him only half-dressed.
“I made a mistake. I should not have come in.” I took a deep breath, desperately trying to find a plausible excuse for why I was in his chambers breaking into his locked chest.
His bare feet plodded across the rushes toward me.
I tensed. I’d gotten myself into deep trouble, and this time I knew no way out.
He halted behind me. At the heat of his presence, my mind flashed with the image of his sculpted shoulders and chest.
I’d thought him winsome when I’d watched him fight in the tournament. He’d been daring and skilled and ruggedly appealing. I’d understood the amorous way the other women had gawked at him and why he’d caught their fancy. Not only was he a champion fighter, but he was entirely too handsome for anyone’s good.
With the wealth and power Lord Pitt bestowed upon him, he was a prize catch for many of the maidens still waiting for matches, although certainly not appropriate for a woman of my status.
He stood unmoving behind me, close enough I could hear his breathing and feel its warmth at the back of my neck.
I waited for him to speak or spin me around and demand to know what I was doing there. But he waited too.
The tension mounted. It was strangely charged, the air fairly crackling with something I couldn’t name. It reminded me of the time we’d been alone in the chapel.
When his fingers grazed my hip, I didn’t resist the touch. In fact, I found that I basked in the feel of him. His hand spread, his fingers splaying in that almost possessive hold he’d used when I’d ridden with him.
I was tempted to take a step backward and let him fold me against his chest. I could picture myself leaning my head against his shoulder and him pressing his nose into my hair.
His hand slipped lower. Before I knew what he was doing, his fingers darted through the slit in my skirt into my pocket. He jerked his hand loose and stepped away.
My pocket felt suddenly lighter and I knew why. He’d pilfered my mother’s brooch.
I pivoted and lunged after his hand, intending to take back what belonged to me. But he dangled the brooch above our heads out of my reach.
“I see that you’re not only skilled at swordplay but at thievery as well.” His eyes glinted like the sharp tip of a dagger.
I groped after the brooch again, angry at him for manipulating me so that he could take it back and angry at myself for nurturing any sort of attraction to him. Why did I so easily fall into the role of a simpering spineless maiden whenever he drew nigh?
He held the brooch higher, so much so that I wouldn’t be able to grasp it unless I climbed up his torso. Although he wore only his first layer of clothing, at least it was something, and I could shed my mortification from before.
“Give it back to me,” I demanded.
“I have every right to cut off your hand for stealing from me.” Before I could react, his knife was out and the blade pressed against my sleeve.
I ceased my struggling. I was in a precarious situation, and I’d clearly lost the tenuous trust and respect I’d gained with him. Although he was a fierce man, he wasn’t a brute, and I knew he wouldn’t cut off my hand. But he would sever the bond that had grown between us and cut me out of his life, and I didn’t want that to happen, though I could not say why.
“I did not steal from you,” I stated firmly.
“I witnessed you breaking into my chest and taking this brooch.” His voice was hard and the knife against my wrist unyielding.
“I cannot steal something that already belongs to me.” I met his gaze with a fierce one of my own. “In fact, if anyone deserves to have his hand cut off for thieving, it should be you.”
His expression was unreadable, and his eyes still glinted with steel.
“You stole my mother’s brooch, my most prized jewel,” I said.
The pressure of the knife lessened.
“My mother said it was her favorite jewel because the emeralds were as beautiful as my eyes.”
He dropped the knife but continued to hold the brooch as well as my gaze.
Suddenly I was conscious again of his nearness and the heat that crackled between us, and my stomach twirled a wild dance step.
What was it about this man that turned my mind into a bowl of mush? I ought to plan my next move or at least find an excuse with which to free myself from this predicament. But all I could think about was how deep and dark and beautiful his eyes were.
“My lady,” he whispered, his voice thick.
“Yes?” I whispered in return, surprised by the eagerness in my tone.
“I am no fool. You may have located this brooch. But it isn’t what you came here for or what you have been seeking these past days.”
His astuteness, as usual, startled me, but I forced myself to remain just as calm as he appeared to be. If he could stay unmoved by my close proximity, then I had to learn to do the same with him. How was it that he could affect me so thoroughly, but my presence had no sway over him?
I shifted my attention to the shirt clinging to his chest. I boldly tugged at the linen, so that it pulled loose. Then I straightened the fabric at the shoulder as if such an intimate gesture was normal between us.
Finally, I took a step back, still saying nothing, for I could speak no words in my defense. When he didn’t detain me, I moved several more steps toward the door. I wanted to make my getaway before he could say or do anything else that would reveal how much power he had over me.
I only managed another step when his hand circled my arm and stopped me. The touch wasn’t forceful or angry as it had been before. And when I met his gaze again, I was relieved to see the sharp glint was gone.
He pressed something hard into my palm. “Your mother was wrong. The emeralds are not nearly as beautiful as your eyes.”
As he released me and I continued across the room, I realized what he’d given me: my mother’s brooch along with another reason to like him more than I should.
Chapter
11
I was weary of the attention and weary of the women. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember why I’d ever agreed to spend time equally with each of the maidens during the feasting and dancing.
After yet another dance, I slipped into my place of honor next to Pitt at the head table. He broke away from his conversation with the lord opposite him and turned to me, an eager grin making his scarred face look younger.
“Any of the fair maidens catch your eye yet?” he asked too loudly so that the conversation at the women’s table died away. “And have you danced with all of them?”
I wanted to cringe at the interest now directed my way, but I masked my irritation with a smile, especially when I caught Olivia watching me with a slight smirk. She’d dined at Lady Glynnis’s table but clearly separate from the others. While the ladies had dressed up for the occasion, Olivia and Isabelle wore their everyday gowns, one of the two garments they’d been allowed to keep from among the many that had been taken from them during the raid.
I suspected Pitt would give the rest of their garments to Lady Glynnis, and she would eventually make them over into new more elaborate gowns for herself.
Even so, Olivia and Isabelle were as beautiful as always. And I found myself wishing for just one dance with Olivia. Although she was a prisoner, she was still one of the ladies, and I had made a declaration to give them all equal time, hadn’t I?
“Well?” Pitt asked again. “Have you danced with all the eligible maidens?”
“Almost all.” I reached for my goblet and took a swig. A new lively tune filled the great hall as well as the laughter and chatter of the many guests. The air was heavy with the scents of the sweet delicacies, the marzipans, tarts, and custards, all baked golden to perfection.
Although the shutters on the many long windows throughout the hall had been opened to allow in the coolness of the night, the crowded banquet hall had grown warm.