Chapter 7 #3
She heard footsteps again and inhaled sharply, staring at Anne.
Sooner or later, the guards would draw open the tapestries and drag them both out.
She hesitated, then clutched Anne’s hands.
“Tell Daro I need him. Tell him I’m a prisoner about to be wed to one of the king’s lackeys.
I need his help, but he mustn’t be reckless, I don’t want lives lost, I …
I … I don’t seek a battle, only escape!”
“Mellyora, what—”
“Get back!” Mellyora told her firmly. “And don’t fail me, please, don’t fail me!”
She gave Anne a little thrust, pushing her far back into the darkness. Then, hearing that a guard was coming near, she slipped from behind the tapestry.
“There she is! Ah, lady, but we were about to flush you out!” Sir Harry stated, striding angrily toward her.
“I can make my own way, Sir Harry,” she said. She turned away from him only to realize that the hulking bald man was making his way toward her. “I can make my own way!” she repeated.
She didn’t like the look of the man she didn’t know. Unnerved, she tried to run past him. He reached out and caught her.
“Sir Harry!” she cried, trying to free herself from the huge stranger. “Sir Harry, tell this brute that I can make my own way—”
“Sir Harry has gone on, m’lady,” the bald man told her. His voice was deep and husky with a deep Highland burr.
“Let me go,” she said. “I don’t know you, I’ll see the king with Sir Harry—”
The man spun her around. “Sir Harry is gone on about his business,” the man told her. “I will escort you—”
“I can make my own way to the king.”
“I think not.”
“I’m not running anymore. I know that you’ve managed to hunt me down. I will go straight to the king, you may follow me if—”
“M’lady, it is the middle of the night. The king is not to be bothered with your tantrums now.”
“My tantrums? Fine! Well, you may follow me to my own chambers then, and I will await his summons.”
“No.”
His fingers were clamped around her arm. She stared at her arm, and into his eyes. There was something fierce and merciless there.
“Come with me. Now.”
“You just said that the king—”
“The king is not to be bothered, ye’ll come with me now to the laird.”
“Nay, I’ll not accompany you!” she declared, wrenching hard to free herself from the vise of his grip.
She clawed at his arm, wriggled and struggled, all to no avail.
He started down the corridor, and she had no choice but to follow, she was nearly lifted off of her feet.
All the way she fought, clawing, pounding, kicking, trying to bite.
He barely noticed. She was no more annoyance than a gnat.
She’d struggled so desperately that she hadn’t even realized where they had come until they were there.
He opened a door in the hallway, and thrust her in.
She had come back to the point where she had begun, she realized with a sharp gasp of dismay.
The man who had become the nightmare of her life stood before the fire, his back to her. He’d donned a clean shirt under his wool, and his still-damp dark hair had been brushed back.
“She’s here, m’laird,” the bald man said.
“Fine, Angus, thank you,” he said casually. He didn’t even turn around.
The door slammed as Angus departed.
Mellyora stared incredulously at the back of the man standing before the fire. Her fury rose along with the sick sensation that filled her as she knew she had lost.
“You cheat! You liar, you bastard!” she accused him, shaking, her voice tremulous with the depths of her anger. “You let me go just because you knew you had men in these corridors who would drag me back. You let me escape just to humiliate me—”
“I let you escape to see the futility of what you’re trying to do,” he interrupted with weary impatience. “You’ve taken a knife to me twice, you attempted to beat me to death with an oar, and still, here you are. I’m tired of your games, and that’s the end of it.”
There was no sense in her action, but she couldn’t control herself.
Her very world seemed lost and all because of this wretched king’s man.
She flew across the room, slamming her fists against his back with a thunderous vengeance as she stuttered out her fury, not able to find words to describe just how despicable she found him.
“You vile oaf, you bloody bastard, you’re a lying, conniving, sneaking, wretched excuse of a man and I’ll never forgive you—”
He spun around, and she backed a foot away from him. His eyes were narrowed as he told her, “Whether you do or do not forgive me for your own acts of foolishness and treachery mean nothing to me.”
“Nothing!” she cried. “It is all nothing to you!” In a frenzy she flew against him again, her fists now thudding against the wall of his chest, which seemed to mean nothing to him either.
“I don’t know who you think you are,” she warned him passionately, “but I will not forgive or forget ever, and I will hurt you, I swear it, for all that you have done to me!”
With a sudden, lightning-quick movement, he’d had enough.
He captured her wrists tightly. She struggled, still in a frenzy of anger, but he shook her and she was forced to go still, staring up into his eyes.
For a moment she was afraid that he would strike her down in return, his eyes promised such violence, but he did not retaliate.
“I don’t give a damn if you forgive me, forget anything, or spend your life seeking revenge, but you’d best be warned.
I gave you a chance, you made a promise.
And when you make a promise to me, you will keep your word! ” He assured her with controlled anger.
Promise, what promise? Oh, God, yes, to meet him at the king’s cottage in the forest!
“Never! Never!” she assured him, outraged. “You lie, you cheat, you tease—”