Chapter 5 #2
The first opportunity this madman gave her to run she intended to use it.
But he seemed to sense that and stood between her and the door, giving her no opportunity, and she cursed him beneath her breath.
She could see his silhouette move through the deepening shadows like a sinister wraith.
After an interminable moment, the promised light appeared.
Elizabet blinked as she stared at the half-burned taper he held in his hand. Her gaze moved to his face.
The rotten devil had the face of an angel. It was that face she reasoned, that had made her so vulnerable. She had mistakenly believed that no man with a face like his could do something so ignoble.
Well, she had been wrong after all.
At least with the candle lit, the room didn’t appear so frightening.
Evidently, it had been used, though not recently, as someone’s home.
It was dusty now, and cobwebs had formed in the corners.
Anything that might have made the place seem cozy had been removed, and all that remained were the barest essentials.
She was seated at a small, crude table, with a portion of its top lopped off. In one corner of the room was a small brazier, and stacked beside it were a few pots and pans. In another corner lay a lone pallet.
He went to the brazier, lit it, and then came toward her once more, his presence inescapable. She cast a yearning glance at the door.
“What is this place?”
He towered before her, looking down at her, and Elizabet swallowed.
“A friend lived here. She’s wed now and gone.”
A lover, Elizabet wondered?
She cast him a glance, one brow arched. No man ever befriended a woman save to acquire her assets, be it her wealth or her body. “A friend?” she asked dubiously.
She didn’t seem to be able to keep herself from baiting him, and that simple fact unsettled her.
God only knew, she wasn’t a stupid woman.
She knew nothing about this man, but her instinct was confusing her.
Somehow, though he appeared threatening, she didn’t feel threatened.
Foolish conclusion after she’d witnessed the felling of her own brother.
“Aye,” he replied. “A verra good friend.”
“Hmph!”
So was this their secret meeting place? Her home? Had he abandoned her here to wither in the dark and cold?
She wrinkled her nose in absolute disgust. If so, these Scots had much to learn about wooing a woman! Her mother, at least, had been showered with luxuries and bathed in exotic perfumes.
“If this is all you offered the poor woman, ’tis no wonder she wed someone else!”
He had the audacity to chuckle at that.
“She wasna my woman.”
“All the worse!” Elizabet chastened, offering a baleful glance for his shameless confession.
As if that fact should excuse him!
“Nay, lass,” was all he said in his defense.
“Men are curs!” she said. “You live to eat, sleep, fight like bratty children, and you cuckold your fellows without conscience!”
He frowned at her, annoying her with his heedless attitude. “Och, she’s my best friend’s wife!”
“Since when did that stop a man?” She stood and railed at him, becoming outraged now, just thinking of the injustices her mother had suffered at the hands of men like him.
“You bloody well think the whole world belongs to you, and it matters not what a woman’s desires are.
” She jabbed him in the chest. “You pass her from hand to hand, whispering lovely promises and, all the while, you intend to honor not a single word!”
He started to speak again, but Elizabet was beside herself with the insult. He’d injured her brother, seized her against her will, and now he dared to stand before her and speak so casually of using some woman he hadn’t a right to!
“Ye misunderstand me, lass.” He was growing vexed with her. She could tell by his harassed expression.
“Aye, well, simply because you are possessed of a proud cock does not mean you can leave it to crow in every barn!” She knew it was a shocking thing for a woman to say, but she didn’t much care.
Good manners were reserved for those one wished to impress.
She hardly cared what this man thought of her.
“Good Christ!” His cheeks turned rosy. “Dinna ye ever hush, woman?”
“Nay!” Elizabet assured. “And when you kill me, I will not die silently. My screams will haunt you until the day you die!”
“I’m no’ going to kill ye, wench.”
Relief nearly choked her. “You’re not?”
He sounded incensed. “Nay!”
Well, he would surely ravage her at least.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well… when you rape me, I shall scratch out your eyes from your pretty face!”
He stood there looking at her as though she were deranged, and then shook his head. “I’m no’ going to rape ye either, for God’s sake! And neither am I pretty!”
This time, Elizabet couldn’t keep the surprise from her tone. “You’re not?”
“Nay,” he said with far too much certainty.
It occurred to her suddenly to be offended—it was that something in his tone that sounded as though the very notion of touching her was abhorrent.
Jesu! She sat here noting his beautiful face and body despite the gravity of the situation and feeling ashamed for it, and he obviously didn’t return the least attraction.
What was wrong with her that he didn’t want her?
What was wrong with her that she should want him to want her?
Dear God, it wasn’t that she wanted him to want her precisely, but that she didn’t want him not to want her, either.
And the dialogue in her head was becoming inane.
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Why not?”