By Right of Arms by Robyn Carr Read Free Book Online Page A

forced himself to have patience. His eyes again focused on hers, and he did not smile. “You will know me quite well, Aurélie. Rest assured.”

Chapter Three
    Aurélie was aware of Hyatt’s occupancy of the former lord’s chamber. She could hear his movements and wondered at his strange hours, for it seemed the chamber was never without a variety of voices, heard from early morning until late at night. More confusing to her was the fact that he left her alone in her private solar. She expected this modest luxury to be revoked at any moment.
    Isolated, by her own choice since the hall was not denied her, she gave herself to hating the victor and mourning her husband’s death. She saw only a few servants, and that they seemed to endure their captivity well did not ease her mind as it should, but only increased her fury. No one, it seemed, mourned Giles or resisted Hyatt’s rugged occupation.
    “My lord insists that you rise from your grief and prepare for a visitor,” Perrine told her when she delivered an early morning tray of food.
    “My lord?” Aurélie said, aghast. “Perrine, have you made him your lord?”
    “I have little choice, madame,” she returned. “He makes it clear his rule here will not be questioned.”
    “Does the madman expect me to visit the kitchens for his guest? Am I to don a costume to serve the vermin? I will not do his bidding. I will not discard my widow’s black.”
    The door to her chamber slowly opened and Hyatt stood there, looking in at her with an amused smile on his lips. “I was told of your stubbornness, Aurélie, but I was not warned about your impudence. I suggest that you set aside your belligerence and do as I have asked.”
    “Never,” she cried, stamping her foot in emphasis. “I am your prisoner, not your servant.” During her days of solitude her anger had built into a seething rage. She foolishly forgot the people she intended to protect from him and was insulted by his passive tolerance. While she might have cowered from his hostile treatment, she bristled under his smooth control.
    He raised one brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “I am willing to force the issue,” he said.
    She stared at him with childish insolence. “Will you cut off my legs if I do not serve? Beat the villagers if I fail to oversee the hall? My arm,” she said, thrusting it toward him. “Will it be sacrificed if I will not put aside my black? Or will it be my head?”
    “None of these,” he said easily, shrugging his shoulders. “I will simply dress you myself.”
    She was stunned into silence. She had learned, and heard from Perrine on her brief visits, that Hyatt meant to be taken seriously. And that his command was most frequently issued in a soft and patient voice that only covered a more brutal action he would not hesitate to employ.
    “I would not bemoan the task. If it were unpleasant to me, I would simply send my guard to do it.”
    She whirled around and presented her back. She wished for a moment that he would simply beat her, rather than employ his boyish charm, this courtly solicitude of asking for her compliance. And then the memory of the man’s stump and his arm lying in the dust came to mind, and she shuddered.
    “I will not dally with you, Aurélie. I’m not a patient man. Your staunchest vassals have come around to my ways and means quicker. Dress yourself and come to the hall. And I know you can make yourself look pleasant, if you try.”
    She whirled to face him, her mouth moving well ahead of her head. “Perhaps my staunchest vassals were not widowed by your army and find your demands easier to meet.”
    He took two steps into the room, a frown on his face, and she took two steps back, wondering why she had foolishly tested his temper. Had she not seen his quick hand move to maim?
“Seigneur,
I will dress and come to the hall,” she said quickly.
    He stopped immediately. “Have a care with your appearance, my lady. My guest is your father … and