Master Of Surrender by Karin Tabke Read Free Book Online Page B

eyes, the high cheekbones, and the aquiline nose. The blunt cut of his chin carried the line of the scar as if it was meant to be there.
    Her belly trembled as the vision of him bending her to his carnal will flashed in her head. Panic tore through her with the fury of a maelstrom. Her body stiffened as taut as a bow string. Until she remembered his oath to grant her any wish should she save his man. Letting out a long breath, Isabel quieted her nerves and turned her attention back to the giant. “Your Manhku will heal so long as he remains down and the wound has time to knit. Once healed, it will not be pretty, and he will have less strength.” She pressed the back of her hand to his damp brow. “Pray he does not take the fever. The result, should he survive it, will be a wooden leg.”
    She struggled to stand, her legs tight from her position on the hard stone floor. The dark knight took her elbow. She swatted his hand away and nearly fell back into the fire. Rohan grabbed her to him, laughing at her struggle to be free of him. “I do not bite, damsel.”
    With reluctance, Isabel allowed him to steady her and guide her upward. “’Tis not your bite that concerns me, sir.”
    He threw his head backed and laughed heartily. He peered at her, a genuine smile gracing his lips. Something shifted deep inside her. The transformation to his face when he smiled was staggering.
    He lowered his voice, and as if they were the only two in the great hall, he said, “You may well find you would come to crave my bite.”
    Heat rushed to Isabel’s cheeks. Her back stiffened. “I would never!”
    His grin widened, and he bent close to her and whispered, “Never say never, damsel. Those words may come back to mock you.”
    Isabel stepped back from him, shaking her head. Her heavy hair swirled around her shoulders. “Do not speak to me of such things. ’Tis not decent.”
    His face closed at her words, and his eyes hardened. “Nor am I.”
    Her heart thundered against her chest wall. One minute he threatened her life, then the next he made her promises of pleasure? His next action stymied her more. As if she were queen of the realm, he stepped back and bowed ever so chivalrously.
    “Lady Isabel, ’twould appear my man’s life has been spared due to your experienced hand. What prize do you choose for the life you saved?”
    She smiled sweetly and curtsied. “Why, sir knight, my maidenhead, of course.”
    Rohan’s men roared uproariously behind him. Thorin slapped him hard on the back. “Hah, Rohan, the lady does best you at your own game.”
    With great satisfaction, Isabel watched the dark knight’s eyes narrow, the golden sparks barely discernible beneath his stormy brow. She could see him mulling over her demand. He bowed again and grinned wide. “’Tis a price worth paying for my man’s life. No woman’s maidenhead is worth more.”
    The smile that played on her lips faded. She suspected this knight, Sir Rohan du Luc, did not have much regard for the fairer sex. She wondered why, then caught herself. It mattered not, for she did not care. Instead, she curtsied and asked, “Sir knight, may I be excused to see to the business of running this keep?”
    He nodded. “Aye, prepare a feast. For this eve we celebrate!”
    She scowled. “Winter comes, the stores—”
    “Are full to bursting. My men will hunt and fill the smokehouse more.”
    Isabel curtsied again, and this time she did not choose to hide her contempt. “Of course, Sir Rohan, a feast for you to celebrate the blood on your sword.”
    She turned and had begun to walk away when he called out to her. “Lady Isabel?”
    She halted in her tracks, her body tense. Setting her jaw, she turned to face him. He stood rubbing his chest as if a wound bothered him. But his wide grin belied any pain. Indeed, his sprits suddenly soared with the eagles. She cocked a brow in question.
    “Before the meal, have a bath prepared in the lord’s chamber, and make yourself