brought her to his bedchamber.
A roaring fire had been lit in the hearth. Struggling hard to maintain her composure, Alana instinctively moved closer to its warmth.
She whirled when she heard a bolt slam down across the wide oaken door. A jolt went through her as she saw that Merrick had turned back to her. He surveyed her with hands braced against his hips, his posture so arrogantly masterful that she felt a sizzle of anger all through her.
Through some miracle she managed to raiseher chin bravely. “Have you not had your fill of unwilling Saxon maids, Norman?”
His slow-growing smile was maddening. “Did you know me better, you would know I’ve no need to take by force what can be won with honeyed words and lips—and indeed, with far more pleasure.”
Alana’s lip curled. “Ah, yes. Raoul told me how all the Norman maids swoon at your feet. But if indeed I should do so, know this, Norman—’twill be in disgust.”
His smile remained, but his eyes had gone utterly cold. Still, when he spoke, his tone was almost pleasant. “Lady, were I you, I would consider what course you pursue. For indeed, I might well be tempted to show you how very wrong you are. Indeed, it might prove quite a challenge to show you what untruth you dare speak.”
He was right. She didn’t realize that to taunt him was to tempt him. Nervously she moistened her mouth with the tip of her tongue. Wisely, Alana said nothing. Warily she watched as he crossed to a small square table across from the hearth. A flask of wine had been placed there, and he poured a generous measure into a chalice. He picked it up and drank deeply. As he lowered it, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring across at her all the while.
In truth, Alana was thoroughly unnerved. Her father had been a kind, soft-spoken man; he was firm when the occasion demanded it, but never cruel. And though the men in thevillage were sometimes coarse and irreverent, they were farmers, not soldiers. But Merrick…he was a warrior through and through. She sensed a hardness in him—a ruthlessness that was somehow frightening.
Slowly he approached her. Alana stiffened as he came near. He did not stop until they stood but a breath apart. A faint alarm seized her then, for she was struck anew by his size. He was so tall her head scarcely reached his shoulder. The level of her gaze rested squarely in the center of his chest. He made her feel small and feeble—and helpless in a way she liked not at all.
“I would make certain I understand, Saxon. If you were to find yourself locked fast in my embrace, you would feel only disgust?”
Her chin came up. He stood so close she was forced to tilt her head to meet his gaze. “Aye!” she said heatedly.
He raised a brow. “Let us be honest, Saxon. I am not so very ill-favored. Indeed, I am scarcely a leper. Why, there are many who find me quite appealing.”
Alana gasped. Oh, but she had never encountered a man so boastful! She spoke unthinkingly—and quite recklessly. “You say you are no leper. Well, I say you are no prize either!”
The makings of a smile dallied about that hard mouth. “Ah,” he said lightly, “but I suspect you may well be a treasure indeed. So come now. ’Twas but a kiss I craved earlier. ’Tis but a kiss I ask now.”
“Ask?” she cried in outrage. “’Tis not inyour nature to ask, nor even to demand. You Normans take what you would have. And ’tis not a kiss you seek but far more! Well, know this, Norman. I will not have you. Do you hear, I-I will not have you!”
Their gazes tangled furiously. His lips hardened into a grim line. His eyes blazed blue fire. Yet to Alana’s surprise, he said nothing. She gave a silent sigh of relief when he retreated back to the table. There he reached again for his chalice, then turned back to her. His words were not what she expected.
“The war is over,” he said easily. “William will bring peace to the land. I suggest we put aside our enmity as
Learning to Kill: Stories