Scoundrel's Kiss by Carrie Lofty Read Free Book Online Page B

submission.
"I want nothing of your bawdy offers, mujer."
    "So pious."
    "I'm trying, yes."
    "No, you're lying to
yourself."
    He tethered his hands to the reins.
"Tis no concern of yours."
    "Forgive me," she said with a
sneer. "I'm more accustomed to dealing with men, not servants of
God."
    "You're accustomed to dealing with
a lovesick boy who could not refuse you. I'm no such boy, and I want you to use
your manners."
    "Manners?"
    "Yes. When you ask my help, you'll
say 'please'."
    Her eyes lost their brightness. Every
drop of blue melted into an overcast gray. "Never."
    "I won't offer my assistance
again," he said. "Do this willingly, or you'll spite yourself much
worse than I ever could."
    "And that will cure me?"
    "Eventually."
    "I'd kill you first," she
said.
    "But I want you cured more than
you want your poison."
    "I very much doubt that."
    "And when the next band of
renegades comes this way, they'll number too many for you to defend
against."
    A quiet voice, one unlike any he had
ever heard, crept across the mesa. "But then I might have an end to all
this."
    An unwanted flicker of sympathy and a
stronger, more nourishing anger propelled his words. "Do you seek death, inglesa? Is that what you crave?"
    She retreated one step, then two.
"You know what I need. The alternative is going without, and that I cannot
do. Not again."
    "You're a coward."
    "And what would you know of
bravery, hiding away from the world?"
    The image of a battlefield dotted with
corpses and fallen horses appeared in his mind's eye. Alarcos. That heady
victory. He had been as brave as ten men on that long day, slaying enemies with
glee and impunity. His bravery had bordered on bloodlust, devoid of thought or
humanity. But to what end? He had been on the winning side, but those who had
fallen under his sword had been Castilians.
    He was a better man now, denying that
barbaric part of him.
    "I'm a student, learning to submit
As must you."
    "I will not—"
    Before Ada had a chance to finish, he
grabbed her forearm and spun her. Their bodies came together, her bare back
against his chest.
    "I asked you before," he
rasped. "Now I'll have that answer. Do you want to die?"
    "Release me!"
    "Submit, inglesa." Closer
now, he pulled up on her arm. She winced.
    "I will not."
    Her dagger flashed in the sunlight and
sliced through his sleeve and skin. Blood welled red and fast. Tensing against
the pain, he snatched the blade and slung it to the ground.
    The memory of her agonized voice
punched into his mind, through the pain and past his frustrations. I will
not be held captive again.
    Gavriel had known captivity, and the
very idea of returning to the service of his former master chilled him. He
would rather die. Whatever this woman had suffered backed her toward the same
conclusion. Death was better than captivity. And while Gavriel tried to find
comfort in submission, she only saw. it as weakness. Another trap.
    "You don't want to die, but you
cannot live with the fear." He turned her to face him. Their eyes met
across an ocean of anger. "That's why you fight, isn't it? Likely, it's
how you've learned what you know of combat."
    She nodded, just barely.
    "Then let me help you."
     
    Chapter 5
    Help. This was his idea of help?
    Ada glared at the back of Gavriel's
head. He rode high on his steed, keeping company with his morals, while she
walked behind the horses, tethered like a criminal. The harder she fought
against the ropes binding her wrists, the tighter the knots became. A second, shorter
piece of rope laced the back of her gown shut She would have sworn his hands
shook as he had worked in quiet diligence to make her decent.
    The caravan merchants had crawled from
beneath their wagon hiding places to assess the damage. Two of the guards still
lived, as did Pacheco and Fernan. The latter appeared an unbecoming shade of
green. Streaks of vomit sullied his white robes.
    Down from his horse, Gavriel stalked
from wagon to wagon and appraised the scene with a quick,