Lord Of Danger Stuart, Anne (classic fiction .TXT) 📖

You should learn obedience,” he said, but there was more amusement than anger in his deep voice.

“You’re to be my husband. You’re supposed to woo me,” she replied. And then wanted to bite her tongue. She wasn’t supposed to be pert, or bold, to her husband. Particularly not one such as the wizard, with his secret powers and wicked pacts with the forces of evil. At least, she assumed he made wicked pacts. How else would he know what he knew?

He let his eyes drift over her, slowly, assessingly. Probably regretting his foolish agreement the night before, that he would take her in place of her sister. She held her head high, wishing God had granted her just a few more inches of stature if he were going to grant her such a tall husband.

“I thought you were the docile one,” he murmured.

“Yes, my lord,” she said meekly, afraid he was going to change his mind. “Compared to my sister, my lord.”

“And you’re the smart one as well? Even though you were going to put horse dung on an infected wound?”

“Yes, my lord. “She straightened her shoulders.“And the plain one.”

His eyes were like a sly weapon, all soft, lingering caresses while he stood just out of reach. “I think you’re a fraud, Lady Alys. You’ve yet to convince me of any of those three things. Now come along and stop arguing with me. The longer our patient suffers the worse it will get.”

She moved then, struggling to keep up with his long-legged stride. “Our patient?”

“She won’t accept help from me. Obviously you’ll have to deliver it. You may take all the credit for her miraculous cure, and she won’t have to worry about whether her children will be eaten. It works out quite neatly, don’t you think?”

“Quite neatly,” she said breathlessly, racing along behind him.

She was expecting to follow him up to his tower rooms, but instead he veered away from the keep, toward one of the outbuildings that lined the curtain wall. It was far removed from the chapel, well away from the cook houses and the laundry. But far too close to the stables and the mews for her state of mind. She wasn’t overly fond of hunting birds either.

The door was heavy, iron over wood, but when he pushed it open it made no complaining noise. It was silent, as enchanted as most of the things that surrounded the magician.

The room was dark, with branches of unlit candles standing like sentinels. There was a hole in the roof above the brazier, and a fireplace at one end, but very little natural light entered the tomb-like place.

He moved to one end of the long, narrow room and pushed a curtain aside, and fitful sunlight filtered in, complete with a view of the stables. Alys managed to control her sudden start of fear.

It smelled of spices. Of herbs and rich, heady scents that teased her nose and caressed her skin. The room was warm; she could see the coals burning in the fireplace, and she wondered when he’d last been there, working. He’d been in his sleeping rooms the night before, she knew that much. But there was one thing she didn’t know.

“How did I get back to the room I share with my sister?” she asked abruptly.

He had his back to her, busy with something on the wide, scarred worktable, and he didn’t bother to look at her. “On which occasion?”

He was annoying, she had to grant him that. “Last night,” she said. “After I came to your room and threw myself on your mercy.”

“I have no mercy,” he said coolly. “And in the future, I would prefer it if my future wife refrained from visiting men in their sleeping chambers.”

“How did I get back to my own room?” she persisted.

“After you slid off your chair in a faint?”

“I don’t faint!” she protested.

“Perhaps you’re unused to the amount of wine your brother serves,” he said serenely. “I would also prefer a wife who didn’t drink to excess.”

She bit back the retort that begged to be spoken. She’d made this bargain with the devil—it was no wonder he was testing her. If she backed out now it would be Claire who would pay the price.

“I didn’t drink enough of Richard’s wine to make myself giddy,” she said with deliberate calm. “As it happens, the stuff you gave me was far more potent.”

He turned to look at her through the darkness, and his amber eyes glinted with amusement. “It was, wasn’t it?” he said.

The truth of it was so obvious she was breathless. “You drugged me.” Her voice rose with accusation.

“How could I have known you would seek me out?” he countered.

“How could you know anything?” she said bitterly. “Through your pact with the devil.”

He laughed softly. “I made no pact with the devil.”

“That’s not what people say.”

“You would be wise not to listen to what people say, Lady Alys. You will avoid a lot of misinformation and speculation.”

“Then who should I listen to? You, perhaps?”

“Shouldn’t a wife listen to her husband? Be guided by him in all things?”

It was the expected response, and yet she’d never had time to consider it. The majority of her life had been spent under the strict rule of the Sisters of Saint Anne, and she’d been dutiful enough. But then, the sisters had encouraged her love of learning, her interest in experimentation, even as they’d deplored Claire’s willfulness.

None of that time had been spent around men, with the dubious exception of Brother Emory. She knew her duty well enough—a woman was a servant to her husband, bound to him in all matters. She just hadn’t considered the reality of the situation.

“I suppose so,” she said slowly.

She hadn’t realized he’d moved closer, so that he towered over her. He probably did it to intimidate her, and it worked. “But you don’t like it, do you?” he murmured.

“It’s the way things are,” she said, wishing she could back away from him, unwilling to demonstrate just