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

“Considering that someone spent most of the night pacing in your room, and it could scarcely be your silly-headed sister, I would have thought you’d be in dire need of a rest.”

She froze. “You were watching? You set spies on me? How could you do such a thing?”

“Quite easily, in truth, but I did not. If you had managed to keep your eyes open during one of your nocturnal visits to my solar, you would have realized that I have a view of both the surrounding countryside and most of the keep. I can see the room you share with your sister simply by looking out a window.”

“Did you watch me undress?” The sharp question was out before she could call it back.

Her mortification was increased by his laughter. “My eyes are not that good, and I keep my looking glass in the workshop. Though now that you mention it, perhaps I should have my servants bring it up to my room so that I can peruse your naked body at my leisure.”

“You enjoy tormenting me,” she said stiffly.

“You are so very easy to torment,” he murmured, and she realized he was very close indeed. She hadn’t even been aware of his moving toward her; he’d accomplished it with his usual stealthy grace. “If I wished to watch you take off your clothes I would simply arrange to have you brought to my room and make you do so.”

“Don’t you think my brother might have some objection?”

The look in his eyes failed to reassure her. There was a bitter humor that was entirely lacking in warmth, and even in the heated room Alys suddenly felt chilled. “Your brother needs me, Lady Alys,” he said. “I expect he would deny me nothing.”

She believed him. She would believe almost everything bad of Richard, and Simon of Navarre was not the man to make idle boasts. “What does he need you for?” she asked.

“Everything his heart desires, my lady,” he said with a cynical twist of a smile.

For a moment she said nothing, perusing the shadowy confines of his workshop. The brazier glowed at the far end of the long, low room, and the scent of spice was in the air. “My brother wants power,” she said. “He wants wealth.”

“I can give him those things.”

“He wants women as well.”

“I can provide him with herbs that will make the most recalcitrant of females overeager.”

She froze. “Is that what you put in my wine?” she demanded in horror.

He was too close to her. He touched her chin, tilting her face up to his so he could view it with care. “No, my lady. Why do you ask? Have you been feeling over-eager?”

She pulled away from him, stumbling back over her long skirts. “No,” she said. “But I have no doubt you think I’m the most recalcitrant of females.”

“It’s part of your charm,” he murmured.

“You should have no wish to wed an unwilling woman.”

“Ah, but I thought you were willing. You offered yourself so sweetly in the place of your little sister. Have you changed your mind?”

“I cannot imagine what you would want in either of us,” she said bluntly.

“An alliance with the house of de Lancie is not to be taken lightly. Lord Richard is a very powerful man, and with my help, that power may increase. It would be a prudent marriage for me.”

“And you are a prudent man?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then why have you agreed to marry me?” She wasn’t absolutely certain she wanted to hear the answer, but she was sure she wouldn’t rest until she knew.

He smiled down at her, a cool, wintry smile that didn’t reach his golden eyes. “Because I was bored,” he said. “And you seemed far more likely to interest me than your silly little sister.”

She believed him. He was a strange man, one who’d marry out of boredom, one who’d give his loyalty to a man far less worthy. A man would own her, possess her, body and soul. She was afraid of him, it would be foolish to deny it.

But she was also fascinated by him, like a fat, juicy mouse being hunted by a snake, all she could do was stand still and quiver, looking at him out of her wide eyes…

She laughed at herself, breaking the spell he’d cast over her. She half expected fury on his part, but he simply looked at her with a question in his eyes. “Something amuses you, my lady?”

“My own over-active imagination,” she confessed. “There is no reason on earth that I should be frightened of you. Is there?”

“Is there?” he echoed.

And in the distance, she thought she could hear the faint hissing of a snake.

Chapter Eleven

Simon of Navarre had one strong, immediate need. To strip that phenomenally ugly brown dress from Alys of Summersedge.

It wasn’t a need to have her naked, though that was a strong enough motive. He was used to holding his desires at bay—it sharpened them, and made their fulfillment all the more satisfying.

But the sheer ugliness of her clothes was an affront She was standing at a work bench, her narrow sleeves pushed up her forearms, her neatly plaited hair escaping from the restraining veil and circlet The warmth of the brazier had caused a faint sheen to glisten on her broad, calm brow. The sweet, clean scent of flowers and soap mixed with the richness of spices.

The dress was laced up the back—he could simply take a knife and cut the ties, and with luck it would fall at her feet. Except that he would need two good hands to accomplish such a feat, and he wasn’t about to trust Lady Alys with the truth.

She was concentrating on the task he’d set her, a simple enough mixture of horehound and rosemary that would cure all but the most stubborn case of body lice. She was a quick enough learner, exact in her measurements, steady in her gestures. He enjoyed watching her move. She did so with a certain calm grace that