Мериел Фуллер – Captured by the Warrior (страница 11)
‘I don’t believe you!’ she sobbed out breathlessly. ‘Look at the way you’re treating me! You’re a thug…like the rest of your soldiers.’ Her lissom frame vibrated with fear. Did she really believe he would attack her? His hands moved to her upper arms, to steady her, calm her. ‘Nay…you misunderstand,’ he murmured mildly.
But Alice refused to hear him, her mind whirling with stark images of what she thought was about to happen. She made a last, desperate bid for freedom. ‘For your information…I am betrothed, you know…and he…he…my betrothed…’ she struggled to find the words, for in her heart she struggled with the concept that Edmund would be her husband ‘…wouldn’t be very happy with what you’re about to do.’
‘And what am I about to do?’ Bastien tried to look stern, but in reality, he was finding it extremely difficult not to laugh. Under the white sheen of moonlight, the contours of his face seemed carved, sculptured from granite.
‘You’re…you’re…’ Alice hiccoughed ‘…going to…’ She stopped. A frown creased her brow. Something wasn’t quite right. Surely he would be throwing her to the ground right now, trying to tear her clothes off? The very thought made her blush furiously, and she studied her feet, praying that he couldn’t see her face in the moonlit shadows.
‘Methinks you flatter yourself, my lady,’ he replied, his tone faintly insulting. ‘You’re far too short for most men’s tastes. And dressed in all that garb you resemble little more than a suet dumpling. Hardly seductive.’
Dumpling? His words sent a storm of angry humiliation through her. ‘How dare you speak to me so! You’re outrageous!’ she reacted instinctively.
‘Would you rather I raped you?’ he asked slowly, shockingly, his face looming close to her own. Her mouth closed with a snap as she caught the feral glitter in his eyes. She shook her head at his words, drawing away from him slightly. ‘I thought not,’ he continued, ‘so let’s hear no more on the subject.’ He tilted his head in the direction of the camp. ‘Tell me, why did you leap to that older man’s defence back there?’
Alice touched one finger to the side of her mouth, throbbing and sore from the impact of the soldier’s fist. ‘Your soldier hit him, because he asked for some food.’
‘Even after I warned you not to draw attention to yourself?’ The bruise on her mouth appeared as a dark splotch, mottled in this light, lines of blood creasing her lip. Guilt laced his gut. He should have stayed with the group; the Duke of York’s men were renowned for their cruelty. He should have been on his guard. ‘It was a foolish thing to do,’ he murmured. ‘What were you thinking?’
I wasn’t thinking, she mused silently. I saw my father, my own kith and kin in trouble and I had to help him. Alice raised her chin, pulling her spine straight. ‘I was not going to sit by and watch that man being beaten to a pulp.’
‘I wouldn’t have let that happen.’
‘What?’ she replied, appalled, her voice rising a couple of notches as she stared up into his tanned face, her eyes wide with bright intelligence. ‘You mean you saw what was going on and you did nothing to stop it? How could you be so callous?’ Her expression held nothing but accusation, blame. Anger flared over him, unearthing memories he didn’t want: his mother’s bitter voice, her cold stare.
He leaned down so his face was on a level with hers, his own expression blank, hostile. ‘The Lancastrians are our prisoners,’ he reminded her, rigidly. ‘This is how prisoners are always treated.’ And worse, he thought silently.
His face was inches from her own, but she held her ground, incensed by what he had told her. Her earlier fear of attack had disappeared; he obviously had no feelings towards her as a woman—indeed, he seemed to have no feelings at all, for anybody. Her fingers curled, compressing into her palms, clenching her resolve. She knew he was annoyed, sensed the ripple of irritation seizing his body, saw it in the diamond sparkle of his eyes. Yet something pushed her on; a sense of righteous indignation, of some higher moral code, she knew not what.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself. Those men are human beings, just like you and me, and should be treated with respect and courtesy.’ She exhaled, her breath expelling from her lungs with force: she hadn’t realised how tightly she had been holding it.
Her words needled him. Everything about this situation was so wrong; he couldn’t remember a time when he had heard a woman speak thus, or behave in such a foolishly courageous way. She had put aside her own safety in order to help another human being, and had suffered the consequences. Cupping her shoulders, he gave her a rough shake; the fragility of her shoulder bones under his touch surprised him, and he dropped his hands immediately. ‘You meddle in matters that don’t concern you.’ Although his voice remained low, she caught the warning.
‘What would you have me do, my lord? Sit back and watch that old man punished, all for want of a morsel of food? If I am there, watching, then it concerns me.’ Unable to bear the merciless sparkle of his regard any more, she lowered her head to stare at the ground.
‘And that’s where you should have stayed. Watching.’ Faced with the rounded crown of her hat, Bastien struggled to comprehend her motives. He stared down at her, frustrated, wondering at the secrets that danced in her head. ‘You’re in a tricky enough predicament as it is. Why make it worse?’
She couldn’t tell him. If the House of York knew the identity of her father, then they would know how important he was to them. He was close to King Henry, as was she, and that would put a price on his head, for sure. She had to throw Bastien off the scent, distract him, somehow.
Alice jerked her head up. ‘And it was you who put me in this predicament, my lord! You could have let me go in the forest. You could let me go now.’
Aye, he could have. But there was something about this maid that made him want to keep her by his side, something about her enigmatic, puzzling nature that made him hesitant to release her. He told himself it wasn’t because of those wide cornflower blue eyes, or the sweet curve of her cheek as she turned her head from him, because he wasn’t affected by such things. Certainly, he took his pleasures as readily as the next man, but on an impersonal level only—no involvement, no responsibility. It suited him that way.
‘And if I let you go now, you would carry on following us, until you’re spotted once more,’ he replied. ‘And it might not be me who finds you next time.’
‘Are you telling me I should be
He grinned, briefly, the lopsided twist to his mouth lending him a boyish expression. ‘Other men might not have treated you as well, once they knew your true identity.’
‘You think you have treated me well? Why, the way you’ve hauled me about—!’
‘Is nothing, compared to what other men might do,’ he warned her.
‘Come, let us go back, and sleep. And remember, don’t try anything stupid again. I’ll be watching you.’
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