His Enemy's Daughter by Terri Brisbin Page A

Unwilling to dwell on that small measure of courtesy granted to a woman he came here prepared to hate, he repeated his demand.
    â€˜Where did he hide the rolls? Or did you accomplish the deed?’
    The silence went on for several minutes with no sign of an answer in the offing from her. Soren used his leverage then.
    â€˜You put their lives in danger, lady, with your refusals. How many more must die because of you?’
    Her indrawn breath told him of his success in piercing the lady’s apparent lack of concern.
    â€˜You would kill them for something not in their control?’
    â€˜If it will gain me that which I need, aye,’ he said, using her inability to see in this battle of wills. Clearly, she could not hear his lack of resolve and now had no visual cues to use to decide whether he bluffed or not.Memories of his own days spent blinded by his injury threatened, but he gathered his control and prevented them from flaring.
    â€˜Tell me the names of those who died and I will take you to that which you demand.’
    He laughed aloud at her attempt to bargain with him. A bit of spirit yet remained within the woman and it pleased him somehow. He preferred to face a strong enemy, to sharpen and hone his skills against a worthy adversary, than against a frightened woman with nothing to risk or lose. Soren also knew the value of timing in a battle, and this was nothing less, so he turned without another word and left. Let her sit and worry over his choice for a bit.
    He strode down the stairs, having a care for the steepness of the steps. His eye could not discern the depth of something, especially a thing cloaked in the shadows, well enough yet, so he braced his hand on the wall as he moved downwards to the landing. Such a limitation served as a constant reminder of all he’d lost with Durward’s blow and served to strengthen his resolve to overcome it as well. He’d learnt to adjust the aim of his bow quickly to sharpen the accuracy of his arrows’ flight. But, simple things like staircases thwarted his attempts to appear as he once was—confident, accomplished and skilled. Guermont, who now stood as his second-in-command here at Alston, met him at the bottom.
    â€˜This encounter would seem better than your last one with the lady,’ Guermont said, walking at his side through the hall to the door that led out to the yard. ‘The guards have reported no outbursts from her since the first one.’
    â€˜Has she asked to leave her chambers? Have her maids asked?’ Soren asked.
    Guermont oversaw everything and everyone within the keep for Soren, so that he could see to the defences and the outlying buildings and lands. Soren had toiled alongside his men, the villeins of Alston and the prisoners he’d taken during his attack. Once the entire manor was under control and rebuilt to withstand attacks from the rebels who yet gathered to fight off the rule of King William, he would have time to better organise those who served him.
    Though he’d initially planned to tear the place apart, plank by plank, stone by stone, he would have to wait on that, for the rebels were active once more in the north of England. Soren and his troops would be pivotal in controlling this area and they needed Alston, for now, as their base. Once the area was secured, Soren would be able to destroy the home of Durward and begin anew with his own plans.
    â€˜Nothing. Her maids remain at her side every moment, leaving rarely and never allowing her to be alone in her chambers. If one runs some errand, the other remains there.’
    â€˜Send to me if she asks to leave her room, Guermont,’ Soren ordered, stopping a few paces outside the keep. ‘Keep her maids with her for now.’
    â€˜Is she a prisoner, then?’ Guermont asked.
    â€˜Nay, not a prisoner. All she has to do is ask and she has my permission to leave that room. But, she must ask it of me.’ Soren nodded and