both hands, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“You dare retreat after everything I went through to find the man who murdered your sire?”
“This proves nothing,” she hissed. “Tis likely a Saxon head disguised as a Dane.”
“I told you before,” he said through clenched teeth. “Do not insult me.”
“I speak only truth—if you are so easily offended by it…”
“Open it.”
“No.” She folded her arms over her center.
“Now.”
She fingered the top of the bag then peeked inside. She stumbled back from the table. “My God.” She glared at him. “You killed one of your own just to prove your innocence? To earn the right to bed me?”
Konal came at her, but she darted under his arm, running to the opposite side of the table. They stared each other down. He pretended to lunge and she flinched. “You make this harder than it needs to be. I prefer a willing partner in my bed.”
“I hear sheep are overly submissive, milord. Perhaps I can fetch one from the shearing shed for you.”
“Someday you’re going to have to make a choice, Silvia.”
She frowned. “I already have.”
“The wrong one.”
She shook her head. “I have faith in my ability to make the right decisions. My father taught me well.”
He believed her. The wench undeniably had proven herself quick witted and determined. If she’d only surrender, he’d be kind. Giving pleasure almost satisfied him as much as receiving it. He stared at her throat. The idea of showering her with kisses whilst she squirmed underneath the weight of his body pleased him.
Circling the table, he caught her by the wrist. He yanked her so hard toward the stairs she stumbled.
“Leave me alone.”
He didn’t want to pity her, but something about her sad eyes stopped him. “We made a bargain.”
“Under duress.”
“No one forced you to challenge me.”
“No?” She stared up at him as if he’d lost his mind. “How can a man like you understand anything? I’d rather die than bed you.” She dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Nothing you say or do will change my mind.”
He opened then closed his mouth. Unknown forces moved inside him. He let go of her wrist, gripping her by the shoulders, instead. Everything she said cut through him like a dull blade leaving his insides mangled. “Curse you, woman.” He gave her a rough shake.
Looking away, she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “What sort of man are you?”
The question caught him off guard. Did he even know the answer? The sort who takes what he wants. At least before he left Norway. Now … he sighed. Releasing her, he moved two stairs above her. “Get off your knees.”
Silvia slowly repositioned herself. She now sat on the lowest step with her back toward him. Neither spoke or moved for several moments.
“This can’t go on forever,” he said.
“I know.”
“You belong to me.”
“I belong to God.”
“Your god is a coward.”
She exhaled loudly. “Why keep me? I’ll never obey you.” She turned sideways, leaning against the wall.
Konal wrestled to keep his feelings under control. “If you refuse to submit, I’ll beat you senseless. Remember what I told you before? Don’t move unless I give you permission. Don’t think without my approval. Nothing has changed,” he growled. “Be grateful for what patience I’ve shown you.”
“Grateful?” She pushed a loose strand of hair aside. “For what? The thrashing? Stolen kisses. Or the humiliation I suffered in front of Prince Ivarr and your kinsman?” She raised her chin.
He slapped his hands on his thighs. “Be silent.”
“I hate you.”
Did she know the destructive power of hate? Realize how quickly it would consume her soul? “I don’t think you do.” Leaning forward, he grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. Perhaps she required a gentler approach.
“Don’t.” She jerked away, turning so she could see him.
“Silvia—” He squeezed her cheeks between
“You dare retreat after everything I went through to find the man who murdered your sire?”
“This proves nothing,” she hissed. “Tis likely a Saxon head disguised as a Dane.”
“I told you before,” he said through clenched teeth. “Do not insult me.”
“I speak only truth—if you are so easily offended by it…”
“Open it.”
“No.” She folded her arms over her center.
“Now.”
She fingered the top of the bag then peeked inside. She stumbled back from the table. “My God.” She glared at him. “You killed one of your own just to prove your innocence? To earn the right to bed me?”
Konal came at her, but she darted under his arm, running to the opposite side of the table. They stared each other down. He pretended to lunge and she flinched. “You make this harder than it needs to be. I prefer a willing partner in my bed.”
“I hear sheep are overly submissive, milord. Perhaps I can fetch one from the shearing shed for you.”
“Someday you’re going to have to make a choice, Silvia.”
She frowned. “I already have.”
“The wrong one.”
She shook her head. “I have faith in my ability to make the right decisions. My father taught me well.”
He believed her. The wench undeniably had proven herself quick witted and determined. If she’d only surrender, he’d be kind. Giving pleasure almost satisfied him as much as receiving it. He stared at her throat. The idea of showering her with kisses whilst she squirmed underneath the weight of his body pleased him.
Circling the table, he caught her by the wrist. He yanked her so hard toward the stairs she stumbled.
“Leave me alone.”
He didn’t want to pity her, but something about her sad eyes stopped him. “We made a bargain.”
“Under duress.”
“No one forced you to challenge me.”
“No?” She stared up at him as if he’d lost his mind. “How can a man like you understand anything? I’d rather die than bed you.” She dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Nothing you say or do will change my mind.”
He opened then closed his mouth. Unknown forces moved inside him. He let go of her wrist, gripping her by the shoulders, instead. Everything she said cut through him like a dull blade leaving his insides mangled. “Curse you, woman.” He gave her a rough shake.
Looking away, she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “What sort of man are you?”
The question caught him off guard. Did he even know the answer? The sort who takes what he wants. At least before he left Norway. Now … he sighed. Releasing her, he moved two stairs above her. “Get off your knees.”
Silvia slowly repositioned herself. She now sat on the lowest step with her back toward him. Neither spoke or moved for several moments.
“This can’t go on forever,” he said.
“I know.”
“You belong to me.”
“I belong to God.”
“Your god is a coward.”
She exhaled loudly. “Why keep me? I’ll never obey you.” She turned sideways, leaning against the wall.
Konal wrestled to keep his feelings under control. “If you refuse to submit, I’ll beat you senseless. Remember what I told you before? Don’t move unless I give you permission. Don’t think without my approval. Nothing has changed,” he growled. “Be grateful for what patience I’ve shown you.”
“Grateful?” She pushed a loose strand of hair aside. “For what? The thrashing? Stolen kisses. Or the humiliation I suffered in front of Prince Ivarr and your kinsman?” She raised her chin.
He slapped his hands on his thighs. “Be silent.”
“I hate you.”
Did she know the destructive power of hate? Realize how quickly it would consume her soul? “I don’t think you do.” Leaning forward, he grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. Perhaps she required a gentler approach.
“Don’t.” She jerked away, turning so she could see him.
“Silvia—” He squeezed her cheeks between
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