has come.”
“No,” Mary whispered. Heat unfurled like a stream of smoke in her frozen body.
“Yes,” he murmured seductively.
“But…” Her mind was dazed, making coherent thought difficult. “I thought you were going to send spies to Liddel to learn whether I am telling you the truth or not! Surely that takes time!”
“Obviously if you are of any import, you will tell me before I ruin your worth to another man.”
Her heart pounded. Their gazes remained fixed, the one upon the other. Mary was finding it difficult to breathe, tothink. She only knew that she could not, must not, tell him who she was.
“My patience is at an end. If you are who you say you are, after this night you will be my mistress,” Stephen said flatly.
Silence fell like the blow of a sword between them. Mary was white. She gripped her hands together tightly, desperately trying to sort out the dilemma he had put her in. If she continued to insist that she was Mairi Sinclair, he would take her to his bed—very shortly. Images of him naked and aroused filled her, and she wasn’t sure if she felt anticipation or dismay. But she could not reveal her true identity to him, she could not. She spoke through dry, stiff lips. “I am Mairi Sinclair.”
His response was immediate. “My chamber is the first one upstairs. Go and await my pleasure there.”
Her jaw clenched. Her breasts heaved. She did not move, nor did she remove her gaze from his.
“Go and await my pleasure there,” he commanded again, low.
Their gazes clashed, held, locked. It occurred to Mary that, faced with her doom, she was crazy to war with this man. She could not win. She should give in, surrender as he had insisted she do, reveal herself to him. Hazy, passionate images flooded her mind, of an amorous couple, twisting and entwined. Of her and Stephen de Warenne … She could
not
betray and beggar her father, her King, whom she loved and worshiped more than anyone.
Mary squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and slowly she turned her back on him.
For an instant Stephen did not move, watching her as she walked to the twisting spiral staircase. Then he snapped his fingers, pointing. One of his men-at-arms materialized from across the hall, to escort Mary to his chamber. Both brothers watched her go, the hall eerily silent.
Then someone guffawed. Laughter followed and conversation resumed. One of the knights slapped a maid sharply on her rump as she refilled his wine, causing her to squeal and jump and spill some from the flagon. Dice rolled, bets were wagered.
Brand turned to Stephen with a raised brow. “What is this? An unwilling maid?” He was droll. “Is that why she fascinates you so? My oldest brother does not lust, he merely takes when moved to do so.”
Stephen walked to the dais, climbed it, and sat down at the table. The chamberlain materialized at his elbow with a vessel of red wine from Burgundy. Stephen nodded to him and he poured his lord a drink. “She is an uncanny woman, Brand, and it is her deception which intrigues me.”
Brand slid into the chair beside him. “Indeed?” He was skeptical. “ ’Tis not her exquisite face?”
Stephen was exasperated. “So I am human after all. What difference does it make? She will reveal herself this eve, and I will not have to make good my threat.”
“If she is as you suspect, a lady of some worth,” Brand said, “she will bend before the deed is done. No lady will give away her virginity for naught.”
“Yes,” Stephen said as a maid came and laid trenchers of meats, pasties, and cheeses on the table. “Bring food and wine to the guest who waits in my chamber,” he said to the blushing girl.
“And will you spare her your attentions even then?” Brand asked with cool doubt.
“I will have to, will I not?” His expression was hard, his gaze unfathomable. She
would
bend, revealing herself to him as some lady of importance—and he would send her on her merry way, although perhaps he
“No,” Mary whispered. Heat unfurled like a stream of smoke in her frozen body.
“Yes,” he murmured seductively.
“But…” Her mind was dazed, making coherent thought difficult. “I thought you were going to send spies to Liddel to learn whether I am telling you the truth or not! Surely that takes time!”
“Obviously if you are of any import, you will tell me before I ruin your worth to another man.”
Her heart pounded. Their gazes remained fixed, the one upon the other. Mary was finding it difficult to breathe, tothink. She only knew that she could not, must not, tell him who she was.
“My patience is at an end. If you are who you say you are, after this night you will be my mistress,” Stephen said flatly.
Silence fell like the blow of a sword between them. Mary was white. She gripped her hands together tightly, desperately trying to sort out the dilemma he had put her in. If she continued to insist that she was Mairi Sinclair, he would take her to his bed—very shortly. Images of him naked and aroused filled her, and she wasn’t sure if she felt anticipation or dismay. But she could not reveal her true identity to him, she could not. She spoke through dry, stiff lips. “I am Mairi Sinclair.”
His response was immediate. “My chamber is the first one upstairs. Go and await my pleasure there.”
Her jaw clenched. Her breasts heaved. She did not move, nor did she remove her gaze from his.
“Go and await my pleasure there,” he commanded again, low.
Their gazes clashed, held, locked. It occurred to Mary that, faced with her doom, she was crazy to war with this man. She could not win. She should give in, surrender as he had insisted she do, reveal herself to him. Hazy, passionate images flooded her mind, of an amorous couple, twisting and entwined. Of her and Stephen de Warenne … She could
not
betray and beggar her father, her King, whom she loved and worshiped more than anyone.
Mary squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and slowly she turned her back on him.
For an instant Stephen did not move, watching her as she walked to the twisting spiral staircase. Then he snapped his fingers, pointing. One of his men-at-arms materialized from across the hall, to escort Mary to his chamber. Both brothers watched her go, the hall eerily silent.
Then someone guffawed. Laughter followed and conversation resumed. One of the knights slapped a maid sharply on her rump as she refilled his wine, causing her to squeal and jump and spill some from the flagon. Dice rolled, bets were wagered.
Brand turned to Stephen with a raised brow. “What is this? An unwilling maid?” He was droll. “Is that why she fascinates you so? My oldest brother does not lust, he merely takes when moved to do so.”
Stephen walked to the dais, climbed it, and sat down at the table. The chamberlain materialized at his elbow with a vessel of red wine from Burgundy. Stephen nodded to him and he poured his lord a drink. “She is an uncanny woman, Brand, and it is her deception which intrigues me.”
Brand slid into the chair beside him. “Indeed?” He was skeptical. “ ’Tis not her exquisite face?”
Stephen was exasperated. “So I am human after all. What difference does it make? She will reveal herself this eve, and I will not have to make good my threat.”
“If she is as you suspect, a lady of some worth,” Brand said, “she will bend before the deed is done. No lady will give away her virginity for naught.”
“Yes,” Stephen said as a maid came and laid trenchers of meats, pasties, and cheeses on the table. “Bring food and wine to the guest who waits in my chamber,” he said to the blushing girl.
“And will you spare her your attentions even then?” Brand asked with cool doubt.
“I will have to, will I not?” His expression was hard, his gaze unfathomable. She
would
bend, revealing herself to him as some lady of importance—and he would send her on her merry way, although perhaps he
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