Samantha James by My Lord Conqueror

frame garbed in dark wool. Alana instinctively stepped back as he stepped within.
    He wasted no time looking her up and down. “Ah, you are awake and just in time, too.” His tone was as hearty as his smile—and just as false. “Why, I began to think you intended to laze abed throughout the day.”
    Alana was just about to let loose a scathing retort when he stepped aside. A tall, lanky youth followed him in, the one she had seen yesterday who resembled Merrick so strikingly—his nephew, Simon. Folding her hands before her, she watched as the lad crossed the floor to place a tray of food atop the table. Though she smiled faintly at him as he passed, he paid her no heed.
    When the boy had gone, Merrick gestured to the tray. “I thought you might be hungry, Saxon.”
    Alana hesitated. There was a generous hunk of bread on the tray, the aroma of which made her mouth water. In addition, there was a small wedge of cheese. Sharp pangs of hunger knotted her belly, reminding her that she’d had very little to eat in the lastday. Sybil had passed her a hunk of mutton last eve, but she’d been so nervous she could eat but a small portion, and instead had fed it to the mongrels who roamed the hall.
    But she eyed Merrick warily, for she could think of no earthly reason why he should think of her needs…or perhaps she had found the reason after all.
    “You are right, Norman. I am hungry. But I cannot help but wonder what I must give in return for this meal.”
    His eyes flickered, as if she had caught him off guard. But then he smiled, that dangerous smile she was coming to know far too well. “Mayhap a better question would be this, Saxon…what would you give?”
    His gaze fell to her breasts. Alana resisted the urge to cover her breasts with her hands, for she knew the thinness of her bliaud hid little of her shape. Her face flamed even as her spine stiffened.
    He laughed. “A pity, Saxon, for I see the prospect distresses you.”
    “Distress?” Her chin tipped high while her blow struck low. “Make no mistake, Norman. ’Tis disgust and naught else!”
    His smile withered. For just an instant, his expression tightened in displeasure. Yet when he spoke his tone was oh-so-pleasant. “I can see the night has only sharpened your tongue. Mayhap your mood would be far more agreeable were you to break your fast.”
    Her gaze had shifted to the tray. She was notaware that he noted very keenly the longing in her eyes she could not quite hide.
    He gently grasped her elbow and pulled her forward. Tearing off a hunk of bread and slicing a wedge of cheese with his dagger, he set it on a small wooden trencher and placed it directly before her. “Eat,” he said gruffly. “I am not such a brute as you think that I would seize you while you avail yourself of the sustenance you need so sorely.”
    Alana flushed. Though always slender, she had never been quite so thin as she was now. She sat on the chair he pushed over for her. Placing her fingertips on the edge of the trencher, she cast a tentative glance at him from beneath her lashes.
    “There is more than enough for both of us,” she murmured. “I would share it—”
    He shook his head. “There is no need. Eat your fill and think no more of it.”
    His tone was brusque, yet not so very unkind. Still, she was vastly relieved when he turned his back on her and moved to replenish the fire. Chewing on a doughy crust of bread, she watched him as he retreated across the chamber. Light flooded in as he threw the shutters wide. He remained there, his back to her, and eventually she forgot him entirely as she assuaged her hunger.
    He approached just as she finished. Flustered to find him so near, Alana scooted the trencher back onto the tray and arose. To her surprise, Merrick extended a hand for it.
    “I will take it back to the kitchens,” shesaid quickly. “No doubt they have need of me—”
    But once again he shook his head. “You may help serve the evening meal. For now, you