At The Warrior's Mercy. Denise Lynn
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Название: At The Warrior's Mercy
Автор: Denise Lynn
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Сказки
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781474053488
isbn:
Simon frowned, then asked, ‘The short time?’
‘King David ordered me to take Warehaven and marry the heiress. He said nothing about living there with her. Once the island is under my control it shouldn’t take long to install enough of my men to keep order, marry the woman and get her with child.’
‘And then what? You’ll just leave?’
Gregor shrugged. ‘I can either take up residence at the shipyard on Warehaven, or at the one back home. It doesn’t matter to me.’
‘Are you sure it will be that easy?’
Easy? No, he wasn’t sure, but it was the only plan he could devise. ‘The only thing I am sure about is that the night is wasting. You need to gather the men back at camp and give them the order to keep their mouths closed. The first one who so much as whispers a word about our mission will find himself lacking a tongue.’
Simon rose. ‘And you?’
‘Need to devise some lie to cover why I bolted upon learning her name.’
After his man left the inn, Gregor talked the owner into supplying him with some lukewarm stew, bread, cheese and a pitcher of water for a price. He then headed back up to the bedchamber with the food.
He pushed against the door with his shoulder, only to find it blocked by something weighty from the other side. Apparently she’d already found reason to mistrust him and had used the bench, since it was the only thing in the chamber with any weight besides the bed to keep him from entering.
Setting down the food, he shoved the door open, hearing the sound of wooden legs scraping against wood floor. Once the opening was wide enough, he slipped through, moved the bench back to its original spot alongside the wall, retrieved the food and came back into the chamber.
Gregor placed the food on the bench and then secured the door. He turned to glance at the woman on the bed. She must have been exhausted, because she still slept even after he’d made so much noise getting into the chamber.
He walked further into the room. She’d been busy during his absence. Her wet gown was a lump on the floor near the brazier and he noticed a hastily made pouch on the small table near the bed that hadn’t been there before.
Reaching out, he touched the chemise she’d hung over the bedpost nearest the brazier. He removed the now dry garment, noting the square hole cut from the hem, folded it and placed it on the foot of the bed. Retrieving his still-damp cloak from a peg by the door, he hung that from the bedpost. She would need something to keep her warm and dry during their journey over the next two or three days and his cloak would have to do.
Warehaven’s maiden mumbled something he could barely make out. A step brought him to the side of the bed. She still slept, but her shivers would soon have her awake. He leaned over her, reaching across to pull the free side of the covers she slept upon over to cover her body.
She turned in her sleep. The warmth of her breath brushed lightly across his cheek, sending a tremor of nearly forgotten longing racing down his spine. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and hold her close until he chased the cold away.
Gregor tucked the edge of the cover beneath her shoulder and quickly stepped away, silently cursing his stupidity. What was he thinking? Had one missed night of sleep left him so dull-witted that he believed things best left alone could come true on a whim? What made him think just because this woman was interested that she would allow him such liberties?
He needed to face the facts. He was never going to have the marriage or future he’d long desired. Especially not with Warehaven’s heiress. Once all was said and done, not only would she never permit him such closeness, he’d be surprised if she sought anything other than his death.
While he didn’t know her well, he was fairly certain that she would devise some slow and painful way to send him to his grave.
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