The Warrior's Winter Bride. Denise Lynn

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      She crumpled the slipper in her hand and sighed. ‘What do you wish to know?’

      He stared back up at the ceiling. ‘I should know something about you since you will soon be my wife.’

      If he did anything that foolish, he would soon learn to rue the day he forced her into a marriage. However, between the lingering effect of the opium and the paleness of his face, arguing with him now would be pointless. If she read his features correctly, the drooping eyelids and downturned mouth signalled he would soon fall back to sleep.

      To humour him in the meantime, she said, ‘I have an older brother, a younger sister, a mother and no father.’

      ‘And again you assume he is dead. Do you dislike your father so much that you secretly hope the worst?’

      Isabella gasped at his insinuation that she would wish such foulness for her father. ‘I love my parents dearly.’

      ‘Love?’ He shook his head. ‘Of what use is love? I would think they’d rather have your respect and obedience.’

      At this moment, he was most likely correct. Had she paid heed to her parents’ warnings, she wouldn’t be on this ship heading to Dunstan.

      Although she found it interesting that he had such a lowly opinion of love. ‘Did you not care for your parents?’

      ‘I did not know my mother, she died when I was a babe. And my father did his duty by me.’

      ‘Did his duty?’

      ‘A roof over my head. Food in my belly and a suitable place to foster once I was old enough to hold a weapon.’

      ‘Oh.’ She felt no pity for the man, but found herself aching for the small boy. Had he had no one to offer him any gentleness? No welcoming arms to chase away the childish nightmares and hurts? She could not fathom such a life. She’d had both a mother and father who’d cared for their children dearly.

      ‘You sound surprised. Did your brother not foster elsewhere?’

      ‘Of course he did.’ But he’d done so with their mother’s family until he gained squire status and then he’d joined Matilda’s court.

      ‘What about you and your sister?’

      ‘No.’ Isabella wrinkled her nose, waiting for what would be disbelief on his part.

      ‘No?’ Dunstan turned his head to look at her. ‘Surely you spent time at Glenforde’s keep?’

      She smoothed out her crushed slipper, brushing the caked mud on to the floor—busy work to keep from returning his gaze. ‘No.’

      ‘You expect me to believe that King Henry’s granddaughter, Empress Matilda’s niece, did not learn how to be a lady at the knee of her future mother-by-marriage?’

      ‘My mother taught me how to be a lady. Regardless of acceptable convention, she would not surrender such a task to a stranger. Besides, I was betrothed to no one, so there was no future mother-by-marriage.’

      He sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the side. ‘Is there something wrong with you?’

      Isabella paused. Since it would be normal for her and Beatrice to have been betrothed at a very young age, of course he would wonder at the reason for such a lack. She should lie and tell him that there was something drastically wrong with her.

      It had to be something that would make him think twice about forcing a marriage between them. Something—gruesome. Some terrible thing that would make him shiver with dread. Perhaps something that would convince him to turn the ship about and return her to her family.

       But what?

      ‘Too late.’ Dunstan leaned forward. ‘It has taken far too long for you to answer.’

      She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin a notch. ‘Perhaps my...condition is so severe I’ve no desire to sicken you with the details.’

      ‘Other than a smart tongue and lack of common sense, there is nothing wrong with you.’

      His smug certainty nipped at her temper. ‘You can’t be sure of that.’

      ‘Actually—’ he rose from the bed and stepped towards her ‘—I can.’

      She held her slipper out like a shield, as if the scrap of fabric and pearls would protect her from his advance. ‘What are you going to do?’

      Dunstan snatched the slipper from her hands, tossed it across the cabin, then slowly circled her. He passed by her side, touching her ear as he kept walking. ‘I know your ears are fine.’

      He brushed a fingertip across her lips as he crossed before her, making her lips tingle. ‘It is obvious you are capable of speech. And I know you can see, so nothing is wrong with your eyes.’

      Isabella silently cursed her own stupidity. He’d accepted her statement as a dare—as a way to intentionally trap her in her own lie.

      He stopped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Isabella fought the urge to shiver beneath his touch.

      Patting her shoulders, he lowered his hands, running them down to her wrists. Leaning over her, he commented softly, ‘And if I am not mistaken, these two arms seem to be normal.’

      He trailed his hands up to caress the back of her neck, asking, ‘I wonder what else needs to be investigated?’

      She tried unsuccessfully to pull away from him. ‘Nothing.’

      ‘No? Then how can I be certain you are whole?’

      Isabella ground her teeth before answering, ‘I am fine. There is nothing wrong with me.’

      ‘Ah.’ With his thumbs still on the back of her neck, he snaked his fingers to encircle her throat and with his fingertips beneath her chin tipped her head back, forcing her to look up at him.

      While the placid expression on his face warned her of no ill-conceived plans to choke the life from her, the gentle, deadly warmth of his hold silently threatened her in a way no brandished sword ever could.

      This hold was more personal than the tip of cold metal against flesh. The heat of his fingers belied the damage he could cause.

      ‘So, you were seeking to lie to me?’

      She stared up at him. He knew full well she’d lied. He had only been mocking her, baiting her, and she’d stepped into his trap with little thought.

      If she kept up this ruse, she knew he would follow through with his examination until she cried off. Unwilling to be humiliated any more than she already was, she whispered, ‘Yes.’

      ‘What?’ He stroked the ridge of her throat. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

      ‘Yes.’ Isabella reached up and grasped his wrist. ‘Yes, I lied.’

      He slid his fingers lower СКАЧАТЬ