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The chapel did not have any function these days though it held the relics from far away centuries. Not a big room, with columns, arches, a nave, and a chancel illuminated by arched windows with diamond glasses.
“Annabel.” He called. She changed into a simple peach high waist dress of gossamer silk that floated around her.
Abruptly she turned to him, her lashes lowering at once. “Oh, Your Grace.” She curtsied.
He rested the bottle on a side table and advanced further into the chapel. “As of this afternoon, I assume we can dispense with the formalities, don’t you think?” The fading early evening light played with her liquid eyes when she deigned to lift them to him.
A rather hard glint came to her expression, erased in a swift blink. “If you say so, my lord.”
Her posture graceful but cold, he wondered what changed since he left her inside the castle upon their arrival from the fields.
“What got into you to ride unchaperoned?” He must have more insight about her intentions, and he would.
“Unchaperoned?” She breathed an airy small laugh. “I hardly conceive a widow needs one.”
“A woman alone through the fields can be dangerous.” He defended. “There are many temporary workers helping with the sowing.” His steward had reported the hiring of at least fifty men, strangers to this area.
She became serious at that. “I see.” She joined her hands in front of her, so proper he could tell it was not natural. “I will be more careful next time.”
Did she always have to test his temper? “I said there will be no next time.”
She lifted her chin in that exasperatingly defiant and arousing way. “And I am not one of your soldiers for you to command!”
He parted his legs, arms crossed over his chest. “But you will answer me what you are doing here.” He glared at her, his patience threadbare.
“I already told you.” Her hands flew to her hips, which made her breasts pull up to his view. “I came to visit Tintagel and since you hold me here as a prisoner, I cannot proceed with my trip.”
His lopsided suspicious smile made her revive the summer he used to smile with spontaneity lightening his fierce features.
“You really expect that after catching you searching my bedroom, being threatened with your knife and seeing my horse stolen I would take you on your word?” Standing there in that so manly posture, she admired his muscled arms through his shirt. Added by his broad shoulders though she should not permit her eyes to wander.
“It is none of my business if you do not believe me.” Did he want to corner her? He was certainly succeeding. She made her answer firm as not to show the tension he caused in her.
“You will have to do better than that.” His deep tone did more than reply to her, it seduced her senses and they wanted to hear it forever.
“Fine.” She said vehement. “I wish to leave here and then you can proceed with your life and I with mine.”
“Oh, and what life would that be, Countess?” He did not disguise his disdain. “A trip to the milliner? Another dress?”
Anger rose unrestrained. “You cannot be this stuffed!”
“Or maybe you will cheat on another soon-to-be ex-paramour.” He disregarded her response, the loathing clear in his low remark.
Her eyes bulged choleric, she tried not to take his bait. But… “Who would be this ‘ex-paramour’?” She defied. “You? Again?” She made herself smile smugly. “How boring to fool the same man twice.” Her words flew like fire arrows. He dared insult her? So dared she.
The tempest in his splendid murky eyes told her she hit the mark. Recomposed in a flash, his face became a mask. “Are you offering?”
A quizzical look came over her. “Offering?”
“You say you are going to cheat me twice; it means we are having a second-“ the pause filled with meaningful intention, “tryst.” His stare pierced her so deep it roiled her insides. “This time I will not offer marriage, needless to say.” The loathing back. “You can be my mistress. It is the only position I will avail to you.”
The man had no limits to his insults! The impetus to slap him was almost a physical pain that made her fist her hands until her fingers ached. She would not lower herself to that and give him the taste of her lack of control. “If you despise me so much, why are you keeping me here?”
She did not realise how it happened, but they stood toe to toe, fulminating each other. She had to bend her head back to keep her eyes on him, the view of him unbalancing her even further.
His expression hardened. “Because I want to know what you are up to here.”
Forcing herself to act casual, she placed her forefinger to her chin, as if uncertain what to retort. “Please, do tell which answer you want apart from the truthful one I have given you more than once.”
