Page 14 of A Knight’s Vengeance

He lowered his hand and gestured to the dirt-smudged mantle. “My shirt is cleaner than your garments. Take the cloth.”

She shook her head. “I do not want your pity.”

He believed her. Hatred sparked in the air between them like invisible lighting. As grunts and mutters echoed from the opposite end of the passage, and the two guards hauled Mildred forward, he shoved the linen at Elizabeth. “Tend to the wound, or I shall do it for you.”

She looked at him, hard, then snatched up the cloth. She wiped her face. The linen stained crimson.

Mildred shrieked. “Oh, milady. You are wounded.”

“’Tis only a scratch,” Elizabeth called back.

Geoffrey watched, unable to tear his gaze away, as with stiff movements, she pulled back the mantle’s hood. She eased her hair free. Lustrous as black silk, it tumbled over her shoulders and fell to her waist in a riot of curls.

He caught the scent of flowers. Desire thickened his loins.

Curse her!

He turned away, angered by the appalling weakness of his flesh. “We shall tend your injury later. Dominic, bring her.”

“I go nowhere with you.”

Geoffrey halted. He had anticipated a struggle, but not a refusal spoken without the slightest tremor. He spun on his heel and faced her. She swallowed and, while she held his gaze, she clasped her hands together.

So she was afraid of him, after all.

“You will come.” He growled. “Now.”

“My father’s servants are loyal. They will not allow you to take me from this keep against my will.”

“Indeed?” Geoffrey chuckled. “’Tis astonishing what a few bits of silver can accomplish when placed in the right hands.”

“Bribery!”

Her indignant cry sent satisfaction tingling through him. He resisted the urge to taunt her more. Later, he would have all the time he wished to toy with her. He looked at his men, drew a breath to give the order to move out.

Her laughter stopped him. “Are you not aware we were forewarned of your arrival? By now, the captain of the guard and all the men-at-arms will know of your intrusion.” She smoothed her mantle with casual disdain. “You are probably surrounded.”

Geoffrey frowned. Did she speak true?

Then he remembered the boy. “You cling to foolish hope.”

Her irritating smile did not waver. “I do not think so, Lord de Lanceau.”

Her mocking use of his proper title scratched down his back like claws. “If you refer to the boy, Viscon captured him on his way back from your chamber. The lad will not be warning anyone of our presence here.”

Her smile vanished. Desperation shimmered beneath her lashes. Her pulse beat hard against her throat’s milky skin. “What have you done to Jeremy? Did you… kill him?” Revulsion darkened her voice.

Geoffrey’s gut tightened. At last, he had found leverage to make her obey. As long as she believed him capable of such a deed, she might comply. For that reason, he did not answer her.

“You killed a defenseless child?”

He shuddered inside and forced the words through his lips. “Killing is a consequence of war, is it not?”

“How could you? Jeremy was only eleven years old.”

Before Geoffrey could step away, her right arm moved. Her fist flew toward his face.

He trapped her hand in mid-air. The smack of skin against skin echoed like a thunderclap.