Page 29 of A Knight’s Vengeance

He shook his head, and his silky hair slid over his shoulders. “Elena has nursed the sick and aged for years and tended you well. She told me you did not stir once.” His smile turned crooked. “If I had been so inclined to undress you, damsel, you would have awakened. And you would remember the experience.”

“Why, you lewd, vile⁠—”

The bed ropes creaked. He leaned toward her. Closer. Closer. Blue flecks darkened his irises, yet that was not half as unsettling as the blackness of his pupils. Or the intoxicating, soapy tang that surrounded him.

He paused, his face a mere hand’s span from hers. “Beware your insults, my dear lady.” His words rubbed over her nerves like gritty sand. “Remember, your fate lies in my grasp.”

Did he expect her to cower like a terrified girl? In her mind, Elizabeth condemned him to eternal torment in Purgatory. “I do not fear you, and do not call me your lady.”

“Why not? You are my prisoner. You are secured like a dove in a stone cage. You are indeed my chattel.”

“Chattel?”

“As lord of Branton Keep, I command all who live within these walls, including you. My blood is as noble as yours, milady. I will speak to you with respect, and, in turn, you will address me with the honor I am due.”

Stunned laughter bubbled up inside her. Honor? He was a thief, a rogue, and a traitor’s son. “Never.”

“Tsk, tsk. You will not win my favor with that answer.”

Her breath exploded from her lungs. “Your favor? You arrogant, thick headed⁠—”

He lunged. Before she could scoot sideways, he caught her chin. She shook her head, tried to jerk free, but he pulled her forward until their noses almost touched.

His glittering gaze bored into hers. Where his fingertips touched, her skin tingled. Burned.

Her pulse thundered.

Awareness hummed. He was her avowed enemy, but also a man. A bold, handsome, determined man.

Why had she taunted him?

His eyes lightened with the barest smile. “Now, I ask you again. Will you show me due courtesy?”

By sheer willpower, she said, “Nay.”

“I can make you say ‘my lord’.”

His thumb traced her jawline. Oh, God, that one, gentle touch was enough. Her skin throbbed. Her body began to wilt like a parched flower, like a besotted maiden’s in the chivalric tales. His touch devastated like a lover’s kiss.

Nay, his kiss would shatter her.

He seemed to sense her thoughts, for he looked at her mouth. He stared as though her lips were a feast, and he was starved.

She fisted her hands into the bedding. “Release me.”

“Why? You have not done as I bade.” His thumb paused, then started to caress her neck with light strokes.

“Stop.”

“Say ‘my lord.’ Two simple words. Then, I will cease this sweet torture.”

“You cannot sway me.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed for fortitude. “You are knave, a rogue, a criminal. I will never show you the respect that—Ohhh!”

His chuckle rumbled like a cat’s purr. “Aye?”

A moan burned for release. Would she have to yield?

Three knocks sounded on the door before it creaked open.