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“No,” Egan replied, much too swiftly. “It will be better for us both if everyone believes you are my mistress.”
Deeply insulted, Oriana drew back slightly. “It matters not at all what others may assume, but I’ll never be your mistress, Egan. I absolutely refuse that high honor.”
Egan yanked his hand from hers and rose to his feet. A disdainful sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth. “With my father’s body barely cold, do you actually believe I’d seek to lose myself in you?”
He looked thoroughly disgusted with her, but Oriana rose gracefully to face him. “Perhaps not tonight nor on the morrow, but the time may soon come when the prospect will hold more appeal, and then I’ll have to take my leave. You must agree to that condition now.”
Egan’s scowl deepened. “And must I again remind you not to give me orders? You’re the one who can see the future, but to crave your affection I would have to forget that I was off chasing you while my father lay dying. That day will never arrive, but perhaps you would rather I pay you now than wait for me to be overcome with lust?”
Oriana was as offended by the reference to pay as she was to that of lust, and shook her head. “I didn’t ask to be paid for my help, Egan. I asked only that you slay Duncan.”
Egan waved her off. “Do not speak his name again. Now come to bed.”
Oriana’s eyes widened as he reached for his belt. “Surely you do not intend to sleep nude.”
“We’re no longer traveling, Oriana. We’re home, and the king may sleep in whatever manner he chooses. Sleep in your gown if you must. Tomorrow I’ll have Ula’s seamstresses begin fashioning your new wardrobe. The king’s mistress ought to own far finer garments than you possess. Your worn and patched rags are an embarrassment.”
“My gowns are not rags!” Oriana contradicted through clenched teeth. She would not argue that her garments were comfortably worn, but none could rightfully be described as ragged.
Egan shot her a dark glance before he spit on his fingers and snuffed the candles. The last embers of the fire lent his finely sculpted profile a soft glow. “Rags,” he repeated scornfully. “You’ll burn the lot as soon as the new gowns are ready.”
“No. I think not,” Oriana replied proudly. “I’ll have a long walk home, and wouldn’t want the dust of the trail to ruin the fine gowns you’ve so thoughtfully provided.”
Egan sat down to remove his shoes, then stood to shuck off his tight-fitting trousers. He slipped beneath the furs and stretched out. “You’ll take Brute with you and ride.”
Oriana had no affection for the big brown horse, and briefly considered refusing him, but then decided she could sell him in the first village she entered. She was briefly cheered by that prospect, but it failed to ease her fear of sharing Egan’s inviting fur-heaped bed.
The sense of evil in his home gave her chills, but as she stood stiffly at the foot of the handsome man’s bed, she was at last struck by the threat he posed to her emotions. Recoiling at that dizzying truth, she hastened toward the chair to take in the lingering warmth of the hearth while she considered the great lack of wisdom in their latest bargain.
Her reluctance elicited a low, taunting laugh from Egan as Oriana’s lithe presence began to ignite the very passion he had sworn she would never arouse.
Chapter Five
Early the next morning, Ula burst into Egan’s chamber without bothering to knock. She swept across the threshold with the force of a fierce storm off the sea and began to swear in a vicious hiss. “Get off the bed, you lazy slut. Egan demands that you be dressed in our softest wools and finest linens, but I refuse to grant you even a frayed handkerchief of my own.”
Abruptly awakened by the harsh clang of the heavy door’s iron handle against the stone wall, Oriana was as shocked to find herself in Egan’s wide bed as she was by Ula’s rude greeting. Because she would never have sought the comfort of his muscular arms on her own, she was certain he must have plucked her from the chair after she had fallen into an exhausted slumber. That he would so blatantly disregard her wishes was annoying in the extreme, but for the moment, her uninvited visitor presented a far more vexing problem.
Striving to appear dazed, Oriana peaked through her tousled curls for a glimpse of the petite woman she assumed must be Ula. The diminutive beauty’s furious scowl narrowed her dark eyes, but scarcely diminished her exotic appeal. That in her youth she could have charmed Egan’s father, or any man, was easy to imagine.
Oriana had failed to give Egan’s stepmother any thought, and she now required a moment to decide upon her best course of action. One option was to act so docile that Ula would dismiss her as being of little consequence. She and her mother had been so adept at escaping notice, they could vanish into a crowd at will. Since her mother’s departure, Oriana had refined that art, and she could now walk through a small village without arousing a ripple of curiosity.
“Are you mute as well as stupid?” Ula chided before taking up a poker to jab angrily at the thick log burning brightly on the hearth. After creating a brilliant shower of sparks, she dropped the iron implement with a noisy clatter.
Thinking Egan must have added fresh wood before leaving his chamber, Oriana accepted the gesture as a sign of concern for her comfort. He was a perplexing man, but not one who would be drawn to a woman lacking in spirit. With that thought in mind, she quickly shoved aside the fur robes and rose to face Ula.
“If anyone is stupid here, it is you, madam,” Oriana responded with clear distaste as she proudly drew herself up to a regal height. She knew from experience that she possessed a disconcerting gaze and deliberately turned the full force of its brilliance upon Ula.
“I had been led to believe that you would be in deep mourning,” Oriana continued with a dismissive sweep of Ula’s bright green gown and flowing black hair, “but obviously I was misinformed.”
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Ula had expected some silly wench Egan had snatched from the roadside, not this defiant flame-haired creature who would be impossible to either control or banish. The shock gave her a moment’s pause, but she quickly recovered.
“I will grieve for my dear Cadell forever,” she breathed out, “but I will never welcome his son’s whore.”
“It is now Egan’s home,” Oriana reminded her with a taunting smile, “and you may swiftly find that you are the one who is unwelcome here.”
“How dare you?” Ula shrieked, and she lunged to claw Oriana with a vicious swipe.
