Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [6]
His gaze narrowed on her face. “Coward?”
She ignored the menace in his tone. “Coward. Isn’t it cowardly to hit a woman who cannot defend herself?”
“I have bruises on my face to prove you wrong.”
“Good. You should expect nothing better. You ride up and let me think you’re one of those savages who killed—”
“You gave me no chance to speak before you struck out at me.” He got down from his horse and moved toward her. “Just as you’re striking at me now with your words.” He should have looked less dangerous off the steed, but he did not. He towered over her, and she had the same sensation of power and boundless authority as at their first meeting. He glared down at her. “Be silent. I’m weary unto death, and Kadar has made sure my temper is raw.”
She glared back at him. “Are you going to hit me again?”
“Tempting,” he murmured. “By the saints, it’s tempting.”
Kadar interjected quickly, “He doesn’t mean it. Come, Ware, we must get her to Dundragon. She’s weak and exhausted.”
“Weak?” His gaze raked her defiant stance. “I think she’s stronger than you claim.”
“I’m not going to this Dundragon.” She shifted her basket and stepped to one side to go around him. “So you need not argue as to who is to take me.”
“And where are you going?”
“Kadar said there was a village.”
“Too far.”
She didn’t answer as she started away from them.
“Ware,” Kadar said.
“I know. I know.” His hand fell on her shoulder, and he spun her around to face him. “You go to Dundragon. I don’t want you there, and if I had my way, I’d let you walk to Hades, but I’ve no choice. By God, I’ll not have you making more trouble for me.”
“I do have a choice. I go nowhere with you.”
He studied her defiant expression. “You’re a very stubborn woman.” He drew his dagger.
She stiffened as her pulse leaped with fear. Was he going to cut her throat?
He smiled with tigerish satisfaction. “You think I might wish to rid myself of a troublesome wench. You’re right, I do.” The dagger arced downward, piercing and ripping her water skin, then slicing through the leather cord. She stared in horror as the pouch fell to the ground and the last of her precious water spurted out onto the sand. “No!”
He sheathed the dagger. “Now you have no choice either.” He turned away. “Throw aside that basket you’re carrying. It will be too cumbersome.”
She stared at him in helpless fury. With one stroke he had destroyed her chance of reaching safety without him. She wanted to shout, to pound him as she had done before.
He mounted the horse and sat waiting for her.
He expected her to come meekly and do his bidding.
“Throw the basket away,” he repeated.
“Or you’ll stick your dagger in it too?” She strode forward. “I’ll go, but my basket goes also.”
“I’ll take the basket.” Kadar quickly slipped from the saddle. “It will be my pleasure.”
“Throw it away,” Ware said, meeting her gaze.
He did not care if she took the basket; he just wanted to have his way. Well, he had won enough battles. “I won’t give it up.”
“It contains such a treasure?”
“Not what you would consider treasure. Nothing that is worth your thievery.”
His expression changed, tightened, as if she had struck him. She heard Kadar’s inhaled breath beside her.
“Thievery?” Ware said softly.
A little of her anger ebbed, banished by caution. She had stirred something dark and potentially lethal. Yet she could not back down. “Kadar said Hassan was an old acquaintance. Like to like.”
“Like to like.” His eyes half closed as he savored the words. “Yes, we do have certain similarities and interests.”
Kadar jerked the basket from her back. “It’s growing late. We must set out, or we won’t reach Dundragon before dawn.” He grasped her arm. “I’ve reconsidered. I believe my horse will hold your weight after all.”
“Nonsense.” Lord Ware brushed his hand aside. “We mustn’t risk doing damage to such a fine animal. I’ll take her.” He remounted his horse, leaned down, and lifted Thea before him onto the saddle.