Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [41]
She wondered suddenly if the rumors about him were true, that he had become a warrior in the years of his banishment, a mercenary who spent his life fighting on behalf of those who would pay him for his service. Looking into that ruthless and icy gaze, she knew in a flash of insight that it was true. He was a man who thought nothing of killing another, who lived for hunting and war.
How many times had Marcus warned her that she needed to learn to control her temper? Somehow she could not. Especially with this man, who had once claimed to be her brother’s friend, then had callously left him to rot all this time in the hellhole of Castle Doom.
She had expected so much more from him. Based on her early memories, her foolish, girlish imaginings, she had envisioned him a hero, someone bound to aid her brother, as well as his own people, freeing them from the tyrant who had taken his father’s place. But he had stayed away. Damn him, he was not worthy of Marcus’s love or respect. Or of hers.
“Let me go,” she commanded, fighting back the tears that threatened. “You have no right…”
“I have every right. I rescued you, and now you will make yourself useful to me. Before this night is over, Lady Arianne, you are going to explain your hatred of me. And much else besides. Don’t even think of sleep for many hours, for we have much to discuss,” he told her roughly.
“Oh? Do you plan to help me, then?” she inquired, her wrist burning from the touch of his fingers. And for some reason the heat still had not left her face.
“My plans are my concern. You will answer my questions and do as you are told.”
“You mistake the matter. I am in charge of this rescue, my lord. I am working closely with Felix, my brother’s captain, who is even now assembling Marcus’s men to retake Galeron as soon as Marcus is freed. At this late date, if you wish to throw in with us, it is necessary for you to answer to me.”
Her violet eyes locked on his gray ones. There was no wavering in them, no uncertainty.
So, Nicholas thought, taking in not only the wide violet gaze but also the delicate line of her jaw, her blazing cheeks, and thick, spiraling curls that shimmered like a red-gold sunset in the firelight. The child with the braids and freckles and soiled tunic has grown into a slender, heart-stoppingly lovely warrior-woman. He fought a smile.
“The freckles,” he said musingly.
“I beg your pardon?”
He released her wrist, and his hand went to her chin. Very gently, he tilted it up so that he could better examine her.
“You’ve lost nearly all your freckles, Arianne. Save for a mere dusting across your nose. And a most comely little nose it is, may I add.”
She jerked back. Her face felt hot where he had touched it. “If you think to soften me with flattery, you’re sadly mistaken. I told you already, you will not turn my head with words, my lord. I am not a stupid maid who will come all undone because you have directed your attentions to me.”
His brows rose again. He looked puzzled.
“There are serious matters afoot,” she rushed on, lest she indeed become distracted by his touch, by the admiration in his words. Foolish first loves died hard. But hers was dead now, she told herself. Completely dead. The only thing she wanted from Nicholas was aid in freeing Marcus.
“We must plan. However much we may dislike one another, if you are interested in helping me to rescue Marcus, we must work together.”
“Very well. But my friend would never forgive me if I were to let his little sister freeze to death. For the last time, Arianne,