Miles shrugged the hand away. “She’s been hurt! Badly hurt! Not just her body that’s covered with bruises and scratches, but she’s built a wall around her of anger and hatred.”
Sir Guy felt that he was standing on the edge of a deep ravine. “This girl is a highborn lady,” he said quietly. “You can’t keep her prisoner. The king has already outlawed your brother. You don’t need to provoke him anymore. You must return Lady Elizabeth to her brother.”
“Return her to a place where women are tortured? That’s where she learned to hate. And if I return her now, what will she think of the Montgomerys? Will she have learned that we aren’t evil as her brother was?”
“You can’t think to keep her!” Sir Guy was aghast.
Miles seemed to be considering this. “It will be days before anyone learns where she is. Perhaps in that time I can show her—”
“And what of your brothers?” Sir Guy demanded. “They’re expecting you home. It won’t take Gavin long to find that you hold Elizabeth Chatworth prisoner.” He paused, lowering his voice. “The girl will have only good to say about the Montgomerys if you return her unharmed.”
Miles’s eyes sparkled. “I believe Elizabeth would say she used an ax to force me to return her.” He gave a slight smile. “My mind is made up. I will keep her for just a little while, long enough to show her that a Montgomery isn’t like her dead brother. Now! I must return and”—he smiled more broadly—“give my dirty little captive a bath. Come on, Guy, don’t look like that. It’s just for a few days.”
Sir Guy kept quiet as he f
ollowed his young master back to camp, but he wondered if Elizabeth Chatworth could be conquered in just a few days.
The moment Elizabeth was sure Miles was gone, she ran to the far side of the tent and, lifting the heavy fabric, saw men’s feet just outside. She checked the entire perimeter of the tent and there was practically no space between the guards’ feet, almost as if they were holding hands to protect themselves against one small woman.
She was scratching her dirty scalp when Miles returned carrying two buckets of steaming water. Instantly, she stiffened her spine, folded her arms across her chest. Even when he sat beside her on the cot she didn’t look at him.
Not until he took her hand and began to bathe it with a warm, soapy cloth did she look at him. After a moment’s astonishment, she jerked away from him.
He caught her chin in his hand and began to wash her face.
“You’ll feel much better when you’re clean,” he said gently.
She knocked his hand away. “I don’t like to be touched. Get away from me!”
Patiently, he recaptured her chin and resumed washing. “You are a lovely woman, Elizabeth, and you should be proud of your looks.”
Elizabeth looked at him and decided at that moment that if she didn’t already hate Miles Montgomery, she would now. Obviously, he was a man used to women falling over their feet for him. He thought all he had to do was touch a woman’s cheek and she would be panting with desire. He was handsome, true, and his voice was sweet, but many men were more handsome and had years of experience behind them—and several of these men had tried unsuccessfully to seduce Elizabeth.
She gazed into his eyes, let hers go liquid and when she saw the little gleam of satisfaction creep into his eyes, she smiled—and then sunk her teeth into the side of his hand.
Miles was so astonished that it took him a moment to react. He grabbed her jaw and buried his fingers into the muscles, forcing her to open her mouth. Obviously still astonished, he flexed his hand, studied the deep teeth marks in his skin. When he looked back at Elizabeth, there was triumph in her eyes.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked. “Do you think I don’t know what game you’re playing? You hope to gentle the tigress and when you have me eating from your hand, you’ll return me to my brother, no doubt carrying another of your bastards. It will be a great triumph for you, both as a Montgomery and as a man.”
His eyes held hers for a moment. “You are a clever woman, Elizabeth. Perhaps I would like to prove to you that men are capable of more than savagery.”
“And how shall you do that? By holding me prisoner? By forcing me to endure your touch? You can see that I don’t tremble with lust every time you get near me. Is it that you hate to admit defeat? Pagnell likes rape and violence. What stirs you? The chase? And once you have the woman do you discard her as used goods?”
She could see that she’d asked him questions he couldn’t answer and it disgusted her that her own species had always succumbed to him so easily. “Can’t a man, just once, do something decent? Send me to my brother!”
“No!” Miles shouted into her face, then his eyes widened. Never had a woman made him angry before. “Turn around, Elizabeth. I’m going to wash your hair.”
She gave him a calculating look. “And if I refuse, will you beat me?”
“I am close to considering it.” He grabbed her shoulder and spun her about, pulling her down onto the cot so her long hair hung over the edge.
Elizabeth was quiet while he soaped and rinsed her hair and she wondered if she’d pushed him too far. But his manner infuriated her. He was so quiet, so sure of himself, that she longed to find his feet of clay. She’d already seen that he merely had to hint at an order to his men and they obeyed him. Did women come to him so easily, too?
Perhaps she was wrong to try to anger him. Perhaps he’d release her if she pretended to fall madly in love with him. If she wept prettily on his shoulder he might do as she asked, but besides the disgusting ordeal of voluntarily touching him, she refused to beg to any man.
Miles combed her wet hair with a delicate ivory comb and when he was finished, he left the tent and returned in moments with a lovely gown of red samite, a mixture of silk and wool. There were also underclothes of fine lawn.
“You may finish bathing or not, as you like,” he said, “but I would suggest you put the clothes on.” With that he left her alone.