“There was no payment! Why will you not believe me?”
He frowned suddenly. “Do not move, my lady.” He rose from the bed and strode purposefully to his large chest. He jerked open the lid and riffled through the contents. Beautiful cloth rippled through his impatient fingers. He delved to the bottom and pulled up a large leather case. His fingers trembled as he opened it. The necklace, worth a king’s ransom, was gone. All hope dissolved in that moment. The depths of his disappointment startled him. He had wanted to believe her. But she had lied.
He slowly replaced the leather case in the bottom of the trunk, slowly straightened all the glittering cloth, and shut the lid.
Without a word, he strode back to the bed. “You were a fool to come back,” he said.
“I . . . I do not understand.”
“The necklace is gone.”
“What necklace?” She gazed at him, bewildered.
He did not even show that he had heard her. He leaned over her and ripped away the skirt of her gown.
Kassia gasped and tried to jerk away from him, but she was no match for his strength, and he had but to use such a small portion to subdue her. She watched him, wide-eyed, as he tore the wool into strips. He clasped her hands and drew them over her head.
“Graelam,” she began, “what are you going to do?”
“I told you, told you quite specifically before you left me again.”
“No!” she shrieked, but he tied her wrists securely above her head.
He rose and stared down at her for a long moment. He saw the terror in her eyes, the pleading. Her small breasts were heaving violently against the cloth of her tunic.
He quickly subdued her thrashing legs and spread them wide, binding each ankle. He drew his dagger, and sat down beside her.
“Please,” she whispered, nearly beyond reason, “do not hurt me.”
Slowly he sliced the dagger blade through the material. He cut each layer from her body, until she lay naked, sprawled helplessly on her back.
He straightened over her and let his eyes rove over each inch of her. “You have filled out a bit,” he said dispassionately. He lightly touched a fingertip to her breast, and felt her quiver in fear.
“I wonder if that tiny little belly of yours will ever fill with my child.”
Kassia closed her eyes against his words, against what she knew he was going to do to her. Fool, she screamed at herself. Such a fool.
She heard him disrobing, felt the bed sink down as he eased beside her. His hand splayed over her belly, and she moaned softly, helplessly.
Graelam gazed at the slender straight legs drawn so widely apart, followed their woman’s shape to the soft curls between her thighs. He touched her lightly, and she whimpered, but not with desire. Never with desire for him. What do you expect, you stupid whoreson?
Damn her! The devil take her and all women! He lurched up between her legs and grasped her hips. She was bound so securely that she could not struggle against him. He did not mean to take her, merely to frighten her, merely prove to her that he would not allow her to make a fool of him.
He drew away his hands and sat back on his haunches, looking at her face. It was bloodless. Tears were streaming from her tightly closed eyes. He jerked
away from her, her distress burning deep into him. He picked up a blanket and smoothed it over her trembling body.
He turned away from her, wishing he could close out the sound of her choking on her own tears. He cursed loudly and fluently, grabbed a towel, and wiped her face with it.
“Stop it,” he growled at her. “Stop those damned tears!”
She sniffed, and unwittingly brushed her cheek against his hand. He felt her hot, salty tears wet his palm.
He could not bear it. He untied her wrists and ankles, cursing himself for a weak bastard, even as he rubbed feeling back into her numbed flesh.
She lay passively, her sobs now noisy hiccups.
He rose. “At least you did come back,” he said, “for whatever reason.”