“Have you no faith in your men-at-arms?”
“Aye, I’ve faith enough. Faith that some of them have had too much to drink and would find a woman alone fair game.”
“No one saw me.”
“I saw you. The stableboy saw you. But that’s what you wanted, was it not?”
“What?” she asked as he opened the back door and forced her up the stone steps to the upper floor.
“Don’t bother lying to me,” he growled as she stumbled upon the stairs. “You and he have either plotted together for your escape or you’ve become lovers.”
“Lovers?” she repeated, her voice low. Was he jesting? He thought she and the stableboy had fallen in love. The thought nearly made her laugh, but she held her tongue. If Hagan believed that she and Bjorn had met to be together, he would be less suspicious of her true plans. “ ’Tis only been a few days, m’lord. What think you of me—that I be no better than a common wenc
h?”
He didn’t say a word, but his lips compressed into a thin, angry line.
“Trust you no one?”
“Certainly not a woman who tries to kill me in my sleep.”
“I don’t even know the stableboy,” she said, but didn’t sound convincing.
“Don’t you now? Yet you were alone with him in the dark, defied my orders and sneaked out of your chamber to meet him.” He kicked open the door to his room and threw her inside. Embers from the fire reflected bloodred in the angles of his face, and the smell of burning wood singed the air.
Sorcha nearly lost her footing, but turned, intent on running out of the room, when he closed the door firmly and turned the key. “Now, savior of all that is Prydd,” he said, advancing upon her with even, sure strides. “You had best be telling me what it is you were doing with the stableboy.”
“I told you—”
“Liar! From the moment you set foot in this castle, you have lied and argued and bargained for your release. You tricked the guards and the cook and tried to thrust a knife into my ribs.” She’d inched backward, her heart thundering as he closed in on her, and finally her back was pressed hard against the smooth stones of the wall. “And now, when I find you with the stableboy and hear you whispering, you tell me that you hardly know him.” His face was fierce, his eyes slits. “You’ve made a fool of me and a mockery of this castle, and now you think that I should believe that you were only restless, unable to sleep, and you just happened to meet Bjorn as if you were on a summer stroll through the gardens.”
“That’s the way it was.”
“You would lie to save him, just as you would have slept with me to protect your sister?”
She tried to slap him, but he was quick. Years of training had prepared him and he caught her wrist and curved it backward, catching her arm around her back.
“I’ve tried to trust you, Sorcha. I’ve treated you as my guest, and for that you’ve betrayed me.”
“Nay, I—”
“ ’Tis time I collected on my part of the bargain,” he said through tight teeth as he slammed his body hard against hers and crushed her breasts.
“Please, Lord Hagan—”
But he wasn’t listening. His lips crashed down upon hers. With fierce possession, he kissed her. She tried to push away, but couldn’t, and though she willed herself to kick him, he pinned her with his larger, stronger body. His thigh muscles pressed against hers, and his mouth, hard and eager, slid easily over hers.
She felt her bones begin to melt, as if they were as soft as candle wax, and when his tongue pushed against her teeth, her jaw unlocked to allow him entry. With brutal strokes, he touched and teased, his tongue flicking against the roof of her mouth, and thrusting against her own.
She heard a moan and realized it came from her own throat as he lifted his head to stare down in her eyes. “So what be you, Sorcha? Lady or wench?”
“I’m not—”
He kissed her again, his lips hard and supple, his tongue slick and wet as it mated anxiously with hers. She felt a tingle that centered deep in her insides. One of his rough hands moved forward to capture the weight of her breast. “Ahh, that’s right. You’re neither, are ye? Not a lady. Nor a wench. Just the damned savior of Prydd.”
“Please …” she whispered as he tore open her cloak and found the strings of her tunic. “Do not …”
His fingers scraped her flesh, and she dragged in a sharp breath. Somewhere deep within her, a murky cloud of desire began to swell. Her blood turned to liquid fire and his lips sought hers again.