My Rebellious Heart by Samantha James

her body slim and curved and lush.
    He had felt the first stirrings of desire that very first hour, for only a saint could gaze on such beauty and feel nothing. He recal ed what he had said. There must be many, many ways in which a woman like you could please a man. A part of him dared him to see if it were true, while another part was appal ed that he could even think of her in such a way, now that he'd learned what a perfidious little bitch she real y was! So it was that his heart demanded he mete out a punishment that was swift and severe and deserving.
    Something of his thoughts must have shown. Geoffrey's gaze sharpened. Thorne caught the look and smiled tightly. "She's a beauteous woman," he murmured. "You remarked on it yourself."
    "Aye," Geoffrey agreed vehemently. "But I've never known you to take a wench against her will! God forbid that you should start with Lady Shana!"
    Thorne's smile withered. "And why not?" He posed the question in a clipped, abrupt tone.
    Geoffrey made an impatient gesture. Thorne was ever quick to anger when he thought someone cast aspersions on his parentage—or lack of it. "Don't be so damned touchy, man!
    I mean only that I doubt you would find her wil ing."
     
    Thorne's gaze narrowed. "You think you would fare better with the lady?"
    Geoffrey did not hesitate to return his glare in ful measure. "I mean only to remind you that she is a lady, Thorne, no doubt gently born and bred. I doubt she'll take kindly to force!"
    A dangerous glint had appeared in Thorne's eyes. "And may I remind you," he countered, his tone deadly soft, "that the lady sought to see an end to me—and very nearly succeeded. You must forgive me if I'm hardly inclined to absolve her so quickly."
    "Thorne!" Geoffrey struggled to his feet. "For pity's sake, man—"
    "You are quick to rally to her defense, Geoffrey. The lady may be fair—aye, the fairest in the land! But many a man has lost al reason and sense for the sake of a woman's favors."
    Thorne regarded him with cool aplomb. "I do not question Lady Shana's loyalties," he added quietly. "I pray you'll do nothing to make me question yours."
    Geoffrey watched him spin around and stride toward the stairs. He sank down onto the bench and stared into the half-empty tankard of ale. He was not worried that Thorne would bear a grudge against him for speaking his mind. Over the years, they'd had any number of disagreements, al of which were usual y forgotten by morn.
    But he did not envy the Lady Shana ... especially given Thorne's present mood.
    Indeed, Thorne's frame of mind was anything but tame as he climbed the tower stairs. He was angry with Geoffrey, for he suspected his friend had fallen prey to a man's worst enemy —the wiles of a woman! He had been a careful observer over the years. He'd seen more than one man succumb to female ambition, particularly at court. Even the stoutest heart had fal en before a husky promise
     
    whispered in the ear, a dainty hand placed just so. Men relied on brawn and strength to fight their battles; women plied the sweetly feminine arts of cajolery and flattery. They would tease and torment a man until he was half crazed with passion; they surrendered or withheld their bodies to suit their own whims, until their chosen victim possessed no wil of his own.
    That did not mean Thorne shunned the female of the species. He enjoyed a lusty tumble as much as the next man. Nor was he an inconsiderate lover; seeing to his partner's pleasure merely heightened his own. But he prided himself on his control—he would let no one manipulate him, least of al a woman. He was careful to keep both mind and heart detached, separate and apart from the physical demands of his body.
    But Geoffrey's words of warning where Lady Shana was concerned stabbed at his conscience— he did not like it, but there was naught he could do to stop it. Deep within him, there was a burning need for justice, no matter how cruel or harsh either of them might find it. But