Shana was a woman—a princess, at that. And so Thorne could not deal with her entirely as he'd have liked.
He approached the tower door and nodded to the guard. "Good eventide, Cedric. You've had no trouble with the lady?"
"None at al , milord."
He dismissed the guard, then paused to listen at the door for a moment. There was no sound from within, none whatsoever. Thorne could not help it; a frown laden with suspicion creased his brow. His senses ready and alert, he pushed open the door and stepped in, thrusting it shut behind him. The chamber was steeped in darkness; a few fading embers in the hearth cast out feelers of weak, wavering light. Thorne scanned the room sharply,
convinced his reluctant guest awaited the chance to pounce on him from the shadows. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. A glance to his left revealed her huddled in the far corner, her legs drawn tight to her chest, her head resting on upraised knees.
She was asleep, he realized. His first impulse was to leave her as she was, crawling into bed and seeking his rest. But some demon inside refused to let her be.
He lit a candle and crossed to stand before her, staring down at her. Her lashes curled heavy and black against her skin. The curve of her cheek gleamed in the pale light, pink and sleep-flushed. Some strange emotion caught at his chest. Thorne knew if he were to stretch out a hand, he would find it warm and smooth beneath his fingertips.
She stirred, slowly raising her head to behold his features. Hers were curiously unguarded, her expression one of befuddled confusion. Thorne stood as if spel bound. Her eyes were pure and clear as crystal, her lips parted and soft and damp. The smudge of dirt on her temple only added to her air of vulnerability. An odd sensation gripped him, like the tightening of a fist low in his bel y.
He knew the exact instant full awareness returned to her. She scrambled to her feet so quickly he had to step back lest the candleflame catch fire in her clothing.
He moved to light the tapers in the wall sconce, then tossed a chunk of wood on the fire in the hearth. Hands on his hips, he turned to regard her. 'If you wished to rest, you should have availed yourself of the bed, for I fear this cold floor offers meager comfort. Or is it that you've realized the rashness of your actions—mayhap you regret your attempt to kill me and wish to begin a self-imposed penance?" A slow smile crept along his lips; he beheld eyes grown dark and stormy.
"There is much I regret, milord/' she retorted sweetly. "Heartiest of al is that I did not choose to see you slain earlier."
That maddening smile widened further. "Newbury was right. You are a bloodthirsty little piece, aren't you?"
She did not reply. Thorne was both admiring and irate as he watched her glide across the room, total y ignoring him. She seated herself in a straight-backed chair near the hearth.
Even now, with her face smudged, knowing her fate lay solely within his hands, she'd lost not a whit of grace and poise.
He presented himself before her and gestured at the tray of food she'd left untouched. "I do not care to be further accused of starving you, Lady Shana." His mildness was deceptive.
She spared him neither glance nor reply. Instead she stared into the fire where flames licked up the chimney, the tilt of her head coolly regal.
This time he did not bother to mask the edge of steel. "I wil ask you once more, milady. Why didn't you eat?"
"I'l not eat English food in an English hovel." she stated flatly.
"Castle Langley is hardly a hovel, milady. And T would remind you, you had no such qualms when you shared a meal with me in this very chamber." He began to circle her. "Ah, but I forget. That was but a. sacrifice in order that you might enact your plan to see me slain."
Shana spoke not a word. She knew what he was about. He meant to goad her, but she'd not give him the satisfaction!
"A pity Castle Langley is a trifle humble for your
He approached the tower door and nodded to the guard. "Good eventide, Cedric. You've had no trouble with the lady?"
"None at al , milord."
He dismissed the guard, then paused to listen at the door for a moment. There was no sound from within, none whatsoever. Thorne could not help it; a frown laden with suspicion creased his brow. His senses ready and alert, he pushed open the door and stepped in, thrusting it shut behind him. The chamber was steeped in darkness; a few fading embers in the hearth cast out feelers of weak, wavering light. Thorne scanned the room sharply,
convinced his reluctant guest awaited the chance to pounce on him from the shadows. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. A glance to his left revealed her huddled in the far corner, her legs drawn tight to her chest, her head resting on upraised knees.
She was asleep, he realized. His first impulse was to leave her as she was, crawling into bed and seeking his rest. But some demon inside refused to let her be.
He lit a candle and crossed to stand before her, staring down at her. Her lashes curled heavy and black against her skin. The curve of her cheek gleamed in the pale light, pink and sleep-flushed. Some strange emotion caught at his chest. Thorne knew if he were to stretch out a hand, he would find it warm and smooth beneath his fingertips.
She stirred, slowly raising her head to behold his features. Hers were curiously unguarded, her expression one of befuddled confusion. Thorne stood as if spel bound. Her eyes were pure and clear as crystal, her lips parted and soft and damp. The smudge of dirt on her temple only added to her air of vulnerability. An odd sensation gripped him, like the tightening of a fist low in his bel y.
He knew the exact instant full awareness returned to her. She scrambled to her feet so quickly he had to step back lest the candleflame catch fire in her clothing.
He moved to light the tapers in the wall sconce, then tossed a chunk of wood on the fire in the hearth. Hands on his hips, he turned to regard her. 'If you wished to rest, you should have availed yourself of the bed, for I fear this cold floor offers meager comfort. Or is it that you've realized the rashness of your actions—mayhap you regret your attempt to kill me and wish to begin a self-imposed penance?" A slow smile crept along his lips; he beheld eyes grown dark and stormy.
"There is much I regret, milord/' she retorted sweetly. "Heartiest of al is that I did not choose to see you slain earlier."
That maddening smile widened further. "Newbury was right. You are a bloodthirsty little piece, aren't you?"
She did not reply. Thorne was both admiring and irate as he watched her glide across the room, total y ignoring him. She seated herself in a straight-backed chair near the hearth.
Even now, with her face smudged, knowing her fate lay solely within his hands, she'd lost not a whit of grace and poise.
He presented himself before her and gestured at the tray of food she'd left untouched. "I do not care to be further accused of starving you, Lady Shana." His mildness was deceptive.
She spared him neither glance nor reply. Instead she stared into the fire where flames licked up the chimney, the tilt of her head coolly regal.
This time he did not bother to mask the edge of steel. "I wil ask you once more, milady. Why didn't you eat?"
"I'l not eat English food in an English hovel." she stated flatly.
"Castle Langley is hardly a hovel, milady. And T would remind you, you had no such qualms when you shared a meal with me in this very chamber." He began to circle her. "Ah, but I forget. That was but a. sacrifice in order that you might enact your plan to see me slain."
Shana spoke not a word. She knew what he was about. He meant to goad her, but she'd not give him the satisfaction!
"A pity Castle Langley is a trifle humble for your
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