Lady Of The Lake. Elizabeth Mayne

who would inherit Warwick in the years to come. He could not bed her without pleasure there for the both of them.

      “Tell me when you exhaust your font of threats.”

      His caustic words made Tala look sharply at his face, seeking his eyes in the shadows. Moonlight allowed her to see his tempting mouth and straight nose and the wickedly superior arch of his black eyebrows. He took liberties no man had ever dared to from her and preened like a peacock because of it.

      Her heart pounded inside her chest like a drum. She could barely moisten her mouth enough to speak above her fear. “You are not going to ravish me?”

      “Is that what you want? Proof that I am a barbarian?” Edon asked plainly.

      “You take pleasure in mocking me.”

      “As I am taking my pleasure in ravishing you this very moment. What next, Princess? Shall I carry you to the cliff and chain you to the rocks above my quarry? Sue your king for a ransom? Await the brave knights of Wessex, come to slay the dragons in the caves and free you?”

      “This is preposterous. We have nothing to discuss. Let me go, I implore you.”

      “Not until you give me assurances that you will behave as a lady, contain yourself and sit at peace within my manse.”

      “I will mouth no empty promises to a Viking.” She spat out the words with a full measure of scorn.

      Edon straightened his arms and raised his shoulders. His movement increased the pressure of his hands upon her wrists. “Rig!”

      In an instant his man appeared in the gap of the open door. “Lord, how may I serve you?”

      “Bring me two strips of braided leather and a cloth suitable for gagging this woman. I tire of her vapid conversation.”

      “You oaf! We are not conversing.” Tala jerked her right hand off the bedding, trying to slap him again.

      “Your powers of deduction astonish me,” Edon growled, and he slammed her arm back onto the feather bed. He gave her wrist a punishing twist to teach her the futility of her struggles. Then he grew serious, ending the game between them. “Why did the boy not come with you?” he demanded.

      “Because I sent him home,” Tala snapped.

      “Where is your home?”

      “You built a damned fortress on top of it!”

      Edon dropped his elbows onto the bed beside her. Her swollen breasts were very fetching now, displayed so prettily by her uneven breathing and the dishabille of her gaping gown. Rig returned and tossed long strips of cloth and two rawhide laces onto the bed at Edon’s right hand.

      Tala looked to her left as the objects landed. She quickly looked back at the Viking, too aware that her heart had begun a new cadence inside her chest. His mood had changed. A moment ago his threat had contained a playful edge to it. Now the air between them throbbed with true danger.

      “You wouldn’t dare tie me up.”

      “Lady, I dare anything.”

      “Release me and we will begin anew.”

      “Nay.” His eyes fixed firmly upon hers, granting no quarter. She had foolishly walked into his trap.

      “You can’t be allowed to wander in and out at will. My niece wants to cut you into seven pieces and store your soul in a jar. My king wants you baptized and made into a Christian. Your king wants you married with unseemly haste. And I, lady, wish to relieve my bladder. This position is becoming more untenable by the moment.”

      “By Anu’s shrouds, you are an ass. Go and piss into the wind and leave me be, Viking.”

      “Shortly.” Edon released her hands all at once and took up the bindings.

      Tala didn’t bother to resist being gagged and bound. The Viking had already won the struggle. Her hands were too numb to do any harm to him. He stuffed the cloth in her mouth and bound the gag around her face, flipped her onto her belly and tied her hands securely at the small of her back.

      Smugly satisfied with his work, he slapped her bottom soundly as he removed his weight. Edon of Warwick gave the wolf a command to guard her, and departed. Tala choked on her own fury.

      

      As uncomfortable and miserable as she was, Tala still dozed as the night lengthened. Where the Viking had taken himself to, she couldn’t guess. The manse quieted quickly. Voices in the hall became muffled, their owners respecting the mewling cries of the newborn infant. The wolf fretted between spells of whining and turning round and round in a circle, her claws clicking on the floor.

      Tala felt just as anxious as the beast. She had to get home. Venn would be worried sick. Stafford would be ready to call out the guard and storm the hill if Venn dared to admit where Tala had gone.

      An eon later, Edon of Warwick returned. He unfastened his breeks, stripped them from his lean hips and dropped onto the bed beside her. Tala flipped her head to the other side, glaring at him in mute entreaty.

      He slid his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, pretending he couldn’t hear her muffled groveling.

      “Lady, ‘tis late. Do not start your bellyaching. I do not intend to listen.”

      To prove that he closed his eyes and ignored her for a good long while. Tala lay absolutely still, impotently raging against the urge to kick him into the otherworld. After a long, long while he opened one eye, peeking at her. She blinked. She heard larks singing and was certain the sun would rise any moment.

      The mattress shifted as he turned to his side, facing her. He lifted her diadem from the back of her head. With surprisingly gentle hands, he removed the sheer net that had held back her hair.

      Edon let his fingers spread through the tangle of fiery curls gathered at the back of her head. He marveled at the soft texture of the strands and the vibrant color that moonlight could not diminish. The knot of the gag tangled in the curls.

      He dismissed the churlish feeling that hounded him for having left her bound so long. Gruffly, he said, “Are you going to cooperate with me now, woman?”

      Tala nodded mute agreement. Her downcast eyes did not impress him. Rebellion clearly simmered under the surface of her submission.

      Edon grasped her shoulders and sat her up. Her gown fell to her waist. His breath caught in his throat at her shocking beauty and he made a vain effort to hide the effect the sight had upon him. The gods had not known what they were doing when they made women so beautiful that strong men fell weak in the knee before them. Steeling his resolve to ignore her abundantly pleasing attributes, Edon took his knife from the table next to the bed and unsheathed the blade.

      “Do not move!” he commanded in a surly voice. He cut the bonds from her wrists, then slid the blade inside the knot at the back of her head. The binding fell apart. He tossed the blade onto the bedding beside his right knee and pulled her back against his naked chest. He removed the wad of cloth from between her teeth, tossing it to the floor.

      She wagged her jaw back and forth and swallowed hard several times. Edon grasped her hands, holding them before her. They were cold and stiff, her fingers swollen. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he rubbed her fingers and palms, massaging firmly.

      “The pain will end shortly,” he said.

      Her response was a curt nod. He renewed his efforts at restoring the blood to her numb extremities. Her naked breasts brushed his hands and forearms. The soft, tempting cones stood out against the pale cloth of her gown pooled low over her hips.

      Edon deliberately laid her useless hand on her thighs, knowing she would not move them voluntarily—not before the painful tingling of waking flesh abated. He stroked his hands up her bare arms and caressed her shoulders, gently massaging her neck and throat.

      “You are very beautiful, Tala ap Griffin. No, do not try to speak. I will tell you what I think,