She was too lovely to remain unclaimed for long, that was for certain. Indeed, so close at hand she was utterly exquisite, even more than he'd imagined. Her features were finely sculpted and flawless, her lovely mouth hued with the palest of rose. Wide gray eyes, clear and translucent as a rushing mountain stream, gazed mutely into his. All that was male and primeval within Thorne clamored to the fore. A surge of desire, potent and unchecked, heated his veins. He damned the concealing hood that hid the glory of her hair. What little he could see was rich and tawny-gold.
But she wanted something from him, he realized curiously. And all at once he wondered just how far she would go to achieve her purpose... whatever that purpose might be.
So it was privacy she craved, was it? Nay, he decided with a touch of cynicism, in this he was not averse to obliging her. Nor would she be the first to ply her body in exchange for some small favor. Privacy would indeed suit what he had in mind.
"Come," was all he said. A single movement flattened her hand against the crook of his elbow. With the pressure of his palm, he fettered her to him as surely as a shackle encircling her wrist. He paused only for a word with a young serving girl. Another twenty paces took them to a tower door and through. Before she knew what he was about, he was leading her up and around a winding stair, through yet another door and into a large chamber.
The door swung shut behind them with a dull thud.
There Shana gaped in shock, the beat of her heart wild and rampant. Her gaze skimmed the huge curtained bed, then the shield propped against the far wall, which bore the same two-headed beast as his pennon. Mother of Christ, this was his private chamber! She'd been prepared to come face to face with a savage lion. She had not been prepared to face the lion in his den.
She dare not stay with him here, a man with his reputation yet! With a gasp she pulled free. "This is your bedchamber!"
"You would berate me for honoring your wishes? Milady, you wished to speak with me in private. This is the one place where we may achieve at least a semblance of privacy."
Without further ado, her hood was plucked from her head. She could only stand in shocked disbelief as warm fingers deftly freed the brooch that held her cloak in place. She felt it whisked from her shoulders. And then he raked her with a glance so unabashedly brazen it stripped the color from her cheeks. It lingered on the shining coronet atop her head, the thrust of well-rounded breasts beneath her gown, the sweep of gently rounded hips.
No man had ever dared to gaze upon her thus—as if she were a common strumpet—and by God, none would ever do so again!
Both his gall and his utter calm were maddening.
"Milord," she chose her words carefully, "I fail to see why we cannot conduct this meeting elsewhere."
"And I fail to see why we cannot conduct it here. Or do you fear I think you make advances no proper lady should make?"
Fire sparked in her eyes. " 'Tis not my conduct I question!"
Jet brows shot up. "What! You question mine? Lady Shana, surely you cannot think my intentions less than honorable."
Less than honorable. Aye, he had that right! But his mockery kindled a ready indignation. "You mistake my reasons for accompanying you here. 'Tis not for such—" to her horror she felt herself falter, "such sport as you may think."
His parry was swift and unrepentant. "And why should I think thusly? After all, milady, might I remind you, 'twas you who sought me out. Though I must say, I do wonder that you dared to come to Langley unescorted."
Shana flushed. She could find no words to refute his, for he was right. Usually only a woman of questionable virtue dared to travel alone.
"Indeed, milady, it occurs to me that mayhap you are in need of a protector."
Her chin came up and she fixed him with a glare both challenging and defiant. "I fear no one," she stated clearly, "least of all any man. And I have no need of a protector."
No, Thorne thought slowly. She did not. Her annoyance did not escape him. She was, he realized, not used to being questioned.
He was both piqued and irritated, though he knew not why. The color of her hair was unusual, a dark gold, shot through with copper, rich and gleaming. Her beauty struck him like a blow to the gut. But the Lady Shana also projected a surety of herself that was rare in a woman. Her posture was coldly dignified, her demeanor one of haughty pride. Why, she acted as though she were the queen herself!
Thorne found himself possessed of a sudden, ruthless desire to see her tumbled from her throne.
"If I wanted you, mistress, I'd not hesitate to say so. But lovely as you are, at this moment I fear your charms escape me. I am too tired and hungry to partake of..." he smiled benignly, "such sport, as you call it."
Ah, but he was bold! Fury wrapped its stranglehold around her. The man was a beast, with no manners whatsoever. She opened her mouth to deliver a scorching retort, but as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. He bade a young maid enter. The girl carried a tray laden with food which she deposited on a small table before the hearth. She curtsied, then left.
The earl crossed to the table, then turned to her, as if she were no more than a troublesome afterthought. "Will you join me, milady?"
Shana took a deep, calming breath, secretly glad she'd curbed her wayward tongue. She dared not antagonize him, not yet. She let him seat her, then serve her, all the while faultlessly polite. And all the while Shana thought secretly that he need not bother. He disliked her. He disliked her intensely. She could feel it with all that she possessed.
She accepted only wine and a small portion of herring. The earl attacked his meal with relish. Clearly her presence did not hinder his appetite. Shana chafed restlessly, wishing he would hurry. She was anxious for this encounter to be over and done with.
He sliced a tender morsel of roast lamb and offered it to her. The tempting aroma teased her nostrils, yet she hesitated. She wanted the tidbit, she realized, but was loath to take it from his hand. She chided herself impatiently, wondering what madness seized her. It was usual for a man to carve for a woman. She'd often eaten thusly from Barris's fingers, so why was she so reticent?
She shook her head. There was a subtle tightening of that harshly carved mouth. Had she given herself away?
At length he pushed aside his trencher. "For a woman who professed the need to speak to me on a matter most urgent, you are remarkably silent, milady."
His voice held all the warmth of a winter wind blowing from the mountaintops. It seemed, Shana concluded grimly, that he played at pretense no more.
"I merely wished to let you eat in peace," she said coolly. "But if you are ready to tend to business, I shall gladly oblige."
"By all means, please do so." His expression was distantly aloof.
Shana took a deep breath. "You have come to Castle Langley in order to bring the Welsh to heel, have you not?"
"I've made no secret of that, milady."
Her heart began to beat with thick, uneven strokes. "I believe you've also come to roust out the rebel known as the Dragon."
He went as still as a statue, yet she sensed a rapier-sharp alertness which had not been there before.
"And you, Lady Shana—" his lip curled, "you profess to know the Dragon's whereabouts, is that it?"
His scorn stirred her anger. "I did not say that I know, milord. I am, however, acquainted with a man who does know." She gathered every scrap of her courage and went on boldly, "A pity you would refuse my help, milord. Because no man's sword is all-powerful. I daresay, even yours."
"So you are wise as well as beautiful. Milady, I begin to wonder what treasure I've stumbled upon."