A Love Unveiled

Chapter Fifteen

  

              "What goes here, Curran?" Fallon demanded his face a mask of barely suppressed rage.

            Alana's eyes hardened as the man called Curran stepped toward them, his silver-gray eyes taking on a wolfish gleam as they trailed leisurely down the length of her.

            She felt her stomach twist beneath his bold perusal and lifted her chin to glare more directly at him. Her defiance seemed to only excite him further for his mouth curled cruelly at the corners.

            An inclination warned her that this man was very different from Fallon; the aura around him seemed dark and merciless. Something in her heart told her to be wary of the warrior.

            She knew she had other reasons to fear him. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she was quick to notice that Nettie had gone deathly white in the saddle. These were the men that had attacked her cousin. His men, she thought, her eyes settling on the golden Norman at her side.

            "Answer me." Fallon growled.

            "I am merely doing what you have failed to do." Curran snapped, drawing his attention away from the woman. "Do you condone your peasants to live freely on your land?"

            Fallon's face darkened noticeably, "What do you say?"

            "He is a pathetic farmhand. He has not paid his dues and his fields are lacking." Curran smirked inwardly as he added, "He has little regard to your decree."

            "Nay, milord!" cried the helpless woman struggling anew against her captor. Her dark eyes pleaded mercifully with Fallon. "Please, milord, my husband has taken ill and has been unable to work-"

            Fallon held up his hand to silence the woman and immediately her face went ashen. Alana's heart quivered against her chest. Surely he wouldn't punish the poor farmer because he was ill?

            Fallon turned to Curran, "You should have waited for my return." He said without emotion. "What's done is done. The man has taken his punishment."
            Curran's expression darkened with censure. "Your leniency is wasted-" he said low enough for only Fallon and Alana's ears alone. "-you need to make an example of them." He fell silent and waited for Fallon to do so, but when he did not, this only seemed to anger Curran more.

            Turning sharply, he handed the whip to one of his men standing off to the side and approached the farmer's young wife.

            Alana's heart wrenched against her chest as he grabbed the woman by her hair and jerked her against him.

            "Curran!" Fallon growled dangerously, his big body teeming with fury.

            The woman cried out as she struggled against him but Curran seemed unaware as he turned dark, stormy eyes on Fallon. "If you refuse to make an example, then I'll gladly oblige you." With that, he reached down and unsheathed a small dagger and brought the blade to the girl's throat.

            Alana reacted on pure instinct. Her heart demanded she intervene and it took little convincing. Reaching down, she grabbed the large hilt of Fallon's sword and drew it from its scabbard. She had not anticipated how heavy the sword would be and nearly faltered beneath its weight, but the girl's soft pleas empowered her and she moved with a deftness that surprised even her.