A Love Unveiled

Chapter Seventeen

  

            Alana slept very little throughout the night. She worried for Nettie and what would become of her cousin in the hands of Normans. She envisioned, countless times over in her mind, the day Normans, the same Normans had attacked her village and she came upon Nettie nearly destroyed.

            These images plagued her throughout the night and kept slumber at bay. When she did sleep, she did so restlessly, disarranging the thick coverlets on her surprisingly comforting bed.

            Fallon had placed her, to her surprise, in what appeared, a suitable guest chamber. The chamber was of adequate size with newly purchased furniture, for she noticed not a speck of dust blemished the smooth, mahogany surfaces.

            The bed was fit for a man of extreme size. Sheer drapes enclosed the four-poster bed were now drawn aside to reveal a thick, plush mattress and over-stuffed pillows.

            Her amazement at her lavished enclosure was short-lived. She was a prisoner and should think of only escaping. She had once made the mistake of not putting others before herself and because of that grave error, her village was gone and people she had loved were now dead; dead because of Fallon.

            With a renewed anger, she paced the chamber, waiting anxiously for her captor. She was finding it difficult to keep her anger at bay for though Fallon had broken his vow in keeping her village safe, his demeanor foretold of tenderness beneath his golden exterior-she shook her head to dismiss the notion.

            What was she thinking? He was a Norman. His army had attacked her village. He was called ‘The Fury’ for an adamant reason. Could he truly be the unyielding savage possessing a rage so destructible that he quelled thousands on the battle field with his mighty sword?

            She shivered at the thought. She did not want to think of war.

            She sank onto the bed and stared vacantly across the room. Her stomach grumbled hungrily. It was well past dawn and she was beginning to feel a slight anxiety build. Was she to remain in this gilded room for long?

            As if on queue, she detected the heavy fall of a man’s approach from the outside of her door.

            She gathered to her full height and leveled her gaze patiently on the large door. She was oddly deterred by the wild, thumping of her heart and attempted to bring a steady breath into her lungs. Why was she suddenly so unnerved?

            And she knew in that moment, when the latch lifted and the door swung wide, producing the object of her uneasiness.

            Immediately her pulse quickened and she felt a slight weakening in her knees. She had never seen a man more handsome, more powering than the towering, golden Norman standing before her. She wanted to hate him but strangely, her heart yearned for something unknown but something she was not sure she was ready to acknowledge.

            She watched him through narrowed eyes as he slowly closed the door behind him. When he turned back around, he merely stared at her with those burning, amber eyes. She grew uneasy beneath his bold, golden stare and slowly felt her bravado waning.