They rode in silence. She sat rigidly straight, trying to keep her distance from him. A little agitated with her behavior, he tightened his grip around her waiste and pulled her closer to him. Bothered by his touch, her resistance gained her nothing, she gave in to his hold and slouched back against his chest. The immediate contact made him stiffen. His warmth at her back only made her situation worse, the contact and it's intimacy only heightened her awareness of his muscular form pressed against her. It was a sensation she did not want to dwell on because he infuriated her. The farther away she was from him the better.
It was a mistake, he fumed. To have her this close had his senses in an upheaval. He slowly inhaled the aroma of her hair. It was a scent that had his body on edge with a desire to just bury his face in it. He would surely loose his mind if she moved any closer, he thought, fiercely gritting his teeth against the urge to just take her here in the forest played havoc with his mind.
The slow movements of the horse and the sway pushed their bodies closer and it was agonizingly too much for them both.
Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as he placed her on his stallion, sat behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Why did his touch have so much of an affect on her? She didn't even like him. She detested him.
She hated him.
All the way back she battled with the panick that rose in her and she began to fidget.
He roughly tightened his arm around her.
"Be still!" he hissed.
The keep came into view as they rode up to the porticullis and crossed over the large moat that surrounded the keep.
The large entrance gates opened as they rode through.
He reined the horse into the stable and dismounted. With no warning his large hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the horse and placed her on the ground before him.
He faced heated tears of frustration that glided down her beautiful face before she wiped them away with her bound hands.
He snorted. "Save your tears, they do not move me."
Duncan cut the rope around her wrists. Turning her around, he commanded her to walk forward. Reluctantly she moved. Her gaze looked around the courtyard.
"Dont even think it," he growled.
She turned to face him. Tears held their place while she looked up at him.
"I hate you," she croaked in a low breath.
"I care not for your feelings towards me," he stated bluntly, before pointing his fingers to the greathalls entrance.
"Now go!" He commanded her.
She shook her head vehemently and refused to move.
Their gazes tangled furiously. His jaw clenched.
She infuriated him with her defiant way. She fought his hold and was ready to confront him again. She would fight him to the bitter end if she had too and he knew it.
"You try my patience, wench now move," he growled.
"And you try mine, you son of a bitch," she cried out in a frustrated sob.
With an agitated curse he quickly wrapped his fingers around her throat, the desire to just squeeze her windpipes in her lovely neck worked him. But she did not move, or even put up a fight in his hold.
"Do it, just kill me and be done with it," her lips trembled and slowly turned into a satisfying grin with the decision of ending her life.
He scowled at such a request and immediately released her, she was goading him.
YOU ARE READING
Misplaced Angel (Slowly Editing)Historical Fiction
A fierce Knight... Known for his victorious battles on the field by day and his prowess by night, Lord Duncan of Chaswick, fierce Knight and Warrior had no idea how much his life would change. Standing before him in his chapel the most alluring, s...