As Alana returned inside, she released the breath she had been holding. Mayhap, she wondered fretfully, she had overstepped her limitations. What had prompted such a reaction from her? Why did it matter to her if these men marred each other with swords?
She knew her reasons though she’d rather not acknowledge them. Closing her eyes she took a moment to steady her breath. Violence was senseless, a picture that rushed to mind, was so quick to remind her so. She was frozen in that nightmare, the lives of so many taken tragically.
“Stupid girl!” Alana whirled around, startled, as an angry Matilda stormed into the hall, wagging a finger in her face. “Do you realize what you have done? No thrall has ever dared to behave in such a manner! I will not have it, do you hear? I will not be accountable because of a Saxon miss whose brain is addled! You will learn your place. You-“
“Silence, haggard!” both women stiffened as a man’s voice penetrated the corridor.
Immediately the older woman withdrew and curtsied to the man standing in the shadows. “My apologies, Master Curran-“ Matilda straightened and began backing away as Curran stepped into the light, his gray eyes peering coldly at the older woman, who appeared genuinely fearful of the man.
“You are dismissed.” He said and Matilda immediately hastened to escape his presence.
Feeling very much cornered and suddenly wary of the warrior, Alana attempted to do the same but as sly as the wolf he resembled, he captured her arm with striking adeptness.
Those gray eyes seem to transform in the light, flaring extraordinary silver. “You have no need to run.” He said softly with a tone that lacked gentleness. “I would have a word with you.”
Alana studied him in silent, slightly taken aback. If not for his known dealings in cruelty, she would have considered him remarkably handsome, but his certain merciless nature diverted her opinion.
“I have no interest in anything you have to say, Norman.” She tried pulling free but his grip stayed her efforts.
He grinned a wolfish grin, “My brother is quite taken with you.” Reluctantly he released his grip and stepped around her, his silver eyes drawn to her mouth. “He is not usually affronted with rejection-“ he chuckled deeply, “-you are a conquest he seeks to conquer.”
Her temper flaring she turned to face him. “I will not be a triumph!”
He stepped toward her and she found herself retreating despite her determination to stand her ground. His silver eyes swept over her frame in a heated stroke. “My brother is not the only man that wishes to conquer you, Saxon.”
Green eyes narrowed sharply, “Not ever, Norman.”
He stepped toward her and Alana flinched, prompting a crooked smile that curved his cruel lips but any retort was left unsaid as a large, menacing shadow appeared in the hall.
Alana stiffened as her eyes shifted to Fallon. He appeared angry.
“Is their something you need from the Lady, brother?” he growled ominously as he came to stand between them, gold eyes burning into a pair of cold gray ones.
Curran’s grin widened, “I was merely asking for the Lady’s assistance, she is a healer is she not?”
Fallon accessed him with suspicion. “You have sufficed worse.”
Silver eyes shifted past Fallon’s shoulder. “Mayhap it pleases me to have the Lady tend my wounds.”
“Find another.” Fallon hissed as he grasped Alana’s arm and started down the hall, pulling her along.
Alana spared a glance over her shoulder and was unnerved by Curran’s dark expression. When they turned the corner and lost sight of him, Alana couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved and comforted by Fallon’s presence.
Peering up at Fallon, she noticed the tension in his jaw, felt the anger in his grip and formidable stance.
When they reached her room, he released her and she backed away, rubbing at her arm where his fingers had been. She studied him as he crossed the room, his anger seeping from his livid frame.
She was unsure, but she sensed his anger was directed more so at Curran than herself. “You are angry with him.”
“Aye.” It had not been a question but he seemed compelled to reply.
“He provokes you.” She stepped toward him, noticing the distinct tautness of his shoulders. “You would fight him like that?”
He turned around to peer at her, “If I am challenged, I have no other choice but to accept.”
“Even your brother?”
“My brother is a fool.” Fallon snapped. “I merely accepted to teach him a lesson.”
“Why does he challenge you?”
“Why would any man challenge another?” he said, “He is envious.”
“But he is your brother-“
“Half-brother.” He cut in, “His mother had been a slave from a neighboring village.”
Alana stepped forward, “What happened to his mother?”
Fallon stared at the wall with a distant look. “I know little of the woman. My brother does not speak of her or of her whereabouts.”
Alan’s heart tightened, “Does it not pain him?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Fallon replied flatly. “Curran is a man of many secrets unbeknownst to me. He confides in no one.”
She reached out and gingerly touched his shoulder. He turned to face her and she was captured in his golden stare. “And you, Norman, do you have secrets?”
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You wish to unravel me, fiery one?”
“I wish to know the man beneath the mask called ‘The Fury’.” Even after she said the words, she knew she meant them, truly wanted to understand this man that many feared, this warrior whom she seemed undeniably drawn too.
His amber eyes moved over her face, studying her intently. “There is a price.”
She stiffened and stepped away from him and was startled when he released a deep rumble of laughter. “Are you amused, Norman?” she snapped irritably.
“Aye, sweet lass.” His gold eyes twinkled with mirth as he stepped around her, “You must learn to smile. It does wonders for your beauty.”
“You expect me to smile when you suggest compensation in exchange for my inquisitiveness?”
He chuckled, “I am merely teasing you, Alana.”
She studied him narrowly, “I know how to laugh.” She snapped. “I don’t need a Norman to tell me I can’t.”
“I never said-“
“Oh, bother!” she flounced away from him, clearly vexed.
“Alana!” he rushed for her but was overcome with a fit of laughter, further riling her.
She rounded on him, fists curled, face flushed as she yelled, “Arrogant cad! I’m glad I amuse you!” she pummeled his chest and was satisfied by its solidness. “You pompous brute!”
His laughter filled the room and Alana, despite her best efforts, was smiling as he ducked her flailing fists. “You forget ‘Norman pig’!”
“Ah!” she struck aimlessly at his head and he effortlessly tucked and rolled, his forearm encasing her waist, pulling her in momentum to the floor.
Her head rested gently against his forearm and he kept his weight from crushing her as their laughter genially merged, kindling a spark of awareness and a rush of warmth that flowed pleasantly through their embraced bodies.
Her laughter died in her throat as she stared into those liquid gold eyes. He stared at her as if sunlight flowed in the iris of his eyes. He took the breath from her lungs with the slightest touch. Each breath hindered with his closeness.
She knew the moment he would kiss her. Her body craved his touch, yearned for his kiss. He captured her lips with sweet gentleness. She was pleasantly surprised and yet, she knew this man existed beneath the one called ‘The Fury’. His hands pulled gently at her fiery strands; his fingers trailing the length of her tresses as he favored her with soft kisses.
She arched against him, reveling in the solid length of him stretched above her. She was willing to give herself into the fervent desires incited by each touch and his every caress. She wanted to explore the wondrous things he roused in her. She wanted to forget for a moment that he was her enemy, her captor. Alana believed she would have given herself to him if not for the sudden pounding on the chamber door.
Just like that. The fire diminished.
She knew her face was reddened and she made an attempt to right her hair. The pounding persisted at the door and by the vexed look on Fallon’s face; he was clearly not pleased with the interruption.
Alana however, took it as a foretoken. Even now her body still craved for something that only Fallon could appease and the thought made her blush clear to her toes. She was a clever and intelligent woman, but when it came to desires shared between a man and a woman, she was as naïve as they come.
She turned her back to the door as Fallon jerked it open with enough force to startle the messenger in the hall. “What is it?” he growled to the man on the other side.
“Beg your pardon, milord-“ spoke the little man outside the door, “-a visitor has arrived at Linden.”
Fallon frowned, “I received no missive-“
“She claims she is your betrothed, milord.”
**********