Page 33 of Once Upon a Castle
“I have every right. I rescued you, and now you will make yourself useful to me. Before this night is over, Lady Arianne, you are going to explain your hatred of me. And much else besides. Don’t even think of sleep for many hours, for we have much to discuss,” he told her roughly.
“Oh? Do you plan to help me, then?” she inquired, her wrist burning from the touch of his fingers. And for some reason the heat still had not left her face.
“My plans are my concern. You will answer my questions and do as you are told.”
“You mistake the matter. I am in charge of this rescue, my lord. I am working closely with Felix, my brother’s captain, who is even now assembling Marcus’s men to retake Galeron as soon as Marcus is freed. At this late date, if you wish to throw in with us, it is necessary foryouto answer tome.”
Her violet eyes locked on his gray ones. There was no wavering in them, no uncertainty.
So,Nicholas thought, taking in not only the wide violet gaze but also the delicate line of her jaw, her blazing cheeks, and thick, spiraling curls that shimmered like a red-gold sunset in the firelight.The child with the braids and freckles and soiled tunic has grown into a slender, heart-stoppingly lovely warrior-woman. He fought a smile.
“The freckles,” he said musingly.
“I beg your pardon?”
He released her wrist, and his hand went to her chin. Very gently, he tilted it up so that he could better examine her.
“You’ve lost nearly all your freckles, Arianne. Save for a mere dusting across your nose. And a most comely little nose it is, may I add.”
She jerked back. Her face felt hot where he had touched it. “If you think to soften me with flattery, you’re sadly mistaken. I told you already, you will not turn my head with words, my lord. I am not a stupid maid who will come all undone because you have directed your attentions to me.”
His brows rose again. He looked puzzled.
“There are serious matters afoot,” she rushed on, lest she indeed become distracted by his touch, by the admiration in his words. Foolish first loves died hard. But hers was dead now, she told herself. Completely dead. The only thing she wanted from Nicholas was aid in freeing Marcus.
“We must plan. However much we may dislike one another, if you are interested in helping me to rescue Marcus, we must work together.”
“Very well. But my friend would never forgive me if I were to let his little sister freeze to death. For the last time, Arianne, go and sit before that fire, and then we’ll talk.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
He cursed under his breath in exasperation and grasped her arm. He hauled her to the low stool near the fire and pushed her roughly down upon it. “Stay there. And drink this.”
The flask he pulled from his pocket was silver, she noted, glaring at it and at him. There were rich carvings upon it and small encrusted jewels. A contrast to his peasant clothes.
“If you argue with me,LadyArianne, I will pour this wine down your throat. The entire flask. Nowdrink!”
Arianne drank. She did not doubt that he would carry out his threat. Everything about him suggested barely leashed violence and deep, cold anger. The truth was, it did feel good to sit here before the fire. She was frozen to the bone. As she stretched her hands toward the flames, she felt the warmth returning to her limbs, flowing through her in lovely golden waves. And the wine…the wine burned her throat with its own sweet fire.
Spirits always made her drowsy, and she didn’t want to be drowsy. She needed to be alert, to keep her eye on Nicholas lest he vanish again before she could wrest from him a promise to help her. She needed to be on guard against any soldiers who might find the cottage and seek to question her. She needed to plan, to think, to come up with a new course of action—and quickly.
Yet, as the wine and the fire warmed her, a relaxed weariness stole over her, despite her best efforts to resist it.
She yawned. She couldn’t help it, it just happened, a small, delicate, catlike yawn, but Nicholas saw it and scowled.
“You look half dead.”
“More flattery,” she mumbled.
“You need rest.”
“No. I need…” Another yawn, quickly stifled. “…to talk to you.”
“You always were troublesome as a gnat, even as a child, Arianne. I never gave it much thought, but I suppose it stands to reason you’d turn into a stubborn, troublesome woman.” He stripped off his heavy cloak and draped it over her shoulders, then took back the flask still clutched in her fingers.
He tilted it up and enjoyed a long drink.
“If you wish to talk, then we’ll talk,” he told her curtly. “I have a great many questions, and I consider it a stroke of good fortune that I came upon you tonight—because you can answer them for me.”
