At The Warrior's Mercy. Denise LynnЧитать онлайн книгу.
tucked the edge of the cover beneath her shoulder and quickly stepped away, silently cursing his stupidity. What was he thinking? Had one missed night of sleep left him so dull-witted that he believed things best left alone could come true on a whim? What made him think just because this woman was interested that she would allow him such liberties?
He needed to face the facts. He was never going to have the marriage or future he’d long desired. Especially not with Warehaven’s heiress. Once all was said and done, not only would she never permit him such closeness, he’d be surprised if she sought anything other than his death.
While he didn’t know her well, he was fairly certain that she would devise some slow and painful way to send him to his grave.
Beatrice blinked her eyes open, squinting against the shaft of sunlight streaming in through the narrow window across her face.
She sprang upright on the bed, fighting off the lingering traces of sleep that left her uncertain of her whereabouts.
‘Good morning.’
The deep timbre of the voice greeting her to the day brought it all flooding back. She sank back down on to the bed, silently cursing her lengthy slumber. The intent had been to rise early so she could sneak away and find someone else to escort her to Warehaven.
Now with that chance lost, she would have to devise another plan that would permit her to arrive at Warehaven without his escort. In the meantime being rude would not serve her well.
‘And a good morning to you, too. I see you returned.’
‘Yes. You were asleep when I came back and I had no wish to wake you. So, let me now apologise for leaving so abruptly. It was troubling to find myself responsible for such a high-born heiress.’
Something about his explanation didn’t sit right, but she wasn’t going to argue with him about it. Instead she forced a laugh and sat back up. ‘Oh, yes, I am certain you find King David’s court lacking in high-born ladies.’
‘Ah, but I rarely find myself personally responsible for any of them.’
Beatrice swung her legs over the side of the bed away from him. ‘You are not responsible for me.’
Hadn’t she just decided not to be rude, or argue with him? Yet here she found herself eagerly fanning the flames of an argument. Why? If she were to be honest with herself, she was doing it for no reason other than the fact that she liked the sound of his voice, especially now when it had a gravelly tone as if he, too, had just been roused from sleep.
‘Oh, but I am. I would be remiss in my duties if I were to knowingly permit a granddaughter of old King Henry’s to travel without so much as a guard.’
Beatrice rolled her eyes, and stood to shake out her gown. ‘A grandfather I met but twice.’
‘I would imagine your grandfather had a few more important things to tend to than playing with his grandchildren.’
She couldn’t help smiling at the memory his comment drew forth.
‘What do you find amusing now?’
‘Amusing? Nothing really. I was just remembering the first time he came to Warehaven.’
‘It must have been an enjoyable visit to produce such a smile.’
‘I think I was three or four at the time. The only thing I actually remember is sitting on his lap and playing with a small wooden horse he’d given me. He was the brave knight on the horse coming to rescue the Princess Beatrice.’
Gregor frowned. ‘Not exactly an image I can fathom.’
She shrugged. ‘He wasn’t at court and, besides the ship’s crew, he had only brought a few guards with him, so I’m certain the time spent at Warehaven had been more of a break from his usual responsibilities than any official visit.’
‘While that is a nice memory for you, King Henry is not here to take responsibility for you. As unworthy as I may be, I am all you have and I will see to my duty.’
Obviously he was as eager to argue as she. Turning to face him more directly, she put her hands on her hips and shook her head. ‘As a warrior for King David you are far from unworthy and I cannot have someone in such an exalted position act as a mere servant. Surely you have more important matters to attend for your King. I can find someone more suited to the position of guard. Someone of less...importance.’
He rose from his seat on the bench, not bothering to smother his laugh as he had last night. ‘Perhaps someone less apt to inform your parents of what you’ve done?’
Oh, this Wolf was quite cunning. ‘Well, yes, there is that.’
‘Since doing so would only direct their focus to me, fear not as I have no intention of informing your parents of this little...journey. And as I am more than suited to guard the safety of Warehaven’s daughter, I am...’ he paused to bow before finishing ‘...willingly at your service, my lady.’
‘I wish not to deter you from your duty to your King, as this journey would do.’
‘Since I am already on my way to Roul Keep in Normandy to visit my brother, a side-trip to Warehaven will in no way deter me from my duty.’
His statement confused her. ‘Your lands are in Normandy?’ How was it then that he served King David instead of Matilda, or her husband Geoffrey of Anjou?
‘No. My home is a small isle off the coast of Scotland.’ Gregor shook his head. ‘It came as a surprise for me to have recently learned that my older brother Elrik has been granted the Norman earldom of Roul and I plan on finding out how that came about in person. So you see, you are in no way keeping me from any service to my King.’
She’d known full well before embarking on this verbal chess game she wasn’t going to win. However, his dogged determination to see her to Warehaven was beginning to bring her worries to the fore once again.
‘You travel all the way from King David’s court to Normandy alone?’ Granted, Matilda was in control of the lands south from Oxford and east of the Thames, but there was much of Stephen’s land to cross between Carlisle and Oxford. It would be risky for him to do so alone even if he had a writ of safe passage.
He opened the door to the chamber, letting the sound of men talking flow more freely into the room. ‘My men are below.’
‘Yet mere hours ago you were alone.’
‘No. Like you I had escaped.’ He shrugged, then explained, ‘I have a penchant for desiring time alone when I need to think or to plan.’
His response set her heart racing. What was this Wolf up to that required such secretive planning on his part?
Before she could ask, he said, ‘I am but a lowly shipbuilder by trade. None of my men would be of any use in the planning phase of my projects. In truth they would prove more of a hindrance, so on occasion I slip away to do nothing more than dwell on my own projects.’ One expressive eyebrow rose and he asked, ‘Can you now understand my willingness to visit Warehaven?’
Beatrice studied him. A warrior and a shipbuilder. No wonder his muscles were so well honed and his hands calloused. While he could be telling the truth about his reason for wanting to visit Warehaven—it was, after all, a very valid one for someone who built ships—a nagging worry in the pit of her stomach cautioned her to be wary.
He’d told her that her expression would give away any lie she might attempt to tell. However, his expression rarely changed—other than a winging of a brow, or the twitch of amusement teasing at his lips, she couldn’t determine whether he spoke the truth or not. And after her experience with Charles, she had no business trying to judge any man’s honesty. Since he’d done nothing thus far to cause alarm, the only thing she could do was to take his words at