My Rebellious Heart (26 page)

As if to mock her, her mind resurrected what Wil had told her that very first day ... the ladies al swoon for the chance to be his chosen one. Ah, and now she knew why—'twas for the sweet, piercing rapture to be had in his arms ...

Shana squeezed her eyes shut, wrenched with shame and self-loathing. She did not understand how she could despise Thorne so, yet experience such wondrous elation as she had last night. But the night had not blunted her hatred for him. Nay, it had only sharpened it further.

With but the sweeping stroke of a hand, the touch of persuasive lips, he had made her forget who he was and al that lay between them—that she was an unwil ing bride, and he a reluctant groom.

She would never forgive him.

She would never forgive herself.

A shadow blotted out the sunlight, alerting her to his presence. Her eyes opened to behold him towering over her, fully dressed now, strong hands on the jutting plane of hips. His stance was arrogant, his smile more arrogant still. Even as her fingers tightened instinctively on the coverlet, he threw back his head and let out a gusty laugh.

Shana glared at him. She did not understand his sudden good humor, nor would she share it.

"1 have a question for you, wife. Since I have married a princess, does that make me a prince?"

Everything in her rebel ed. "You are al you ever were, milord. As you said yourself last eve— no more, no less."

Thorne's smile vanished. Her tone, more than the words themselves, delivered an insult he could not ignore. "Let me guess," he drawled. "You think me a husband not befitting a princess. Ah, but your Barris ... now there is a man you deem worthy of you, eh?"

She sat up slowly, careful to keep the sheet clutched over her naked breasts. "Aye, and it was a love match—" she smiled, oh so sweetly, "unlike ours, milord."

Oh, she was so smug, his haughty little wife. Thorne's hands clenched at his sides. It was the only way he could keep from wringing her pretty little neck.

"Do not tel me," he jeered. "Your Barris would have wooed you with pretty words."

Her elegant nose tipped high. "Aye," she breathed with a lofty air, "for Barris is a man of honor—not a rutting beast such as you."

Rutting, was he! Thorne's temper boiled over. She had taken pleasure in the act—mayhap not as much as he—but he had pleased her, and he was

furious that she would deny it—as she would

deny him!

His jaw locked tight. "By God, woman," he said between clenched teeth. 1 took far greater care with you than I should have. I saw to your pleasure before my own, yet where is your thanks? Of a certainty you can expect no such consideration from me again!"

Her ire was now as keen as his own. "You expect my thanks for robbing me of my maidenhead?" She cried her outrage. "You took what belonged to another! Nor do you cherish it as a husband should! But then, I suppose 'tis too much to expect otherwise—for I am wed to a bastard!"

"And I to a shrew. It seems, we are wel matched after all." He spun around and strode toward the

door.

Her pillow hurtled toward that ramrod-straight back along with a startlingly vivid stream of oaths. But he was already gone, slamming the door so hard the rafters shook.

Shana burst into furious, bitter tears.

King Edward departed at midday, bound now for Scotland. Duty commanded she wish him a pleasant Godspeed, and so she did, feeling as if her face would crack. But while Shana was heartily glad to be rid of the king ...

The Lady Alice remained, awaiting her brother's arrival to escort her to London.

On her way back through the great hal , Shana could not help but think there was another reason the beauteous widow had chosen to stay. Mayhap it had something—everything?—to do with a handsome, black-haired earl favored by the king, for indeed, the lady had scarce left Thorne's side the entire morning.

Disturbed without knowing quite why, that very question filled her mind as she skirted the corner.

She col ided ful tilt with a smal body. Her eyes flew wide as the boy lost his balance and fell hard on his bottom.

It was Wil .

His baleful glare underwent a lightning transformation when he realized who had tripped him.

She saw many things in the instant before his chin dropped to nis chest—apprehension, defiance, guilt.

"It seems I must apologize yet again for toppling you. Wil ." She extended a hand as she spoke, careful to keep her tone deliberately light.

Shana thought he would refuse her assistance. He did not, but the instant he was on his feet, he withdrew his hand and began to back away "I must be off, milady, or—or Sir Gryffen wil wonder where I am." He spun around.

"Wil ," she said softly. "I bear you no malice."

He halted in mid-whirl, then slowly turned to face her. He raised his head, his gaze on the shining coronet atop her crown, the shoulder of her gown, everywhere but her face.

Something twisted inside her when she saw him swal ow. "You—you know, don't you?" He spoke so low she had to strain to hear. "That 'twas me who told the earl—"

"That I planned to flee him7 Aye," she said softly. "I know " It was her turn to hesitate. "It was wrong of me to ask you to help me, Wil , for I know how much you admire the earl, how loyal you are to him. But I truly thought you would be glad to have me gone ..." She broke off, for he was shaking his head.

A tiny frown pleated the smooth skin of her forehead. "I cannot think why else you'd have told him," she said slowly.

"I—I did not do it out of loyalty to the earl," he blurted. "At least, that's not the only reason I did it!" Wil eyed the rushes beneath his boots. He had not thought to feel either shame or guilt for di-

vulging Lady Shana's plan to escape, yet he'd thought of little else of late. Oh, he'd told himself he hated Lady Shana, despite her kindnesses to him. But he did not, he realized suddenly. And now she looked so—so sad, and it was all his fault!

"I—I did it to spite you," he said haltingly, then suddenly it was al coming out in a rush. "I—I betrayed you because I ... I felt as if you had betrayed me that first day we met... and you were Welsh ... and I—I liked you, milady. I thought you were kind because you—you felt the same! But then I hated you because you only sought to find out about the earl—and I felt awful because I had helped you lure him from Langley. And now—now methinks you truly have cause to hate me and 'tis no moTe than I deserve! You should never have tried to help me, milady. I'm just what Lord Newbury's squire said I am—a bastard. A worthless little beggar not fit to serve the earl—or anyone! So you might as wel just—just have me sent from here now!"

Stunned by his outburst, Shana stared down at his bent head. He was trying very hard to be brave, his thin hands fisted at his sides as he struggled hard not to cry.

She had been wrong, Shana acknowledged dimly. She'd thought Wil had accepted her overtures and was convinced of her sincerity. She hadn't realized he was still suspicious of her. Her soul cried out for him, for he thought himself unworthy. He was so young, she thought with a pang, so young and far too hard on himself! And, oh, it wasn't right that there was no one to love him, no one to care for him ...

Her throat achingly tight, she gripped his hands, uncaring of who might see, or what they might think. "I'll not have you sent away, Wil , and I'll

not let anyone else send you away. And do you know why?"

He shook his head mutely.

"Because I think," she said softly, "that you will someday be the finest knight in al of England." She quelled his protest with a shake of her head. "My father once said there was no greater measure of a man's worth than his honor and loyalty, and you have proved you have both, Wil . You told the truth of your own volition, when you might have lied or denied it.

And—oh, I know it may be too much to ask of you,"—her smile was as unsteady as her words—"but I would consider it an honor were you to cal me your friend, Wil ."

He gazed up at her, his expression solemnly intent. "I've never had a friend before," he said slowly, "but 'twould please me—'twould please me greatly."

Shana's smile was blindingly sweet. "Then I wil be your first. And you wil be my first English friend." Unbidden, Thorne's harsh features swam in her mind. For the life of her, Shana did not understand why it was so, for never would she cal him friend ...

Indeed, he was her greatest foe.

Wil ran off a moment later. Shana's heart gave a fierce leap of joy, for she could have sworn his eyes shone bright with pride.

But no joy dwel ed in her breast as the day wore on. Thorne demanded she lend him her presence throughout the evening, and then proceeded to ignore her. The Lady Alice sat on his left, next to Sir Geoffrey. She did a fine job of entertaining both men, both of whom scarce took their eyes off her the entire evening. Her new husband, she observed in disdain, could be quite the charming rogue when he so wished. He was attentive to Lady Alice's every word, smiling and nodding—

aye, even laughing with her, a sound she herself had yet to hear!

Shana gritted her teeth, discovering it was increasingly difficult to conceal her displeasure, for she was vastly irritated. It annoyed her still further that she did not know with whom she was more irritated—her husband or Lady Alice!

At length she could stand it no more. She stood abruptly, determined to leave the hall. He would never notice, she decided, engrossed as he was in his discourse with the simpering Lady Alice.

She was wrong. She was scarce on her feet than a hand shot out, shackling her about the wrist. In dismay she saw she now commanded his ful attention, but the smile which abounded for Lady Alice was wiped clean. Displeasure was clearly wnt on his harshly carved features. His voice was curt. "Where do you think you are going, milady?"

Shana did not seek to free herself from his relentless hold on her wrist, though she knew from the glitter in his eyes he expected it. "1 am wearied, milord. I would like to retire."

His diamond-hard gaze never slrayed from her face. "I wil join you shortly." He released her.

Eager to put some distance between them, she stepped back. "You need not hurry," she said sweetly. "I have no desire to intrude upon your hearty enjoyment of the evening." Her head held high, she swept from the room, but not before she glimpsed Lady Alice's tiny smile of triumph.

She was brushing her hair before the fire when the door creaked open. Thorne stood framed in the doorway, booted feet braced wide in a supremely masculine stance, his shoulders so wide they nearly spanned the width of the opening. It was on the tip of her tongue to inquire how he was able to tear himself away from Lady Alice. She did not, however. Instead she pressed her lips

together and turned her head aside, pulling the brush through the long strands and ignoring him.

In truth, she was shaken more than she cared to admit, for along with his entrance came a seething awareness. She had not expected him so soon; she'd hoped to be long since abed when he presented himself. Clad in only her thin linen shift, she felt vulnerable and exposed.

Her stomach knotted as he approached. Yet his words were not what she expected.

"We had word of Llywelyn's reaction to our marriage, princess."

His announcement had the desired effect. Her head came up. The brush went stil in her hands as she twisted around to face him. "What! What did he say?"

He smiled rightly. "He demands that the marriage be annul ed."

Her lips parted. Thorne could almost hear the thought that leaped in her mind, even as he spurned the leap of hope in her eyes. 'There will be no annulment," he informed her harshly.

The force of her fury brought her feet to the floor. She surged upright. "You refuse to even consider it?"

"Aye."

He uttered his verdict like a proclamation from the king. His harsh expression discouraged further argument, but Shana paid no heed. She was suddenly spitting with rage, thoroughly incensed at his high-handed refusal.

"And why is that, milord? Nay, do not tel me. You refuse to consider it only because Edward has not commanded it!"

Throne's lips thinned into an ominous line. He could not ignore her chal enge, for it was a scathing denunciation, evidenced by her cutting accusation, her militant stance, the defiant blaze in those beautiful silver eyes.

"The king has naught to do with it, princess." His tone was deceptively mild. "Indeed, an annulment is out of the question, for this marriage has already been consummated. I think I need not remind you of what took place between us here in this chamber ... in that very bed?"

His eyes lingered on the subject in question, as if in fond remembrance. Shana was not fooled. Bedding her had been naught but another conquest for him, and by God, she'd not dignify him with an answer.

A dark brow arched high. "Does your memory fail you, princess?" His smile widened at her silence. "Wel , then," he went on lightly. "Mayhap you need a reminder—"

"I need no reminder of what you did to me!"

He sighed. "Ah, yes, rutting beast that I am."

His eyes caught her in a brazenly thorough study-Feeling stripped to the bone, Shana longed to snatch up her gown from the floor and clutch it to her breast, yet to do so would brand her a coward. Nonetheless, she bent and reached for it, but the toe of his boot shoved it cleanly out of reach.

He snared her by the waist, his hands disturbingly warm, drawing her so that she stood between his booted feet. "Remember, princess? I kissed you so." She gasped when his mouth nipped gently at hers. "And then I touched you ... here, I believe." Strong fingers shaped themselves to her breast. His thumb swept across her nipple. She inhaled sharply.

His smile boasted his satisfaction. "Aye," he murmured, raising his head. "We may have been forced to wed, but I made you my wife with the greatest of pleasure—"