My Rebellious Heart (27 page)

Oh, the arrogant lout! He was so smug, so certain that she would fall at his feet—like the Lady Alice seemed wont to do! She shoved at his chest, hating the way he

touched her with blatant intimacy, as if he owned her! "Pleasure from one such as you! Nay, milord—" her tone was biting. "You are not such a great lover as you think, that you so readily mistake a woman's disgust for pleasure."

She had just done the unthinkable—struck a blow to his masculine pride, a fierce one, at that. Inexperienced as she was, Shana did not realize it... until he went utterly still.

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, something that frightened her. She tried to pull back, but he held her fast.

His fingers bit into the soft flesh of her waist. For a never-ending moment their eyes clashed.

Then, to her shock, he stepped back and began to disrobe. Shana gaped numbly as, piece by piece, his clothing dropped to the floor, until he was naked.

Naked ... and aroused.

Shana had but one thought. She whirled and bolted for the door, but he moved like lightning.

She was caught and hauled up against his naked chest, her thighs welded against his, her breasts crushed against the hardness of his chest. The tension that gripped his features flooded her with terror.

An ugly smile twisted his lips. "What!" he mocked. "Are you afraid, princess? There are some who say a little fear in a wife is a good thing."

"I do not fear you," she cried rashly. "I have naught but contempt for you!"

His hands were like a vise around her waist. She sought to pummel his chest but he did not al ow it. He snared her wrists and tumbled her down on the bed. His mouth came down on hers, searing her lips with a kiss of bruising passion.

She gave a low moan, awash with humiliation. God, how she hated him, yet no more than she

hated herself For he turned her pride into weakness, her resistance into submission. The knowledge was bitterly galling, for she had always counted herself strong and in control of her deb-tiny. Always ... until now.

This day had seen her vow he would not find her such easy prey as he had last night. She'd told herself over and over that she'd been afraid of the unknown—of what he would do to her —and so she had let him have his way. But now she knew what to expect, and she could not surrender ...

not again.

Her shift was ripped from her body, leaving her as naked as he. His scouring gaze raked over her, brazen and bold, leaving no part of her untouched. His eyes were dark and fever-bright, afire with scorching desire. Knees alongside her hips, he straddled her, pinning her beneath him. Her face aflame, she trembled at the sight of his swol en staff. He was huge, hot, hard, and hungry. Sensing the raw, implacable purpose in him, Shana knew a desperation beyond anything that had

gone before.

Her thoughts ran wild. Last night he had been gentle. Oh, she knew the difference now, and he had been right, she realized in dread. He had taken every care with her. He had been determined—not ruthless. But now oh, this was neither desire nor lust—this was indeed a punishment!

Fear lent her a feeble courage. She sought to twist away, to free herself from the prison of iron-hard thighs, pounding wildly at his chest. "Let me go, you bastard! I did not want this marriage ... Do you hear? I do not want this—I do not want you!"

He captured her flailing wrists and bore them to the mattress. His features were set in a cold, hard mask. Only his eyes betrayed the depth of his fury. They burned like the fiery pits of hell itself.

And indeed Thorne was angry. There was a primitive pounding in his head lie was furious with her for tempting him, for making him want her, then denying him as if he were the lowliest of creatures-He wanted to strike out at her, to hurt her as she had hurt him.

His laughter was a terrible sound. "It's too late, princess. I made you my bride yesterday, and you wil be my wife ... in this and every other way."

She couldn't look away as he reared between her thighs. His gaze stabbed hotly into hers ...

and so did his thrusting manhood. Shana cried out with the force of his penetration, more in shock than pain. Tears stung her eyes, tor she was so very aware of how deeply imbedded was his turgid length within her.

Time spun out endlessly, and stil he did not move. Her body soon yielded—he was no longer an alien spear that rent her asunder—but her spirit did not And as the seconds mounted, so did her resentment She haled his intimacy, hated knowing he was a part of her.

She hated that he possessed her body in a way no other ever had, not even Barris. Ah, but he would find no warmth in her tonight. He would find her brittle as bone.

Thorne was incensed at her ploy—and just as determined to overcome it, He filled his hands with the bounty of her breasts. His tongue blazed a fiery path to each throbbing peak. With his tongue he gauged the frenzied pulse at the base of her throat. But she vehemently denied him the sweetness of her mouth, deliberately wrenching her head aside.

His anger kindled anew. Oh, he longed to leave her unfulfil ed and unsatisfied, but the storm of desire inside him was unbridled now. Driven by raging passion, he drove into her hard and deep, faster and faster. She did not fight him, but neither did she yield. He had no choice but to ride out the

tempest within him while she lay passive beneath him, her face turned away, her eyes squeezed shut as if she could not bear the sight of him.

He swore viciously. Damn her soul to hell and back! She was ever haughty and aloof—cold to the very marrow of her bones! And then even that thought was lost as he gritted his teeth.

The world exploded al around him. With a groan that spoke more of defeat than satisfaction, his seed spewed violently within her.

His chest was stil heaving as he fell beside her. Her eyes opened then, brimming with tears, even as they cursed and accused. Her wounded look stabbed like a blade, even as he cursed her for driving him to this, and himself for his lack of control.

Their eyes col ided again as she rescued the sheet from where it lay twisted about her ankles. He propped himself up on an elbow as she quickly pulled it around her nakedness.

"Do you think me so ensnared by your beauty that you must hide yourself from me? I've seen all there is to see and judged you no fairer than any other. Aye," he went on, his gaze scraping over her. "Princess or no, Shana, you are as any other woman—and any other woman wil do."

"1 wil pray daily that I shal be so spared." Her tone was as frigid as his.

A dark, brooding shadow slipped over him. "Oh', you need not worry on that score. By God, I vow I'll not touch you again lest you ask for it— nay, beg for it!" His tone was as cutting as his eyes. "Indeed, you are of little use to me as a wife—aye, even less as a woman! 'Tis clear you wil offer no comfort in the night, no pleasure in bed. A man wants a woman who is not afraid to show some warmth, aye, even passion! You, princess—" his lip curled, "you rouse naught in me save my temper! But I've done my duty as a

husband, so while you are at your prayers, pray that you have already conceived that you may do yours as a wife. For I shudder to think of laying again with a cold-hearled witch with no feelings save her own!"

Conceived! ... A shock tore through her. She relived the shudder that had racked his form.

Only now did she grasp the significance of the wet spurting heat that accompanied it. She quickly relinquished the thought, for she could not bear to think of creating a child with this cal ous, hurtful man. Oh, but he was cruel to taunt her so—and after what he had just done!

"I wil make you sorry," she announced in a low, throbbing voice. He did not bother to veil his contempt. Why should she? "Mark my words, milord. You will rue the day you married me!"

"Princess," he said coolly. "I do already." He snuffed out the candle and climbed back into the bed. Shana lay huddled on her side, her back as inflexible as a wall of stone. Who, he wondered with a trace of bitterness, had won this battle? Not she. And certainly not he.

ou are of little use to me as a wife—aye, even less as a woman! 'Tis clear you wil offer no comfort in the night, no pleasure in bed. A man wants a woman who is not afraid to show her man some warmth, aye, even passion! ... I shudder to think J must couple again with a cold-hearied witch with no feelings save her own!

It was odd how those words, flung at her in anger, stil had the power to prick her sorely. Oh, she told herself that spite was behind Thorne's verbal attack. His sole intent was to get back at her for failing to respond to his lovemaking, to hurt her ...

And he had.

Was she truly as cold, as unfeeling, as he had charged? It was true he brought out a side to her no other had ever seen, for never had her temper been stirred so often—or so readily— as it had been these past weeks. But it was only what he deserved! Nor, she decided indignantly, was she without mercy or compassion, or greedy as Thorne seemecl to think!

But he'd also made her feel like the ugliest hag alive. Shana had never considered herself a great beauty, but the next morning she searched out a looking glass to see if she'd sprouted some hideous deformity. She could find none, though she

decided her skin stretched more tightly across her cheeks than before. Later she'd anxiously asked Wil and Sir Gryffen if they found her distasteful to look upon. Gryffen had eyed her rather sharply, while Wil was unfailingly blunt—she looked no different than before.

But the seed of doubt had been planted. Thorne had made her feel so unsure of herself, inadequate in a way she didn't ful y understand.

Nor did she understand why it even mattered what he thought of her ... she only knew that it did.

Wil and Sir Gryffen were her only salvation over the course of the next few days. But while she felt that Wil was gradual y becoming more open and trusting, her new husband grew ever more distant.

It was late when he sought their bed these past two nights. Shana was always awake, though she pretended not to be They lay in silence, their enmity the only link between them.

Shana told herself she was heartily glad he did not force his attentions on her ...

Ah, but there was the rub. While she thoroughly detested the man himself, she did not hate his touch ...

Nor did she find him disgusting. Oh, she tried her best to deny the rapture she had found in his arms on their wedding night... but she had not forgotten it. Her memory proved far too vivid for her peace of mind. She had only to catch a glimpse of him to recal in scorching detail the things he had done to her—the secret, hidden places he had touched and caressed, the stark yearning he had awakened in her, the forbidden excitement. Even the second night he had spawned a restless ache inside, despite her determination to remain passive and aloof. She had clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt, for it had

been all she could do not to twine her arms around his neck and cry out her pleasure.

But if Thorne was not out with his knights, he was with Lady Alice, or so it appeared to Shana. She told herself Alice was welcome to him, faithless beast that he was! But if that was true, why did the sight of them together make her insides knot into a cold, hard lump?

She could hardly breathe, nor eat and drink, for the strange tightness that seized her chest.

And why, though she was quick to avert her eyes, did the image of the two of them together remain etched in her mind for hours afterward?

She watched them walk outside the wal s one day. Her gaze was riveted to Thorne, though she willed it not. He was darkly, wickedly handsome. Alice was sensual and graceful, with ripe, voluptuous curves. She possessed a sultry, bewitching beauty that Shana could never hope to match. Indeed, taunted a niggling little voice inside, Lady Alice and Thorne, both so dark and compelling, made a striking couple. A shaft of some strange, unknown emotion pierced her chest

No one was more relieved than Shana when Lady Alice's brother final y arrived the next day.

In the bailey, Lady Alice slid her arms around Thorne's neck and kissed him ful upon the lips Shana began to simmer, though she must surely give, credit where credit was due. For while Thorne did naught to encourage it, he was hardly a reluctant participant. Scalding color heated her cheeks, her entire body. She was stung that Thorne cared not how deeply he shamed her, tor who would dare allow this rapidly escalating kiss to so linger—and in front of his wife yet!

She stared at the corner tower, the endless stretch of sky above, everywhere but at the two of them. In al her life, she could not think when she had been so humiliated. It was one thing to be

treated with such cal ous disregard. It was another for him to ignore her presence, as if she were not even there! Which was worse? she wondered bitterly. To be a wife scorned? Or a wife who was as nothing—who did not even exist?

Never had she been so confused. She didn't understand why her chest hurt so, why it hurt even to breathe! She didn't understand why she even cared that Thorne trifled with another.

She had to forcibly remind herself that he was her fiercest enemy—that 'twas he who had given the order that had seen her father and so many others slain!

So why was there a secret part of her that ached for his kiss, sweetly lingering; for the touch of his hands on her naked flesh, tender and caressing ...

Lady Alice's voice intruded. "You must come down to London as soon as you are able, Thorne." Her hand lay claim to the tanned hol ow of his cheek now, her lips stil moist from his. Her laugh was low and suggestive. "We do miss you so at court . . . oh, and of course he shall bring you, Lady Shana."

This last was clearly an afterthought. With an effort Shana held fast to her simmering temper.

"You shal have to prepare yourself, though, dear. There are more than a few two-legged wolves at court—and despite your tender youth some might find you a rather tasty meal, eh, Thorne?"