The Commander's Desire (14 page)

Elwytha focused, heart pounding, on the
vulnerable point in his neck. She had only one chance before he
finished her life.

She waited as he advanced one step, two, and
then she whipped back her blade. But the Commander moved far
faster. His knife hurtled through the air. A scream of terror
wrenched from her throat, and then his dagger hit her blade,
wresting it from her fingers. Both clattered to the floor.

He advanced toward her, his mutilated face a
fearsome mask. Gray eyes flashed the fury of a winter storm. Before
she could lunge aside, he finished the distance and gripped her
wrists, forcing them together.

“
No,” She struggled hard.
“No, you bastard!”

His fingers tightened, paining her. He held
them with one hand, while the other scooped a blade from the
floor.

Horror spiraled within her. What atrocity
would he force upon her now? She collapsed to her knees. He would
have to drag her to her fate.

“
Stand,” he snarled. “I
would speak to you.”

“
Nay.” She wrestled for
freedom with all of her strength. She had to escape. She didn’t
want to die…she had failed her mission. All of these thoughts mixed
in one horrified jumble in her head.

Elwytha became aware that he was dragging her
across the room, toward his bed. No! She sat back, digging her
heels into the floor. It accomplished little. He gained his
goal.

Gripping her under one armpit, he pulled her
to her feet. “No,” she denied, panicked. She kicked at him like a
frenzied wild cat. “No,” she moaned, as he wrestled her back onto
the bed. “Unhand me!”

And then, to her utter horror, he crushed her
body with his, squashing her ability to fight, to move at all. She
fought to free her arms, but he held them pinned overhead. She felt
cold steel against her neck. Fear and rage surged through her at
the indignities he forced upon her.

“
Tell me why I should not
use this upon you,” the Commander said through his
teeth.

“
Kill me then, you murdering
cur,” she seethed. “That’s all you know how to accomplish. Death
and destruction!” She bucked against him, struggling to free
herself. His grip tightened on her hands. “Verily, a coward’s means
of conduct is all you understand.”

“
You try to kill me, and I
must explain myself?”

“
You can explain nothing,”
she spat. “I could never understand one as despicable as you.” She
heaved a great breath, hating him through her narrowed eyes. Did he
sense it, the thickheaded beast? Could he feel any emotion besides
rage and violence?

The fury in his eyes flickered, and then, to
her shock, he tossed the blade aside. It clattered on the stone
floor. What did this mean? What did he intend with her?

He scanned her features, as if thinking. How
difficult that must be for him! “Tell me now. Who did I kill that
you loved so much?” he demanded.

Elwytha refused to answer. How could he not
know, the murdering bastard? Had he killed so many in cold blood?
She stopped struggling, and with a vicious glare worked the saliva
around in her mouth, just as her eldest brother had taught her to
do with watermelon seeds.

The Commander stared down at her intently, as
if truly desiring to know the answer. Now, at the perfect moment,
she raised her head and spat with all the force she could muster.
Her globule of spit landed on his chin. He froze, and his grip on
her wrists tightened.

“
You dishonor
me.”

“
How can one dishonor an
already dishonorable man?” She worked her tongue around, trying to
gather more spit.

“
Tell me who I killed,” he
roared, and she swallowed her lump of spittle. Terror galloped
through her again.

“
How can you not know, you
bastard? Have you killed so many?”

“
Yes, in battle. I do not
remember them all.”

“
Not in battle,” she hissed.
“In cold blood. How many men have you stabbed in the
back?”

The misshapen brow and the straight brow
crashed together. “What think you? I have killed none in such a
manner.”

“
You have, you liar,” she
cried out. “You murdered my brother!”

Her words rang in the suddenly silent
chamber.

He heaved a great breath, above her.
“No.”

“
Your blade was found in his
back.”

“
Which blade?”

She spat at him again, but he made no move to
retaliate. “The sword with the double snakes upon it. With the seal
of the Prince. All warriors knew it was yours.”

“
That blade?” A breath
hissed out. “It was stolen.”

“
What?” she taunted,
disbelieving. “Who would steal from such a great warrior? Nay. You
plunged it through my brother’s back while he rode at peace through
the woods. You ended his life with one filthy throw. That is why I
cannot countenance your presence. You make my flesh creep, like
worms crawl over it!”

He released her and sat up. A great frown
distorted his features.

She sprang to her feet. “Now will you admit
your guilt? A great warrior would speak the truth to me.”

He raised his head. “I did not kill your
brother.” His eyes looked confused, but met hers directly. “But I
promise you I will discover who did.”

“
You would push your filthy
crime on one of your men?” she sneered. “Dishonor upon dishonor.
Nay. Speak the truth now!”

He stood and gripped her shoulders with his
great hands. “I did not kill your brother. I swear it.”

She stared at him, chest heaving. Why did
part of her believe him? She could not. He was a murderer. And a
brute beast. Look how he had just treated her.

“
What does your word mean to
me?” she said. “Nothing! I spit upon you.”

“
You are angry because I
forced the truth from you. Verily, I am sorry—I had no wish to hurt
you. But do not spit upon me again,” he warned.

So this had all been a ruse? A game, to learn
her true intent? He had not intended to harm her, he said. But he
had humiliated her. And he had killed her brother. Nothing could
change that most damning fact. Elwytha narrowed her eyes,
deliberately worked the saliva in her mouth, and readied for a
mighty salvo.

“
You do not wish to do it,”
he told her. “I will not allow your disrespect.”

“
Well, you’ve got it,” she
gurgled. A nice juicy pool had formed in her mouth.

“
Stop,” he rumbled. “You
will not like the consequence.”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.
She sucked in a mighty breath and then, faster than she could
react, the Commander swooped forward and pressed his mouth against
hers. She gulped on the nasty glob of spit. Unthinking panic
erupted in her. She beat on his shoulders, trying to push him away.
Tears crowded her eyes.

“
Are you finished?” he
whispered against her mouth.

An unwanted tear spilled down her cheek.
“Yes.”

He pulled away, and his gaze traced the path
of her tear. An unknown emotion darkened the gray eyes. “Do not
look at me thusly,” he said, and leaned toward her again. His lips
brushed hers, feather soft. The gentle caress jolted through her
with the force of stampeding horses.

She blinked up at him, heart slamming hard.
“Do not touch me.”

“
I have no wish to harm you,
Elwytha.”

“
You have already hurt me.
In the deepest way possible.”

“
Allow me the chance to
prove my honor.”

“
It is impossible,” she told
him.

“
Nothing is impossible.” He
released her, and gathered up her daggers. “I will find the
answers.”

Elwytha watched him leave the chamber,
feeling even more confused. He had denied any part in her brother’s
murder. Was he such an accomplished liar? Or did he speak the
truth?

Elwytha thought back to that terrible day and
shook her head. It must be a lie. She had seen his sword, deep in
her brother’s back. A cowardly murderer surely would not admit to
his crime.

Chapter
Eight

The Commander strode
through the quiet halls, lit only by the torches.
He shoved Elwytha’s blades under his belt. Anger churned in him.
No, a furious rage soared in him. Someone…
who?
...had stabbed Elwytha’s brother
in the back with his sword. A knave had cut the man down and
now
he
was
suspected of this cowardly, dishonorable act. No, not suspected. To
Elwytha, it was fact. No wonder she burned with hatred toward him.
He would find answers, and he would find them now.

Two guards with crossed swords stood outside
the Prince’s bedchamber.

“
I wish to see the Prince,”
he growled, deliberately fearsome.

The two looked properly alarmed.

“
He is…occupied,” said
one.

“
I will not wait,” he
roared. The men under him knew that whip of his voice. Instant
obedience was required, or immediate punishment would follow. One
of the two men jumped.

“
I will knock,” he agreed.
Tentatively, he rapped on the door.

The Commander shoved him aside and pounded on
the door with his fist. “Prince! I would speak to you now.”

After a moment, a maid, hair frazzled about
her head, and dressed only in a robe opened the door. The Prince
sat in his bed at the far end of the room, bedclothes drawn to his
waist. He relaxed against his pillows, arms crossed behind his
head.

“
This had better be worth
it, Commander,” he said in a deceptively calm tone.

“
It is. I would speak to you
in private.”

The Prince shooed the maid with his hand.
“Wait outside.” He regarded the Commander, eyes narrowed.

The Commander waited until the door closed.
“Elwytha has accused me of a wicked crime.”

“
And you bellyache to
me?”

“
My
sword
was found in her dead brother’s
back.”

The Prince stiffened. “You are certain?”

“
Of course I’m
certain.”

The Prince’s lips twisted. “You did not kill
him, did you?”

“
Of course not.” The
Commander barely restrained his bellow. “I wish to know whose
treachery accomplished this. Was it done on your order,
Prince?”

“
You are lucky we are
friends since childhood. Your words could land you in the
dungeons.”

“
I wish only for the truth.”
He clenched his fists, trying to quiet his deep breaths.

“
The princess has worked her
magic upon you, hasn’t she, Commander?” The Prince
smiled.

The Commander clenched his jaw. “I would have
the truth, Prince.”

“
You are lucky I favor you,
old friend…brother. But I tell you the truth. I did not order his
assassination.”

A little of the tension relaxed out of the
Commander’s stiff shoulders. “Who, then? Someone stole my blade and
now I stand accused of the crime.”

“
I will discover the truth.
Fear not,” the Prince said. “What plan have you?”

“
I will question my men. And
I’ll question Elwytha for more details.”

The Prince nodded. “And I will send out spies
into the land. We’ll have our answers. And perhaps the answers will
strengthen our hand. You would have a kingdom of your own, would
you not?”

“
No,” the Commander denied.
“I have told you many times, I am a warrior, not a king. I am happy
to leave those duties to you.”

The Prince gave him a small smile. “Know I
will do what I can to ensure that Elwytha gives you a sporting
chance. But beware. She remains our enemy.”

“
I wish peace with
her.”

“
Peace.” The Prince nodded,
his obsidian eyes unreadable. “We will see.”

* * * * *

Elwytha could not sleep that night. Her mind
kept replaying everything that had happened that day…that night. So
many contradictory, confusing things. The Commander ordering her to
ride with him, warming her in the hut…demanding to know why she
hated him. Not killing her when he had had the chance.

Why?

Had he truly conspired to wrest the truth
from her? Again, why? Surely he could have guessed the reason for
her anger. He had killed her brother.

Yet he denied it. Confusion roiled within
her. The blade that had killed Thor was the Commander’s. Who else
could have wielded the murdering blow?

He claimed the blade was stolen.

Elwytha gazed out the window at the starlit
sky. The storm had broken.

Why was she considering the possibility that
the Commander spoke truth to her? Perhaps because part of her
couldn’t reconcile the cowardly murderer of her brother with the
man who had kissed her so gently tonight. With the man who had
warmed her in the hut.

Yet tonight he had manipulated and manhandled
her for the sole purpose of coercing the truth from her—he’d said
so himself. Clearly, he wished only to have his own way, as usual;
his brutish side, coming through once more. The side that had
killed her brother.

And the blade…what more proof did she need?
No doubts troubled her brother’s mind. He knew the Commander had
done it. She’d seen the hatred in his eyes when Richard had ordered
her to kill him.