The Protector (29 page)

He had always expected trouble with Anna, but not this soon and not this boldly expressed. And especially not coming on the heels of last night's rejection.

He had underestimated her. The average woman would be besotted still—but then, she had never been the average woman. He probably wouldn't have wanted her
if she had been, but that didn't make this blatant challenge any less significant.

He lounged against the stable wall, forcing a fragile control on his anger. Ascanio and Gregory hustled across the yard. “About an hour ago,” Gregory said. “The guards thought she had permission.”

Short of announcing that she was a prisoner, Morvan knew, it would be hard to keep her from having the gate opened. She was the lady, and had some authority. She was also a lot smarter than any of the guards. He wondered what ruse she had used.

“Perhaps I should come with you,” Ascanio offered.

“Do I look that dangerous?”

“Fit to kill, actually.”

“Then my face shows more than I feel. I will not hurt her over this. I assume that she has gone to the horse farm.”

Ascanio shrugged. “It is her joy and her life.”

“I have not forbidden her that.”

“Not yet.”

The groom led out the courser and Morvan swung into the saddle. He looked down at Ascanio, and the anger he barely held in check surged. “Do you disapprove of how I'm handling my wife, priest?”

“Since you ask, I will say this. Remember what makes her who she is. Especially since it is clear that
she
will never forget, no matter how much pleasure you give her.”

He would have struck down a different man. Instead he pivoted the bay and headed to the gate.

He looked straight ahead, his eyes on the rising portcullis, but he could sense the guards and servants turning to watch him pass. They all knew that she had defied him, and that he was going after her. Her
rebellion delighted some of them, the ones none too happy to be given an English lord at the command of an English king.

He galloped across the field. He wanted to separate this from last night, but it was not a thing apart. Never in his life had a woman refused him like that, and now his wife,
who belonged to him
, had dared it. His control of women had always been complete after he bedded them, and with Anna it had not just been pleasure that he gave when he touched her.

He did not care why she had turned away from that. He only knew that, bargain or not, he would not tolerate it. He would not permit her to deny him that temporary but complete unity.

He had thought to make the changes in her life gradual so that she might not mind them too much, but she was too smart for that. She had seen the pattern and knew where it led.

Well, so much for subtlety. He had tried passion. Now he would use reasoning. And if that failed…

He slowed the bay when he found the forest path leading to the farm. The direction of his thoughts made him pause. He stopped the horse and forced reason on his chaotic reactions.

He knew how he was supposed to handle this. He had seen lords use their belts or rods on wives or daughters. But he had never been one of the heads nodding approval, nor had he ever hurt a woman with his strength. The idea of punishing Anna sickened him, especially when he began considering the implications of it, of what it would do to both of them, and of what it might destroy.

His distracted gaze fell to the ground. His blood chilled.

He had noted Shadow's fresh prints on sandy patches as he crossed the field. On the main path they had covered earlier tracks, probably made by Carlos. But now, mixed among them, were the prints of two, maybe three, other animals.

Any sympathy that he felt for her, any inclination toward understanding, disappeared as the cold fear he had known when she was wounded claimed him again. He moved his bay to a trot, his gaze never wavering from the confusion of marks passing below him.

Her damn stubborn will would get her killed if he let it. He had been too careful of her pride. He would lock her up if he had to.

Finally Shadow's marks disappeared into the brush, heading toward the farm, but the others continued along the path. Only then did the horrible foreboding lift. All that was left then was a cold resolve born of protective possession.

Anna charged the black mare across the pasture. She was a spirited animal, young and willful, and would need a lot of work before she would be suitable for the tasks for which she had been bred. A workhorse, that meant, since she was female. She was strong and fast, and would make a fine courser. But knights would never ride coursers that were mares.

The ride exalted her. It had been weeks.
Weeks.
She reveled in the speed and danger and power. She wished she hadn't saddled the mare so she could stand on her back like she sometimes did with Shadow.

Alone and free. It would be short-lived and she would pay for it, but by God, how her spirit soared.
I think that you do it because you enjoy it
. Aye, Morvan, you saw more
clearly than I. Do not make me choose between you and this, because I don't know how it will go. Don't ask me to choose between you and myself.

She aimed the mare toward the farmhouse, then reined her in when they arrived. She jumped down and handed her over to Louis, whose turn it was to guard the farm. She darted into a shed and emerged just as Carlos came around the building.

“Work with me, Carlos.” She held up the two practice swords.

“Nay. He will have my head.”

“He hasn't forbidden this.”

“I don't need to be told not to jump into the sea in order to know I should stay away from the cliff's edge,” Carlos said. “Do you? When he was only a knight in your service you knew he did not approve.”

“I didn't think you'd be afraid of him.”

“Only a fool wouldn't be. And it is for you that I fear. You have worked with the horses. Go practice with the bow. Let that be enough.”

She stood her ground. This morning would cost her dearly, and she wanted her value's worth. For a brief while at least, she wanted her life back.

She saw Louis watching over by the corral. He would do it for her. He was one of several guards who were not pleased about the new lord's displacing her. His eyes sparkled now, delighted at seeing her back to normal. But he was no match for Morvan, and she had not included the protection of him in her bargain as she had Carlos and Ascanio.

“Then I will practice on my own and at least rebuild my strength. I have become a weakling this last month.”

Carlos sighed and shook his head. “There are ways for
women to handle men like him, Anna. You go about this all wrong.”

She ignored him and dropped one of the swords.

He started to walk away, then saw something and muttered, “Oh, hell.”

Anna followed the line of his gaze. The rigid form of a knight on horseback stood on top of the hill that overlooked the farm and pasture. He was dressed all in black, and the set of his body spoke his mood.

“He knew that you were coming, didn't he?”

Anna didn't reply. Morvan hadn't moved.

“Oh, hell,” Carlos said again. He stepped in front of her. “He is your husband and I cannot help you in this, Anna. But hand me the sword now.”

The horse began to walk down the hill. She slipped Carlos the sword. He picked up the other and strode to the fence, where he slid them behind the water trough.

“Do not bother. He saw them.” She followed the bay courser's progress. Morvan was coming slowly on purpose. He wanted to scare her. It was working.

“At least they are not in your hand and at your feet,” Carlos replied, returning to her side. “Try being very sweet to him.”

“You expect me to just give in?” The taste of freedom had quickened her will, not salved it. She was in no mood to be sweet. She wasn't even sure what that meant. Docile? Pleading? Such manipulation would make her sick with herself. It was one thing to be conquered, and another to grovel for mercy.

“You have already lost,” Carlos said. “You lost the day you married him.”

Morvan was close enough for them to see the sparks in his eyes and the severity of his expression.

“Holy saints, girl, what have you done?”

“I came here, that is all.”
And denied him my bed.
How much of his anger came from that, she wondered, and how much from this morning's defiance? “He is just being overbearing. As usual. You had better go.”

“Nay. I had better stay. For all the good it will do you.”

The bay courser trotted into the yard. Morvan sat there a while glaring at her before swinging down.

He strode over to her, stopping an arm's span away.

A terrible stillness throbbed. Straightening her shoulders, she raised her head and met his hot gaze with a level one of her own.

Fury at her insolence hardened his expression. He stepped forward, bent, and rose. She found herself slung over his left shoulder, her legs pinned by his arm, her face to his back.

“Put me down,” she hissed.

“Have her horse ready,” he ordered Carlos.

From her humiliating position, she saw Carlos move toward Louis and made out the stunned looks on their faces. Furious, she pummeled Morvan's back. He didn't seem to notice.

He began taking her to the farmhouse. She struggled vainly against his hold. She would not be treated like some child. She leveraged her body up against his shoulder. Grasping her hands together, she raised her arms as high as she could. Then she let her weight fall, bringing the fist down with all of her might on his back.

He sucked in his breath and stopped in mid-stride. “Thank you,” he said, tightly. His right hand swung into view and then landed hard on her bottom.

Shock took her breath away. He continued walking. Rage and humiliation clouded her mind. Gritting her teeth, she tried to kick her legs free. He swung again. Out
of the corner of her eye she saw Louis step toward them and Carlos throw out an arm to block him.

Morvan kicked open the door of the farmhouse. “Out,” he ordered. With a scurry of feet the other guard flew past them. Morvan dropped her onto a bench by the hearth. She started to rise.

He pressed her back down. “Do not move. Do not speak.”

She seethed silently beneath his restraining hand. He stood in front of her like some threat out of hell.

“Do not move,” he said again. “Do not, or I may well do you violence.”

She let him know that she wouldn't challenge him. He released his hold. He didn't move for several long, tense minutes. She looked only at the floor, but knew the exact moment that he regained control.

“You go too far, Anna. You said that you would not undermine my authority.”

“I meant with the others. I never accepted these rights you use. I cannot break rules that don't exist.” She almost said “stupid rules,” but caught herself.

“I am in no mood to argue with you now. We will talk of that later.”

He walked over to the table. The guard had been breaking his fast when they arrived, and Morvan picked up some bread and stood by the fire eating it.

She shifted uncomfortably. It hurt a bit where she sat. She thought resentfully about Carlos and Louis's seeing him humiliate her that way. On the other hand, she had hurt him first with her fist.

Morvan sank onto one of the stools at the table, his back against the table's edge, his legs extended. His anger had only partly abated.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Waiting for enough time to pass.”

That made no sense. She began to get up.

“Do not move,” he said quietly. Too quietly.

“Enough time for what?” she asked, exasperated.

“For me to punish you. Right now Carlos and the others assume that I am either beating you or taking you with violence. Probably the latter, since you are not screaming.”

Rebellious anger burned again. He was right. And the guards would talk about it, and by tomorrow the whole estate would know that the lord had lessoned his lady.

She wouldn't give him such an easy victory. She stood abruptly and walked to the door.

His voice followed her to the threshold. “Do not force me to a public punishment, Anna. My hold on the people here is too new and partly unwelcome. I cannot let any challenge of my authority pass, especially one coming from you. Go out that door and I will do what I am expected to do.”

“Do you really think that will change anything?”

“Nay. But Carlos and Louis will try to help you, and then there will be hell to pay for your willfulness, won't there?”

Her hand fell from the door, and she returned to the bench.

A long while later he brought her outside. Carlos led the horses over. He gave Morvan an unfriendly look. The ruse had succeeded magnificently.

“You will ride back on my horse, in front of me,” Morvan said.

“I have not ridden thus since I was a child. I will not—”

“You will do it, either seated like a lady, or slung face-down with my hand on your back.”

He meant it. Swallowing her insulted pride, she mounted his horse.

He did not speak to her as they rode, but his black mood draped them both like a coarse wool cloak. It reminded her uncomfortably of that day when he had ridden to Reading like a relentless threat beside her. The same aura of unfinished business hung in the air between them now, and the same predatory sensuality.

He stopped his horse outside the gate. “When we go in, I want you to look subdued. Do not raise your eyes. The slightest smile and it will go badly for you. Go up to your chamber and wait for me there.”

He was repairing his authority at no real cost to her, she realized. Most other lords would just whip their wives in the hall for all to see. Pretending a docility that she hardly felt, she followed his instructions.

She was deciding that the morning had been a draw at worst when she opened the door to her chamber.

His chests were back. Boots and shoes stood lined up beside them, and several of his weapons rested in the corner.

Her own sword was gone.

He must have given orders for this as soon as he woke, probably before he knew that she had left.