Miles caught her arm and when he spun her around, Elizabeth again felt dizzy and clutched at a stool at her feet. “The food is for you,” he said, helping her to sit down. “I will not allow you to starve yourself further.”
“And what will you do?” she asked wearily. “Put hot coals to the bottoms of my feet? Or perhaps you have your own special ways of forcing women to do what you want.”
A frown crossed Miles’s face, drawing his brows together. He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to stand before him. “Yes, I do have my own forms of punishment.”
Elizabeth had never seen this look of his, with his eyes just this shade of gray, looking as if tiny blue fires burned behind the gray. Bending, he put his lips to her neck, ignoring her when she stiffened and tried to pull away from him.
“Do you have any idea how desirable you are, Elizabeth?” he murmured against her neck. His lips nibbled upward, barely touching her skin, just enough to impart warmth to her, while his right hand played with the shoulder exposed by her torn dress. His fingers moved inward slowly, caressing the top of her breast while his teeth gently touched her earlobe.
“I would like to make love to you, Elizabeth,” he whispered, so low that she felt more than heard his words. “I would like to thaw your cool exterior. I’d like to touch and caress every morsel of you, to look at you, to have you look at me with all the desire I feel for you.”
Elizabeth had stood quite still during Miles’s touching of her and, as always, she felt nothing. He did not truly repulse her as his breath was not foul and he didn’t hurt her, but she felt none of the blood-quickening rush the girls in the convent had giggled about.
“If I swear to eat will you stop this?” she asked coolly.
Miles pulled away from her, studied her face for a moment, and Elizabeth prepared herself for the coming abuse. All men, when they found she was not over-whelmed by their lovemaking, responded by calling her many ugly names.
Miles gave her a quiet smile, caressed her cheek one more time, and offered his arm to lead her to the table. Ignoring his arm, she went to the table alone, not allowing Miles to see her confusion.
He served her himself, placing choice tidbits upon an ornate silver plate, and smiled when she ate her first bite.
“And now you are congratulating yourself on having kept me from starving myself,” she said. “My brother will thank you for returning me to him in good condition.”
“I am not returning you yet,” Miles said softly.
Elizabeth refused to allow him to see how he upset her, but continued eating. “Roger will pay you whatever ransom you ask.”
“I will take no money from my sister’s murderer,” Miles said, the sound coming from a closed throat.
She threw the quail leg she was eating to her plate. “You have said this before. I know nothing of your sister!”
Miles turned toward her and his eyes were the color of steel. “Roger Chatworth tried to take the woman who was promised in marriage to my brother Stephen, and when Stephen fought for his bride, your brother attacked his back.”
“No!” Elizabeth gasped, standing.
“Stephen bested Chatworth but refused to kill him, and in retaliation, Chatworth kidnapped my sister and, later, Stephen’s bride. He raped my sister and, in horror, she cast herself from a window.”
“No! No! No!” Elizabeth shouted, her hands over her ears.
Miles stood, grabbed her hands, held them. “Your brother Brian loved my sister and when she killed herself, he released my sister-in-law and brought the body of my sister to us.”
“You are a liar! You are evil! Release me!”
Miles drew her closer, held her loosely in his arms. “It’s not pleasant to hear that someone you love has done s
o much wrong.”
Elizabeth’d had much experience in getting away from men and Miles’d had no experience in women struggling against his grasp. Quickly, she brought her knee up between his legs and instantly he released her.
“Damn you, Elizabeth,” he gasped, leaning against the table, cupping himself.
“Damn you, Montgomery,” she shot back as she grabbed a pitcher of wine and flung it at his head just before she turned to flee.
He ducked the pitcher and caught her arm in the same motion. “You’ll not escape me,” he said, pulling her toward him. “I’m going to teach you that the Montgomerys are innocent in this feud, even if I have to die proving it.”
“The idea of your death is the first pleasant notion I’ve heard in days.”
For a moment Miles closed his eyes as if in a silent prayer for help. He seemed recovered when he looked back at her. “Now, if you have finished eating, we must ride. We are going to Scotland.”