Dark Warrior (Warrior 2)

He shook his head, dropped the blanket, and rid her of everything but her nightshift. He stared at her, his eyes so heated they should have warmed her but instead a shiver raced through her. He wrapped her in the blanket, securing her arms in a tight cocoon.

She was unable to move, her arms taut against her sides. She felt trapped and vulnerable like a prisoner with no chance to defend.

“You think to make a fool of me? You think I believe your lies that you were exploring the castle? Do you wish to be punished?”

She remained firm in her lie. “I speak the truth.”

“I think not,” he raged. “I think you helped the prisoner to escape.”

Fear prickled her skin, but she refused to cower to his anger. She had to remain strong and convince him she had nothing to do with Roarke’s escape. “I did no such thing. Why would I?”

“Because you are a fool,” he said with a near shout.

“You are the fool for believing me capable of such a task.”

“Capable?” He all but laughed. “It takes strength, courage, and fearlessness to escape and you have proven to me that you possess all three. You did, after all, escape my prison.”

“With help,” she reminded him.

“Exactly,” he said with a smile that chilled her. “You were helped, so now you help another. Is that what the Dark One taught you? To risk your life for someone of no importance?”

“I did not risk my life.”

“You risked more than you know,” he said, his tone threatening. “You think I will not punish you?”

He pushed the chair closer to the fire and with a push and a shove forced her to sit. “Think on what your foolishness will cost you.”

He stormed out of the room slamming the door shut behind him.

She shivered, then loosened her arms and hugged the blanket tightly around her. What had she done? Had she placed her unborn child in harm’s way? Would Decimus feel it necessary to punish her to save face in front of his men? She could not even use her pregnancy to prevent torture for then he would know she had been with another man.

Good lord, what had she done?

“Mary.”

She turned and quickly searched for Michael.

“Where are you?” she asked anxiously.

The dark figure stepped out from the shadows.

“Are you all right?”

She ran to him, throwing herself into the safety of his strong arms.

He embraced her fiercely.

“Oh, Michael. I have been so foolish,” she said, holding on to him and never wanting to let go.

“Tell me what is wrong.”

“I helped Roarke to escape. I had to. He would have suffered greatly if I had not set him free.”

He eased her away from him but held her arms firmly. “You should not have taken such a dangerous chance. I would have helped him.”

She shook her head. “He was badly hurt. He needed to escape then or he would never have survived.”

“And what if you were caught?”

“I gave it no thought,” she said. “It was something I had to do and now . . .” She pulled away from him, her eyes round with fright. “Oh, Michael, I am a fool. Decimus threatens to punish me and I fear for the safety of our unborn babe.”

He made no move, nor spoke one word. He stilled in silence and remained so for several moments.

Mary grabbed his arm. “I am sorry to have told you like this, but we must do something to protect our babe. I cannot bear the thought of losing your child and I cannot convince Decimus it is his since we have not been intimate. I know not what to do. I only know our child needs protecting. You must do something,” she pleaded with trembling lips. “You must save our babe.”

He yanked his arm free of her and with a flourish that caused Mary to take several steps away from him, he grabbed hold of his black robe and with one full sweep he pulled it off him and tossed it aside, his gloves following.

Decimus.

She choked on the name that refused to spill from her lips. Decimus stood before her in his rich finery, his glittering rings and his dark eyes glaring.

“You tricked me,” she said, believing herself ten times the fool for not realizing that her new husband was a devious and spiteful man.

“Mary—”

She backed away from him. Her hand stretched out in front of her to keep him at a distance. “Do not touch me. You are pure evil.”

“Mary,” he said again, his voice gruff.

Her eyes turned wide. He sounded so very much like Michael.

“It is me—Michael.”

She shook her head, confused. “Michael? Decimus?”

He approached her slowly. “We are one and the same.”

She shook her head harder. “I do not understand.”

He made no move to reach out to her, for the nearer his approach the farther she moved away from him. “Michael, the Dark One, is Decimus. We are one.”