Dawn Of Desire - Page 15

With her much longer reach, Oriana easily caught Ula’s wrist before the irate woman’s nails grazed her cheek. Then with a sharp twist to her arm, she propelled the venomous widow toward the open doorway and released her with a shove.

“Do not disturb me ever again,” Oriana ordered darkly, and promptly swung the massive door closed.

“What a distasteful episode,” she murmured under her breath.

She brushed her hands as she turned away from the door, and having no intention of cowering in Egan’s chamber, grabbed her bag to choose clothing. Only her comb and the ornate pouch containing her collection of unusual stones tumbled out. Spilling from its container, the new amethyst glowed in the fire’s leaping light, but Oriana was far too enraged to appreciate the stone’s rare beauty.

That Egan would steal her clothes, and then order his hateful stepmother to fashion a new wardrobe for her was unforgivable. Before she could finish cursing him, however, there was a perfunctory knock at the door and in he strode.

Seizing the moment, Oriana shook her now empty travel bag at him. “What have you done with my garments?”

Egan widened his stance and rested his hands on his hips. He had bathed, shaved, and dressed in a fresh tunic and trousers that morning, but the improvement in his appearance failed to extend to his mood. He regarded Oriana’s sleep-creased gown with a scowl.

“I’ll not repeat what I think of your drab wardrobe, but you needn’t fret that I burned it. Instead, I gave the whole lot to Ula’s seamstresses to cut apart for patterns. That will guarantee a superb fit to their creations.”

Thoroughly exasperated by the man’s unending arrogance, Oriana chucked the amethyst back into its pouch, then shoved the smaller bag into her travel satchel and flung it upon the bed. Anxious to make him understand how wrong he’d been, she gestured with quick jabs as she began to pace with a long, restless stride.

“Do you expect me to thank you for disregarding my wishes not once, but twice? I had no desire to share your bed last night, nor to wear whatever clothing Ula’s seamstresses might create. As for Ula, after the wretched scene she just created here, she’ll undoubtedly forbid her seamstresses from sewing a single stitch for me.”

Caught off guard, Egan took a hesitant step toward her. “Ula has already paid you a visit?”

Chilled by the memory of their encounter, Oriana grabbed a fur from the bed and draped it around her shoulders. “Only long enough to call me a lazy, stupid slut. I threw her out.”

Oriana’s glorious curls were a tangled mess and her gown a pleated web of wrinkles. Barefoot, she could not have looked more pitiful, but she still moved with a dancer’s grace, and Egan fought to maintain a deliberate scowl to mask the admiration in his gaze.

“I did not anticipate the two of you ever becoming friends,” he confessed crossly, “but this is most unfortunate, indeed.” He grabbed the chamber’s single chair, swung it around to face Oriana, and then settled down with his back to the fire. “Perhaps the fault is mine.”

The softening in his tone surprised Oriana; she would have preferred him to remain hostile and aloof. Too anxious to follow his example and sit, she continued to pace. “Did you actually describe me to her in such coarse and uncomplimentary terms?” she challenged.

“No, of course not. I said only that I’d brought home a woman who was in need of a new wardrobe, which I expected to be fashioned from our finest fabrics and lace.”

“Which was totally unnecessary,” Oriana admonished. “I may have asked to remain here a few days, but now I would prefer to take my leave. I’ll wear your cast-off garments if I must, but the prospect of remaining here another hour is intolerable.”

Egan sat back to observe her with an incredulous stare. “You’d look ridiculous in one of my tunics. It would drag on the ground.”

“I’ll cut it off,” Oriana replied. Her shoes lay where she’d left them near the hearth, and she bent to retrieve them. “Anything old and ragged will do. After all, according to you, it’s what I’m accustomed to wearing.”

Oriana had carelessly strayed close, and Egan caught her hand and pulled her down across his lap where, thoroughly flustered, she struggled against his confining grasp. “Sit still,” he ordered, and then strengthened his hold until she complied.

“I still have need of your talents,” he scolded. “I didn’t expect you to meet Ula this soon, but other than an instant and obviously hearty dislike, what do you make of her?”

Trapped upon his tautly muscled thighs, Oriana was far too aware of Egan to consider anything else. She dared not rest her head against the smoothness of his cheek, nor gaze into his hazy blue eyes. She wondered how often had he yanked her against him. She had lost count of the times he had pressed her close to his chest on one ridiculous pretext or another, but until last night, she had merely rebelled at being confined, rather than tortured by his touch.

She breathed deeply to focus her thoughts elsewhere and instantly regretted the error, for he smelled of deliciously spiced soap, subtle aroma of which made her yearn to draw closer still. She held her breath to fight that traitorous impulse, but after a long moment released a tormented sigh.

He had asked about his stepmother, but there was more than animosity to her reaction. Poison was a woman’s weapon, and meeting the haughty Ula had strengthened her suspicion that Cadell had been murdered. She remaining unwilling, however, to endanger Egan’s life by sharing such a dangerous insight. Instead, as she so often did with strangers, she related only a portion of the truth.

“Ula is precisely what you know her to be,” Oriana began with deliberate care, “a woman who delights in entrancing men. She still has the beauty to achieve her desires now, but as time gradually fades her allure, she will lead an increasingly bitter existence. But you already knew there’s nothing about the woman to admire.”

Clearly ill at ease, Oriana was perched stiffly upon his knee, and yet Egan found her presence an unexpected comfort. He raised a hand to stroke her hair, and when she seemed not to notice, he coiled a long curl around his hand. What he felt then was a longing so intense he was immediately shocked to his senses. He quickly dropped his hands to Oriana’s slender waist and with a trembling grasp set her on her feet. Egan rose to cover his dismay and shoved the thickly padded chair back into its customary place.

“As always, your observation is correct,” he said brusquely, “but you must take care not to cross Ula again. She may already be plotting a means to disgrace you.”

Oriana’s brittle laugh discounted the significance of that threat. “I have no reputation to lose, other than as a woman with a view into the future. Because we’ve chosen not to reveal my talent, how can Ula possibly besmirch it?”

“Do not trifle with her,” Egan emphasized with a menacing glare. “Nor with me either,” he added darkly. “Now, I promise to provide you with adequate garments, and women’s garments at that, by the evening meal. I want you to meet my brother, and because he’ll wisely not trouble you by coming here, it will be your first such opportunity.”

Totally dissatisfied with their latest exchange, Oriana rocked back on her heels. “I shall look forward to it with eager anticipation.”

Tags: Phoebe Conn Historical
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