Outlaw (Medieval Trilogy 3)
He laughed again and this time felt a mite of joy. “Silly girl. Why would I agree to this? You are already my wife. You will do what I say, eat what I tell you, sleep with me when I want you, hold your tongue when you disapprove, and bear my children. This you have agreed to do.”
“Not willingly. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”
“But if I release the prisoners?”
“I will be your servant.”
He nearly choked on his wine. “Ah, Megan, a fine liar you be, but I think no man would ever be your master.” The thought caused his blood to heat a bit, and seeing her standing before him in her tunic as blue as midnight, color high in her cheeks, her lips quivering slightly, he could barely restrain himself.
“ ’Tis a deal I wish to strike with you, Holt.”
“And you’ll promise to do anything I ask?” he jeered.
She closed her eyes and her fingers clenched into tight fists. “Aye,” she agreed. “Anything.”
Twirling the stem of his mazer in his fingers, he considered her proposition. Was she sincere? The skin drawn tight over her nose and the lines around the corners of her lips convinced him, and had she not always been true to her word? Firelight gleamed against his silver cup. ’Twas pleasant to think her malleable and fearful of his power. If he agreed, he would finally have her where he’d wanted her—under his thumb and groveling to do his bidding.
Unless she was lying.
“You will not argue with me?”
“On my word.”
“You will lie in my bed and give me sons?”
He watched her swallow. “As many as God allows.”
He couldn’t resist seeing how far she would go. He’d been humiliated in front of his men and ’twould be good to get a little payment in kind. Since he was made to look the fool by her capture and rumors of her ardor for the damned outlaw, Holt wanted her to taste what it felt like to be utterly mortified.
“What if I wanted to bed you in front of some of my men—or mayhap share you?”
“Dear God,” she cried in dismay, her face flushing with color, her eyes blinking wildly.
“Well?”
She bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood. “Aye,” she consented and faltered a bit as if she were about to keel over.
“So tell me, Megan,” he said, unable to push aside the horrid thought that had been nagging at him ever since she made her first request. “Do you love the outlaw so much that you would suffer complete shame and indignity to save him?”
She hesitated, but when she opened her eyes to stare at him, he was awed by the strength in her gaze. “I’ve said I would do what you ask. Why I do it is of no matter. Now, Lord Holt, will you spare the men?”
“Each one but Wolf. The other men, including the boy and traitors in mine own castle, will be allowed their freedom, but Wolf must remain in the dungeon. His sins of kidnapping, traitorous insubordination, and murderous intent must be atoned for.” She nearly lost her balance, but leaned against the table for support. “Wolf’s punishment will be an example for those who dare think they could defy me. The gallows, though they are nearly finished, will stand for a week, as a reminder of what happens to those who betray me. Then, at week’s end, he’ll be hanged by a rope until he’s dead.”
“You cannot do this!” she cried, her calm exterior cracking and tears of genuine fear filling her eyes. “Holt, please, I beg you … ”
“ ’Tis no use.”
“But—”
“Hush! ’Tis done,” he said, his lip curling in disgust when she revealed how much she cared for the forest thug and his motley band of thieves. “Guard!” he called, then turned his anger to Megan. “Prepare yourself, m’lady, for I will come to your bed tonight. Rest now.”
She started to protest, but held her tongue.
“So you be a smart girl. Asides,” he said with an ugly chuckle, “your friends will go free. Except, of course, for your beloved, doomed Wolf.”
Fifteen
o where were ye for the years we thought ye dead?”