The Commander's Desire (11 page)

His eyes bored into her. “I accept no
defeats. Dress to ride.”

Elwytha glared, clenching her fists, and
without a word retreated to her chamber. She slammed the door. That
beastly man. Would he always have his way? She was a princess.
Unused to being ordered about. Nay, she gave orders, and men of the
Commander’s ilk obeyed them.

Her bosom heaved, rage building. Was her
humiliation to be complete? Must she bow to a serf and obey his
every command?

Nay. She refused to submit. She would not do
it. No matter if Sir Duke would enjoy the run. No matter if a tiny
part of her wished to ride in the glorious sunshine. She would not
obey. The Commander had pushed too far. He needed to learn his
place. Starting now.

She quickly donned the baggy brown she had
worn the second day. Hagma washed her clothes daily, so happily she
could keep wearing the same horrific dresses over and over.

Elwytha sat, arms crossed. She would refuse
to leave her room.

As the moments slowly ticked by,
uncomfortable thoughts began to trickle in. What means would the
Commander employ this time to bend her to his will?

Would he throw her over his shoulder again?
Would he drag her, kicking and screaming down the halls and out to
the stables?

Humiliation burned in her at the very
thought. The maids and warriors of the palace would laugh at her.
And the Prince would no doubt sneer with amusement at her
disgrace.

She clenched her fists in frustration. What
recourse had she? She could either submit gracefully, or be made to
look like a fool.

Fury trembled through Elwytha. Her brother
would use her, the Commander would rule over her; how could she
escape? She felt like a chess piece, forced from one position to
another. Never mind if her life would be sacrificed. Her wishes
were insignificant.

Had she no free will? The injustice of it
all; being made to feel like a dog to be ordered about. She was a
princess, drat it. A princess. Would her humiliation never end?

Rebellious anger scorched her cheeks as she
brooded capitulating to the Commander’s order. Nay. He would not
rule over her.

Unwanted tears escaped. With angry hands, she
dashed them away. How much longer could she stand this untenable
position…to be subservient to her brother’s murderer? She couldn’t
stand it now. She wanted to scream, but didn’t. That man would not
break her. She collapsed across her bed, seething harsh breaths
through her teeth, and fought for the calm focus of her warrior
training.

* * * * *

The Commander waited for Elwytha to emerge
from her chamber. It was taking a long time. He would give her a
few more minutes.

Why had she taken his blade? Again, he
wondered. If she had meant to kill him, she could have tried last
night. But she hadn’t. Then what was her plan?

Nothing good, he felt certain. That’s why he
felt an urgency to set his plan in motion now. Today. The wall
between them had to come down. Courtesy, kindness, mercy…nothing
worked with her. He had to get to the root of the problem.

He knew now that she wanted blades. She’d
worn them on her person when she had arrived, and she wanted them
back. He would use this weakness to further his plan.

Today he would allow her ample time to wander
the halls, and he’d ensure that a certain room was unlocked. She
would be unable to resist investigating.

Grimly, the Commander steepled his fingers.
He would have his wife. But he wanted all of Elwytha, not just her
body. He would do whatever it took to get her. The danger only
sweetened the battle for him.

* * * * *

Elwytha washed her face to remove traces of
the brief, humiliating bout of tears. Still, the polished metal
mirror did not lie. Her eyelids looked red and puffy, and so did
her nose. No doubt the Commander would be pleased with her abject
misery.

Stiffening her shoulders, she opened the
door. She found her betrothed stalking his room.

He turned to her. “You are ready.” His gaze
ran down her dress, and she didn’t imagine the displeased twist to
his mouth. Good. At least she was allowed one meager victory.

Head held high, she marched for the door and
strode out, not waiting for him to follow. Thankfully, she knew her
way to the stables and she made speed there, wishing to outrun the
Commander’s presence altogether.

Of course, this was impossible, but she
saddled Sir Duke in peace, and then cantered behind the Commander
into the bright, sunshiny day. Today she followed at a great
distance. She had no wish to speak to him. No wish to be near him.
He could order her about and demand her company, but he could not
make her be civil. At this moment, pretending peace was beyond
her.

Sir Duke ambled happily and Elwytha sniffed
the fresh, crisp fall air. Despite herself, she began to feel a
little better—perhaps because the Commander was far ahead. She
could enjoy the scenery without the taint of his presence.

He waited for her now, she saw with a start
of dismay, and Sir Duke gradually closed the distance.

“
You wish to speak?” Elwytha
inquired coldly.

“
Keep pace with me,” he
ordered. “I have lines to inspect.”

Anger flared hot again in Elwytha. “I am not
a servant. Pray, do not treat me like one.”

“
You would rather I treat
you like a child? Because that is your behavior.”

Elwytha clenched her fists.
“You order me about like a dog. I hate it! You afford me no
dignity. You would have me bow and scrape to you, but
I
am the
princess.”

The black stallion moved restlessly beneath
the Commander. “You would have me bow and scrape to you?” he asked.
“Speak truth. This would please you.”

“
I would have you treat me
with respect.” Anger shook in her voice.

“
Then treat me with
respect.”

“
You want no respect. You
desire only to wield power over me. You order me thither and yon;
‘ride with me,’ ‘dine with me.’ Your orders have no
end.”

“
You wish time to
yourself?”

“
Yes!” She could think of
nothing more glorious.

“
You shall have it, then.
This afternoon. But I will require you to eat with me this
even.”

He was attempting to be civil. “Very well,”
she agreed.

The Commander scanned the horizon. “We need
to ride fast. A storm is coming, and I have much to inspect.”

Elwytha hadn’t noticed the low, gray clouds
on the horizon. “What are you inspecting?”

“
I search for
spies.”

She was confused. “From Northumbria?”

“
Nay.” His eyes pierced
her.

She was shocked. “You mean spies from my
brother?”

“
Yes. Other riders have met
pairs of your brother’s men as we did the other day.”

Elwytha frowned, wondering what this could
mean. She knew nothing of such plans from her brother.

“
Come.” The Commander urged
his steed into a gallop and Sir Duke gladly matched the stride.
Elwytha enjoyed the tug of the wind through her hair. At last, she
felt a sense of freedom. Being outdoors had helped. As had the talk
with the Commander. He appeared willing to hear her thoughts. At
least a little.

Perhaps she need only reason with him, and he
would consider her point of view in the future. The idea amazed
her. Could it be so simple? Probably not. Nothing appeared simple
with the Commander. On first sight, she’d thought him an unthinking
brute, but now she knew he was a shrewd, complicated man who
demanded respect from her, as well as from all of his warriors. She
would need to tread carefully with him. Verily, nothing may be as
it appeared.

The morning passed with no sighting of spies.
Elwytha was relieved. She wanted no evidence of further treachery
on her brother’s part. Or perhaps this was part of his larger plan?
Have her kill the Commander, and then he’d invade the land, using
the spies’ reports to infiltrate weak areas? These thoughts
troubled her, and as she followed the Commander back to the castle,
rain began to drip upon her head. The sky had long ago turned gray.
Now the clouds grew heavier, blacker. They still had half an hour
to ride.

The Commander abruptly turned into the trees,
away from the path home. Wondering why, Elwytha followed, bowing
her head against the great fat rain drops. The drops fell faster,
sliding like cold fingers through her hair, and across her skin.
Wet splotches grew on her dress.

The Commander pulled up before a thatched
shack and tied the stallion’s reins to a tree. The sky chose that
moment to open up. Rain poured down, soaking Elwytha as she slid
off her horse. The Commander took the reins and she dashed inside
the hut.

Dim light entered the small windows, and it
was dry inside, except for a far corner, which dripped rain through
the thatch. It appeared to be an old hunting shack. It had no
furniture; only a fireplace. Old logs and kindling lay beside
it.

“
Look,” she said, when he
entered. “Do you have a flint?”

“
Of course.” He knelt beside
her. With skill, his large hands quickly urged a spark into a
flame, and then he carefully piled on small sticks, and then larger
logs.

Elwytha rubbed her hands before the warmth,
shivering. “How long will the rain last?”

“
An hour, maybe more.” The
Commander pulled off his armor. He looked mostly dry beneath, and
she felt envious. She huddled closer to the fire. “Be careful,” he
said. “You might catch fire.”

At that moment, she didn’t think she’d care.
Fall had come, and the crisp air she had enjoyed earlier now bit
through her, chilling her through the wet dress.

“
Come here,” the Commander
said.

She looked at him with suspicion. “Why?”

“
If you are willing, I will
warm you.”

“
How?” she narrowed her
eyes.

“
Come close to
me.”

Elwytha could think of nothing she’d like
less. But she was freezing. “You would take no liberties?” she said
severely.

Was that amusement in the gray eyes? Yes. She
decided to trust him. He had never taken liberties with her before,
and certainly he’d had ample opportunity.

She scooted closer, as close as she dared,
and then he closed the remaining distance between them. His great
arm went around her shoulders, tugging her close to his warmth.
With a shiver, she pressed close, enjoying his body heat.

“
You trust me,” his deep
voice rumbled near her ear.

“
A little,” she felt loathe
to admit. Confusion surged in her. How could that be? How could she
feel any trust for her family’s enemy? For her brother’s
murderer?

“
A good start.”

What did he mean by that? Elwytha found it
easiest to lay her head on his shoulder, huddled as close as she
was to him. The cloth of his jerkin felt rough beneath her cheek.
His warm hand curled around her clasped cold ones. She allowed it,
accepting his warmth, and his manner of care for her.

The firelight felt warm on her face. After a
while, the chill left her, and she began to feel pleasantly toasty.
Drowsiness made her eyelids heavy. Last night’s disrupted sleep
caught up with her and she drifted peacefully to sleep, feeling
safe in her enemy’s embrace.

* * * * *

The Commander looked at Elwytha, asleep in
his arms, and a powerful, unfamiliar emotion gripped him.
Tenderness?

He was amazed such an emotion could exist in
him.

With that unsettling emotion came longing.
Would that she’d always allow him to hold her, to care for her like
this.

Though she trusted him a little now, he knew
the deeper problem between them still festered like an ugly, oozing
sore. He’d need to lance it before they could ever have true peace.
While necessary, the prospect did not appeal. He had no wish to
hurt her.

Her fingers felt so small and slender in his.
Protectiveness surged hard through him. A more familiar emotion.
But now he wished for something as he’d never wished before. The
love of this woman. He raised his eyes to the heavens. Was it
possible? Could it ever be possible for one such as he?

Chapter
Seven

When Elwytha awoke,
she felt secure and comfortable. Where was she?
She smelled wood smoke, and felt the warmth of a fire…and the
warmth of a man’s body against her and his arm about her. She took
a quick breath. The Commander! She stiffened.

“
I’m warm now,” she said.
Embarrassed, she pulled free and scooted some distance away. What
had she been thinking? Her head still felt groggy from her nap, and
she stared at him, bewildered.

He watched her, his eyes calm and level. For
some reason, that made her feel even more uneasy. It was as if he’d
made a decision about her that she had taken no part in. Nor would
he let her.

Insufferably arrogant and high-handed of him,
as usual. But as he hadn’t said anything, she couldn’t very well
accost him for looking at her in a displeasing way. “The rain has
stopped,” she told him.

“
Yes. Are you ready to
go?”

“
Of course I am. You
promised me a free afternoon, remember?” One freed of his presence.
What could be more splendid?

“
Very well.” He rose to his
great height, and she quickly scrambled up as well, in an effort to
forestall any chivalrous gestures on his part—such as offering a
hand to help her up. Nay. She had already supped too closely of the
Commander’s nearness. Now she wished only to remain far, far from
him.