“You have the tongue of a witch-—or a viper.”
“My tongue is honeyed for some.”
His blue eyes blazed. “For whom?”
“For those I respect—and love.”
“For whom?”
Her chin lifted. “It is not your affair!”
“No matter,” he said, after a moment. “For soon it will be my affair, and then it will be ended.” His look was unyielding in its purpose. Ceidre decided not to respond. But when he rudely dragged her to her feet, she cursed and twisted away.
“A viper,” he muttered.
“Go back to your leman,” she hissed.
“I have no more use for her,” he said.
Ceidre folded her arms and leered. “No?”
He started to smile. “The only use I have,” he said, “now, is for you.” His tone, amazingly, had softened. Now it cajoled. “Come here, Alice.”
Ceidre was incredulous.
“We are going to be wed, you and I, and there is nothing you can do to change that. Reconcile yourself to your fate. Come here.” Silky soft.
“No.”
“Show me your goodwill.” Softer still. “I have none!”
“Think again. I know you are not dumb.” “I have none!”
“So you will fight me to the end.”
“Yes,” Ceidre said stubbornly, desperately.
His eyes glinted. “We shall see.”
“What did you do to him?”
Ceidre stood behind Rolfe as he bent over Guy, now sound asleep. Rolfe straightened and turned, grim and angry. “Answer me, wench.”
She stepped back, her heart starting to slam.
He took a step toward her.
“Nothing.” She gasped.
He grabbed her before she could react. “You put something in the ale! What?”
He was shrewd, and she would remember it well. “Just a sleeping potion,” Ceidre cried. “He will awaken shortly!”
Rolfe released her. “Are there any other effects?”
“He will be sleepy for a while, but then he will be fine.”
Rolfe’s flashing look told her she was very, very lucky she had not truly harmed his man. “Where did you get this potion?”
