Rowena answered before Bernard could. “He thought to mimic you and carry me, but found he must grow some ere he starts acting the barbarian in forcing women to his will.”
The double gibe was not lost on either male. Bernard flushed with angry color. Warrick smiled, that chilling smile she hated.
“So my new serf has claws, does she?” he remarked. “I will have to see what I can do about plucking them. Come inside, Rowena.”
She did not move an inch, horrified by what she had just done. What had made her think she could taunt and insult him without paying for it? But as long as she was damned anyway…
“I—I am through accepting punishments that have naught to do with—” She cast a glance at Bernard before ending with, “What lies between us. Do you want me in there, you will have to drag me in. I told you, I do not go willingly.”
It would have been nice if Bernard were not blocking the only exit from there, but he was, and so there was nowhere to run to when Warrick accepted her challenge and came to get her. And although she tried with every bit of strength she possessed to remove her wrist from the clamp of his fingers, she was summarily dragged into his solar, where he slammed the door closed behind them. Nor did he stop until he had reached his bed and shoved her down on it.
Then slowly, with a good deal of obvious pleasure, he lowered his body over hers until she was left with the sure knowledge that she could not budge him.
“You see now how little it matters, your unwillingness?” he taunted.
“I hate you.”
“The feeling is returned wholeheartedly, and I assure you I am much better at it than you could ever be.” He was wearing his cruel smile, so she had little doubt about that either.
Suddenly she felt like crying. A few tears even gathered to brighten her eyes to a jewellike radiance.
He noticed and studied them thoughtfully for a moment before he said, “You would not be thinking to make this easy for me, would you? Where is the fight you promised me?”
“You take too much pleasure in my hate and my resistance. I would prefer not to give you any pleasure at all.”
“Selfish, wench,” he chided, though there was suddenly real humor in his eyes. “So you think to lie there like a dead thing and hope I will grow bored and let you go?”
She had yet to meet this particular mood of his and said warily, “Now that you mention it…”
He laughed, confounding her, and laughed even more when he saw her confusion. Then his hand came to her cheek, so gentle, and his thumb rubbed slowly, tantalizingly, over her full lower lip.
“What am I to do with you?”
The question did not seem to be for her, actually, merely was he wondering it aloud. But she answered him anyway. “Let me go.”
“Nay, never that,” he said softly as his eyes dropped to her lips. “You were virgin in more than one area. What about these, too?”
There was warmth now in his eyes and smile that made him so handsome she was nearly mesmerized. And then his lips touched hers.
She had seen it coming, had been prepared to resist, but she was unprepared for the unexpected involvement of the rest of her that she had no control of. His tongue licked at her lips, and she felt sensations in her belly. His tongue slipped between her teeth to caress her own, and she felt heat in her loins.
’Twas true that no lover’s lips had ever shown her the way of kissing. What Gilbert had done just before he left her to Warrick’s mercy was naught like this. That kiss had been brief, hard, and repugnant to her. This one was soft, unending, and she wished she were not being made to know the difference. There should have been no difference. But she could not deny this was another thing about her enemy that she did not mind.
“As I thought, another virgin terrain to explore,” he said, and seemed pleased by it. “You must have been locked away until I found you.”
Words seemed to be the only defense he would allow her. She used them now as a desperate measure, for she realized that she would have herself to fight as much as him if this continued.
“You did not find me, you were foundforme. Remember that, and that you do not really want to do this. Let me go, Warrick.”
His answer was to kiss her again, a kiss not so gentle this time, but still not the least bit repulsive. In fact, she was caught up in the passion of it so quickly, she forgot the taunt she had just used to avoid it.
He did not. He was as angry with her as she had hoped he would be, merely was the result not what she had wanted. Nor did she become aware of it until much later, when she heard his whispered command, “Beg me,” and she had reached the point of such frustrating need—that she did.
Chapter 23
Warrick was in a bemused state of utter repletion and disgruntlement. Neither feeling sat well with him at the moment, but neither would leave him alone. The one made him wish he could deny the other, but he could not, for burying himself deep inside that flaxen-haired witch had been unbelievably satisfying. Of course, obtaining revenge against her had made it so good. Such immense pleasure could not be for any other reason.
But he should not have experienced that at all, for he had had no intention of touching her again after she had been released from her chains. He had meant to continue plaguing her, certainly, and heaping shame on her. He still meant to, for he had not allowed her to live without paying a price for it, and he wanted her constantly reminded of that.
