She didn’t stop her assault even when Conor grabbed her and swung her into the air, her clenched fists wildly striking him in the face and upon the shoulders.
Her face streaked with tears now and her desperate cries echoing Joffrey’s when she screamed, too, right into Conor’s ear.
Grimacing, he didn’t tarry but threw her over his shoulder with his hand splayed upon her backside and carried her back to his dwelling-house, a stricken-faced Orla meeting them at the door.
“Heavens, Conor, have you forgotten your mother’s command? What have you done to upset the poor girl so?”
“Nothing more than to take her outside for some fresh air—ah, God!”
Conor grimaced again at the fierce kick to his abdomen that stopped his breath, his curse more a pained wheeze as he brushed past Orla to carry his struggling captive back inside to his bedchamber.
Aye, a captive, that’s what Annalise was—and he wasn’t going to pretend any longer that she was a guest, no matter his mother’s wish.
The ungrateful wildcat! She could have emasculated him if she’d kicked him any lower, Conor furious now as he kicked open the door and strode across the room to dump Annalise onto the bed.
Her cheeks reddened, her hair tear-dampened and stuck to the side of her face as she stared at him with a withering look that told Conor she clearly thought him an enemy, too.
“I’ll be glad when we’re done with you!” he began, only for Annalise to jump from the bed and try to pummel him again.
Somehow, he grabbed her flailing arms to dodge her blows and drew her against him to try and quiet her, but she fought him even harder and began to kick, too.
Her cries of “I despise you! I despise all of you!” so shrill and piercing that he could think of no other way to silence her than to cover her mouth with his own, her body suddenly stiffening.
Her arms no longer flailing, her foot no longer kicking him as if she’d become frozen in his embrace…Conor kissing her until she seemed to go limp, her lips parting against his and making him groan in surprise.
A groan that made her stiffen again so abruptly that he raised his head to find her staring at him in horror.
The wide-eyed look on her face cutting him to the bone as she clearly thought he intended to ravish her, which made him curse under his breath and push her away from him.
He was gone from the room before she could utter a word, but Annalise began to weep instead.
The piteous sound carrying to him as he stormed past Orla, who rushed into the bedchamber and shut the door behind her.
Not gently at all, but a jarring slam so unlike the kindhearted serving woman that seemed to heighten the disgust Conor felt with himself for treating Annalise so harshly.
Yet what else could he have done to stop her from thrashing him? Shake her? Toss her bodily onto the bed? How would she have looked at him any differently? God help him, he was no ravisher of women!
Now Conor slammed the outer door, too, and set out again at a determined stride toward the stable. Why not another ride this day to free him from the emotion churning inside of him?
Anger, guilt, frustration, and regret all rolled into one even as he knew no hard gallop into the hills would make him forget the sweet softness of Annalise’s lips…his heart pounding and his fists clenched as if he could fight off the realization surging through him.
He was lost, he knew it now—and probably had been from the first moment he’d seen her.
An enemy, a Norman stealing his heart though he knew as well with chilling certainty that she hated him. How could she not after what had just happened between them?
Annalise lay on the bed and clutched her tear-stained pillow, her shoulders still quaking with sobs that would not stop—no matter Orla’s attempts to soothe her.
Conor had no sooner left the room than Annalise had thrown herself upon the mattress in abject despair, her lips still burning from Conor’s kiss.
A kiss that had filled her with terror at what might come next…though she had felt something else, too, and she despised herself for it.
Her heart slamming in her throat as at first, she had stiffened in his arms, so stunned she couldn’t move while his mouth claimed hers.
His lips so insistent and warm she had begun to feel as if she were melting and had gone limp within his embrace.
The bedchamber spinning around her in a dizzying whirl until she heard his husky groan against her mouth that brought her crashing back to reality—and overwhelmed her with fright.
Surely he hadn’t intended to—no, no, she couldn’t bear to think of it, fresh sobs making her feel as if she were choking, she wept so inconsolably.
