Part 4 (1/2)
Servanne stiffened, then whirled to face him. ”Ten thousand marks! Are you mad?”
”Are you afraid he will not part with that much silver?”
She released her breath on a gasp of exasperation. ”If you are asking if Lord Lucien has the wealth to pay such an ... an outrageous outrageous sum, the answer is yes. Ten times over.” sum, the answer is yes. Ten times over.”
A dark brow arched inquisitively. ”Then I should have demanded more?”
”No! I mean ... no.” She stopped and chewed savagely on her lip. ”Ten thousand is ...” I mean ... no.” She stopped and chewed savagely on her lip. ”Ten thousand is ...”
”A fair test of his devotion?”
”Too much to expect a man to pay for-”
”A bride whose angelic disposition nearly overwhelms her vast inheritances? Tell me honestly-if you can do such a thing without compromising the staunch beliefs of your gender-have you not wondered what his motives were in seeking this union?”
”His motives!” motives!” Frustrated, Servanne clasped her hands into tight little fists and fought to keep her temper in check. ”The purpose behind your aggravating persistence eludes me, sirrah. What is it Frustrated, Servanne clasped her hands into tight little fists and fought to keep her temper in check. ”The purpose behind your aggravating persistence eludes me, sirrah. What is it exactly exactly that you wish to know? Lord Lucien is a fine, n.o.ble gentleman-” that you wish to know? Lord Lucien is a fine, n.o.ble gentleman-”
”Who loves you to the point of distraction and cannot bear to think of a prolonged separation.”
”A n.o.ble gentleman,” she reiterated furiously, ”who-”
”Who wants something you have, and is willing to sacrifice his much prized freedom to get it.”
She flushed hotly. ”There may have been some consideration given to the dowry, but-”
”My lady,” the rogue laughed outright. ”You are far too modest. With what you bring into the marriage, you will turn Lincoln into his small, private domain. A kingdom, if you will, with a dragon on the throne and a nest of serpents writhing at his feet, eager to do his bidding. Mind, it does you some credit to understand from the outset what he wants from you. Most women would be inclined to look no farther than the closest mirror to explain a sudden, pressing need for wedded bliss.”
”He will not suffer for his bargain,” she said archly.
”Spoken with true humility,” he grinned. ”And for the sins of vanity and ignorance, you shall recite ten pater nosters pater nosters to the good Friar.” to the good Friar.”
”You should be the one begging repentance,” she countered angrily. ”For surely you traded your soul to the Devil long ago. As a Christian, I shall pray for your redemption.”
”Save your prayers for yourself, my lady. You will need them far more than I, whether the ransom is paid or not.”
Servanne gritted her teeth. ”If you are threatening me, or endeavouring to frighten me-”
”My dear lady, I am not endeavouring to frighten you any more than you should be already. In truth, I would rather open your eyes to a few unpleasant facts.”
”By first demanding an outlandish ransom, then suggesting it will not be paid? How truly thoughtful of you, messire. Are you this considerate to all your hostages?”
”One or two have screamed quicker for mercy, but the methods improve with each outing.” He paused and his eyes were lured down to the moist pink arch of her lips. ”Unless I am misinformed, you are Sir Hubert's only surviving heir?”
”I do not see where that is a concern of yours.”
”There was a nephew,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm. ”But I was told he had a fatal accident a few weeks back and fell on his own sword. Three times. Clumsy fellow, would you not say?”
This was the first she had heard of it and her silence caused the slate-gray eyes to fasten on to hers again.
”Moreover, you are an orphan yourself, are you not? As such, should you perish before another husband has been procured, all dower rights of inheritance revert by law to the crown, to be kept, sold, or dispersed as the king sees fit.” ”King Richard would never-”
”King Richard is away on his crusades,” the Wolf interrupted bluntly. ”It would therefore fall to Prince John's discretion, in his role as regent, to dispose of Sir Hubert's properties and chattal. Of the two brothers, which one would you say had the greasier palms?”
”Prince John,” she whispered, intrigued despite herself, to see where this was leading.
”And of the two royal scions, who would have the most to gain by parceling out the late baron's properties quickly and quietly, with as little fuss as possible?”
Prince John, she thought, temporarily chilled out of her anger and weariness. Acting on the king's behalf and using the excuse that the funds raised would be going to finance the Lionheart's crusades in the Holy Land, Sir Hubert's estates could be divided and sold to interested bidders, with a portion of each sale discreetly ending up in the prince's own coffers.
The Black Wolf was watching her reactions closely. ”In the same vein, if I had a choice between paying out ten thousand marks ransom for a bride I had no desire to take in the first place ... or to bide my time and pay a good deal less to buy only those estates I wanted ...” He paused and shrugged his ma.s.sive fur-clad shoulders. ”I might be sorely tempted to let someone else do what my vaunted code of chivalry prevented me from doing myself.”
Servanne blanched, then sprang to her feet.
”Enough!” she cried, incensed beyond reason. ”I will not sit here and endure such insults! Your logic is very sound, coming from a man who is both a traitor and a thief. I have no doubt you would would choose the easier path to obtaining your goal, which only choose the easier path to obtaining your goal, which only proves proves you are not who you claim to be. You are you are not who you claim to be. You are not not Lucien Wardieu. You are not even a Lucien Wardieu. You are not even a man! man! You are a corrupt and twisted shadow of a creature who has obviously decided that stealing a man's ident.i.ty and committing heinous crimes in his good name somehow satiates a petty need inside you to become more than what you are. You have no honour. You have no shame. I hope, nay, I pray for the You are a corrupt and twisted shadow of a creature who has obviously decided that stealing a man's ident.i.ty and committing heinous crimes in his good name somehow satiates a petty need inside you to become more than what you are. You have no honour. You have no shame. I hope, nay, I pray for the real real Lord Lucien to come into these woods and hunt you down! I pray he catches you and stakes you down on the ground, and leaves you there for the dogs and boars to chew away strip by b.l.o.o.d.y strip! Moreover, I pray ... oh, how I do pray to be present when he does so, to have the privilege and immense pleasure of watching you die inch by gored inch!” Lord Lucien to come into these woods and hunt you down! I pray he catches you and stakes you down on the ground, and leaves you there for the dogs and boars to chew away strip by b.l.o.o.d.y strip! Moreover, I pray ... oh, how I do pray to be present when he does so, to have the privilege and immense pleasure of watching you die inch by gored inch!”
She stood there, her face flushed, her chest heaving with anger. Not only the outlaw leader, but every man within earshot of her outburst-which included nearly all present in the pilgrims' hall-had stopped what they were doing to turn and stare.
The Wolf, in particular, was staring at the gleaming, jewelled eating knife she had s.n.a.t.c.hed off the table and was holding in a clenched fist only inches from his nose. Half an eternity pa.s.sed before he spoke, his tone silky, the words said with a quiet intensity that set off a roaring in her ears.
”I met Sir Hubert de Briscourt some years ago in France. A fearsome warrior on the battlefield, he brooked no insult from any quarter, servant or n.o.ble. It is a true wonder then, that in three years of marriage, he was not once driven to strangle you to death.”
Servanne's lips were parted, the cool air giving ghostly substance to her rapid breaths. She stared down into eyes that were like banked fires, glowing and dangerous, apt to erupt at the merest provocation.
”Tut the knife down,” he instructed calmly. ”Or use it.”
For a moment, her fingers tightened, and the knuckles glowed pinkish white. Then her senses cleared and her hand flexed reluctantly open, dropping the knife as if the hilt had suddenly become red hot. The sound shattered the absolute silence, releasing the tension everywhere but in the immediate area of the two princ.i.p.als. They continued to stare at one another over the resumed buzz of movement and conversation.
”Never, ever lift a knife to me again, madam, unless it is done with firm intent”-his voice was so low she could barely hear it-”for you will not be so lucky twice.”
Servanne believed him. Only a blind fool would doubt the savagery that lurked just behind the hooded, soulless eyes.
”You are despicable,” she said, the words tight in her throat. ”I pray to G.o.d I do not live long enough to hate another human being as much as I hate you.”
”Sit down,” he commanded brusquely, ”before the strain of all that prayer drains your strength and accomplishes your desire prematurely.”
”I have no wish to sit down sit down, sirrah. Not now. Not ever.”
His jaw clamped ominously. ”None at all?”
”None.”
”Very well, if that is your wish wish-” He stood abruptly, his patience snapped like a taut thread. ”Sparrow!”
A meek corner of the pale, elfin face peeped around Servanne's skirts. ”Aye, my lord?”
”Have the table and stools cleared away. Lady Servanne will be remaining exactly where she is, by her own request. The night ahead promises to be a cool one, so by all means fetch a mantle and rug for the lady's comfort, but under no circ.u.mstances is she to sit or lie down at any time without first seeking my express permission to do so. If she dares to attempt either, through stubbornness or feint, have her bound hand and foot and chained upright to the wall. Is that understood?”