Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(10)

And, too, there was a puzzling glimpse just beneath the surface of her beauty of something to which he could not lay a finger, a hint of sarcasm, a brief flash of insincerity, a strange touch of arrogance. Still, he was convinced that had she any other choice she would not have been here. He knew Orlan Trahern was a man of power but found it difficult to imagine that the man would so constrict the life of his only offspring.

Shanna could bear it no longer and whirled to face him. “Do you find it so distasteful, then, this sharing of your name? Do you say me nay?” Why in heaven’s name did she have to plead with this cloddish knave?

Ruark drew a ragged breath and by an extreme effort of will replied casually. “There’s much to consider here—Shanna?” He peered at her questioningly, arching a dark brow, and at her nod of consent, continued. “My name is all that I have left, and there are those who would be greatly pained at seeing it further dishonored.”

“I promise you, Ruark, that I have no intention of misusing it,” she hastened to assure him. “I will but borrow it for a time and when I have found the one I can love, then ‘twill all be over. If you agree, you’ll be buried with all respect in a well-marked grave in a churchyard. Can those for whom you care then long remember your shame?”

“And for my last days you promise me ease, Shanna?” It was as if he had not heard her. “Yet that will take away my one enjoyment—the challenge of Mister Hicks.”

As if disturbed, Ruark paced the cell, seemingly deep in thought. He paused before the cot, and again his gaze was inquiring.

“Might I sit, Shanna? I apologize as there is no chair for you. If you wish, you may join me here.”

“No—no thank you,” she quickly answered. She glanced down at the filthy straw and could not suppress a shudder.

Taking a seat in the corner, Ruark leaned back against the damp stone wall, drawing up a knee to let his arm rest upon it, the hand dangling limply. His eyes fastened on her, and Shanna steeled herself for the final act. She must make it good. At least he had not yet openly laughed at her.

“Do you think I lightly consider this, Ruark? My father is a man of iron will, and, though he has been called many things, I have never heard a man question his word. I have no doubt that he will do as he said and force me to marry a man I despise.”

Ruark’s contemplation was steady, but no words parted his lips. It was her turn to be nervous and pace, and doing so furthered her cause no small amount. Shanna Trahern moved with the natural grace of one who led an active life and bore nothing of the affected daintiness so often displayed by beauties of the courts and salons. There was a sureness in her stride that lent a smooth, fluid grace to her every movement. Ruark admired every side of her, and for the most part her words missed him, for he had already set the price in his mind and only waited the moment.

Shanna stopped, and, resting her hands on the table, leaned toward him. The gown opened enticingly, and she saw his eyes fall where she wanted them.

“Ruark,” she said firmly, and his gaze raised reluctantly to meet hers. “Is there something about me which you find distasteful?”

“Nay, Shanna, my love.” His voice was hushed but sounded hollow in the cell. “You are beautiful beyond my imagination. And I have enjoyed this repast so much I would not see its end. But please consider this. If your cause is really so dear, I will bargain with you for my name, but the price will be high, Shanna. And I ask you say me yea or nay before you leave, for that suspense I could not bear.”

Shanna held her breath in fear of what he was about to say.

“My price is this.” His words echoed through her brain. “The marriage will be one in fact as well as vow. I am condemned to hang, and I would elect the chance to leave an heir. The cost is that you spend the night with me and consummate the vows in deed as well as words.”

Her breath came out in a rush and her eyes flared with anger. She gasped in stunned rage at his affront. That he should dare! Shanna was set to shriek her fury in his face, but his laughter rang in the cell and brought quick death to her ire. Swinging both legs onto the cot and clasping his hands behind his head, he was as relaxed as if he were in some inn swigging ale.

“Ah, yes,” he chuckled derisively. “I thought that might see the real price of your predicament. You seek my name for a cause so dear, this name which is my last and sole possession and mine alone to give. When I ask the same of you—that the cost be what is yours alone to give—then the price is much too dear. So you reject the price, deny the bargain, and will be seen to that end your father wills.”