He reached behind him on the shelf and lifted the wine bottle and a cup, pouring a draught into the latter.
“Perhaps a small libation will settle your nerves, Shanna. A bit of sherry?”
“My nerves!” The words were lashed out. “Sir, ‘tis your nerve that must be reckoned with.” She took the mug he held toward her and sampled a drop, wrinkling her nose then sneering into his warming gaze. “Of that, dear Ruark, you have no short supply.”
“You abuse me, madam.” His hand reached out toward her tresses but paused as her quirt lifted again. He shrugged. “I but know my wants and seek these out.”
“Dear Ruark,” Shanna gritted venomously. “When I give myself to a man, ‘twill be under the vows of marriage with all the love I can muster.”
Ruark chuckled and placed his foot on the bed, leaning an elbow across his knee. “Will you not settle for my everlasting adoration and the bonds of a bargain fairly set? I could add,” he gestured casually, “the vows have already—”
“Oh, you crude—!” Shanna was speechless at his brazen disregard of grace. “I have a dream—”
“No dream!” His reply snapped back. “But a barrier set against a flesh-and-blood man.”
“Have you so little honor that you would hold me to so vile a bargain?”
“Honor? Aye, I have it.” He tossed his head and stared at her, his amber eyes brittle. “And what have you? To offer yourself for a whim and, when once rightly paid, deny the pact?”
Angry tears stung Shanna’s eyes. “I was gently born and tenderly reared but then bent to the will of another!”
“Aye.” His tone was scornful. “The virgin Shanna, cruelly betrayed.”
“I will not be dictated to!” Rigid with fury, turbulent tears streaming down her cheeks, she glared at him.
“Oh?” Ruark feigned surprise. “So now ‘tis the Queen Shanna, regal, domineering. Hide behind your thorny throne, my love. Never be a woman!”
“Oh, you filthy clod!”
“Shanna.” His voice was flat, hard, and biting. “Grow up.”
The quirt lashed out and struck his chest and, coming back, cracked again. She raised it for another blow, but his hand knocked the whip aside, and it sailed from her grasp. Shanna’s rage had mounted to violent proportions. The open palm of her empty hand completed the stroke upon his cheek and returned with the back of it against his other while her eyes blazed her hatred. Of a sudden her wrist was seized in a grasp of iron, and her arm was twisted behind her back, crushing her against his naked chest which bore two livid weals across it. Her temper soared the higher at this restraint, and Shanna tried to raise her other hand to claw at that smirking face before her, but his arm encircled her until she could not move. She was caught to him, her breath hissing between clenched teeth and her bosom heaving against his chest.
“Enough, Shanna love,” he bade sharply. “You have taken both cheeks ‘ere I had a chance to turn the other.”
His embrace tightened about her until her toes cleared the floor and Shanna lay against him, gasping for breath. His mouth swooped down upon hers, twisting, bruising, rousing, his tongue thrusting through like a brand, searing her, possessing her. Shanna struggled weakly, trying to summon some logic from the chaos in her mind. Pleasure seeped through the barrier of her own will. The brutal crush of his lips on hers, his strong arms holding her clasped to his work-hardened frame became somehow bearable, and she was answering, not fighting anymore, growing warm. Then his arms were gone, and she stumbled free of him, coming up against the open door. The amber eyes were puzzled as he stared at her for a moment; then they filled with anger.
“Arm yourself, Shanna. No young girl’s wiles will see you safely away from me. I will have you when and where I bid.”
Fear rose up within her, not of him but of herself, for in spite of her words, she wanted to draw him down with her upon the narrow pallet and show him once and for all time that she was more a woman than he could guess. Shaking, Shanna bit the back of her hand, seeking pain to awaken her will. Whirling, she ran from the hovel, not pausing until she stood gasping against Attila’s side. She had to wait for her strength to return before she could heave herself to the saddle. Her face burned where his unshaven chin had rasped against her tender flesh.
Miserably she stared back into the dark alleyway. Had he seen? Did he know the sudden naked desire that must have shone in her eyes?
It was a long ride back to the manor.
Chapter 7
SHANNA RODE ATTILA along the beach until he wheezed, yet she found no pleasure in the exhausting pace. In the afternoons she went swimming, but the water was tepid and filled with weeds; she found no pleasure there, either. In the weeks that passed, she took special care to keep to herself, even avoiding her father unless he was alone. His worried frowns and concerned questions began to wear on her. But she could not bring herself to face the man, John Ruark, and so remained alone.