Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(123)

The venomous barb was calculatingly delivered. Trying to ignore his laughter, she lifted her shaking fingers to the welt on the back of her head. She winced to feel the wound covered in dry blood. “What did you do to me, Cedric?”

“Oh, that. It would seem m’lady fainted and fell upon my fist.” He laughed harder and the piece of leather jiggled from side to side at the movement.

“You dared to lay a hand on me?” Della bristled in disgust. Her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears. She mentally checked her insides for any feelings of violation. Satisfied the welt was the only injury done to her, she sighed in relief. His insistent chomping turned her stomach and she looked at the crumbling fireplace instead. The low fire crackled, but didn’t drown out the sound of his mouth. “You dare to lay hand on a lady?”

“You deserved it, making me churn butter.” Sulking at her reprimand, he didn’t meet her eyes. “It is woman’s work.”

“Why, Cedric? Do the codes of honor mean naught to you? You swore allegiance to Lord Blackwell. Your name will be forever scarred by this folly. You will be blackened for eternity.” Della focused her attention haughtily on him. She had years of practice behind her and knew how to handle fighting men. In her most commanding tone, she ordered, “Take me back and I will ask Blackwell to be lenient with you.”

“You dare to question my honor? You, a faithless woman?” The leather dropped from his mouth, falling to the floor as he stood. Towering over her until she cowered on the bed, he sneered. “Where was yer honor when you took Blackwell to yer bed? Where was yer loyalty to my Lord Grayson?”

“Lord Grayson? What does my dead uncle have to do with this?”

“I have sworn my loyalty to the living Lord Grayson, rightful Ealdorman of Strathfeld.”

Della frowned. He was calling Stuart, Lord Grayson? Stuart was only a knight.

“I didn’t come to the manor with Blackwell, nor did I reside there under yer sire, but you would little notice a single soldier. The Vikings thought I hailed from the keep and yer sire’s men thought I was with the Vikings. No one questioned my presence. Why would they? What with the commotion of the raids.”

Della saw the truth reflected in the man’s eyes. He was responsible for the raids, if not in whole, at least in part. And he’d shown her the Viking pouch. She refused to reveal her fear. “You killed those people? They were innocent.”

“They were peasants. They had more use in death than they ever did in life.” Cedric chuckled, pleased with his actions. Spit flew from his mouth and landed on her face. Della grimaced, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “You should have seen yer face when I held up my satchel. It was most amusing. We didn’t expect you to come along that morn, but methinks I handled matters. And you believed the lie so readily.”

“Where is my cousin? Send him to me at once!” Della straightened her spine, yelling up at him. “When he finds out what you have done—”

Cedric slapped her with the back of his hand, effectively spinning her words into silence. She touched her cheek in shock. When he lifted his hand again, she flinched. The man laughed.

“You would do well to remember that you don’t command me, m’lady,” Cedric broke in to her would-be protest as he withdrew his hand. He eyed her face and she knew a red handprint probably marred her flesh. It would turn into a bruise. His gaze traveled down to her breasts, ogling them as he lewdly continued. “Nor can you control what I do to you.”

“You would not dare to lay another hand on me. If you do not fear my husband’s wrath, then fear my cousin’s. Do you think he will take kindly to your mishandlings?” Della tucked the furs under her chin. Pointing to the chamber door, she yelled, “Begone from my sight at once.”

Again Cedric laughed maliciously. His whole body shook as he left without saying another word. Della’s gaze fell on the discarded piece of wet leather on the floor.

What am I going to do? I don’t even know where I am.

Cedric’s blow caused the throbbing in her head to worsen. Nevertheless, she gave herself little time to dwell on her sorry state. Forcing herself into action, she edged to the side of the bed and made sure her gown didn’t overly expose her body. She placed her feet on the floor and regally lifted her chin. When the door opened, she was ready to face Stuart.

“Stuart.” She tilted her head in acknowledgement, watching him through cold, hard eyes. Balling her hand into a fist, she suddenly wished she knew how to fight with her hands.

“Della.” He smiled his old, familiar smile and strolled into the chamber as if nothing was amiss. The look reminded her of the boy he’d been. His face was clean-shaven, his clothes laundered and pressed. When he smiled, the dimple in his cheek appeared to add an impish charm to his face. His eyes no longer brimmed with an insane red, but were clear and rested.