Medieval 01 - Untamed

tightness of her body as she waited for a blow to fall said all that was needed.
    â€œGod’s teeth,” Dominic muttered. “’Tis just as well he is dead. It saves me the trouble of sending him to Hell with my own hands.”
    Silence expanded in the room while Dominic studied the girl who looked so fragile, and yet…
    And yet, somehow this slender reed had managed to confound the hopes of a powerful Saxon lord. Though she had flinched at Dominic’s unexpected movement toward her, she had quickly controlled herself. The witch was far from cowed. She sat with spine straight and head high, measuring him even as he measured her.
    Reluctantly Dominic found himself admiring Meg’s spirit, though he knew it would put him to much trouble as a husband.
    This one will come willingly or not at all. God’s teeth, what a trial for a man who wants only peace!
    Then, almost secretly, came another thought. I shall enjoy taming her even more than the peregrine. To hear soft cries of pleasure from her lips as I bathe every part of her in my breath, my touch …
    And to know with each cry that I will have sons of the witch!
    Deliberately Dominic pulled off first one mailed gauntlet, then the other, and tossed them to the table. They thumped heavily into place between the bowl of river pebbles and a box that held bright, fragile twists of floss used for embroidery. A quick glance around the room told him that there was no substantial chair save the one Meg was using.
    â€œThat will have to be remedied,” he muttered.
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    Dominic looked at the wary green eyes that were watching him.
    â€œThere is no place for a man to sit,” he said.
    Gracefully, Meg got to her feet and gestured to the empty chair.
    â€œI’m not such a churl as to take a lady’s chair,” Dominic said.
    â€œI’d rather stand than sit whilst you loom over me with your fists on your hips.”
    Dominic’s mouth formed a wry twist as he realized Meg was correct. His fists were indeed on his hips as though he were about to upbraid a knight for abusing a war-horse or a squire for not taking suitable care of his knight’s armor.
    â€œThe day has been…” Dominic’s voice faded.
    â€œTrying?” offered Meg.
    â€œAye. That and more. ’Tis like having to fight again a battle you were certain was already won.”
    When Meg saw the soul-deep weariness beneath Dominic’s discipline, her heart turned over with thesame compassion for him that she had for the people of Blackthorne Keep; for he was one of them now.
    â€œYour hauberk is heavy, husband. May I help you out of it?”
    Dominic gave her a startled look and nodded.
    The fastenings were unfamiliar to Meg. While she fussed and tugged, Dominic watched her bent head. Scents of spice and roses floated up to him from her hair, reminding him of the soap he had been using since he had come to the keep.
    â€œYou smell like a garden,” Dominic said.
    The change in his voice from weariness to velvet darkness startled Meg. She looked up so quickly that her hair shifted and shimmered like wind-blown flame.
    â€œâ€™Tis my soap.”
    â€œYes. Do I smell like a garden, too?” he asked.
    The humor curling through Dominic’s voice was as unexpected as his question. Meg smiled and ducked her head.
    â€œYou smell of battle,” she said. “Chain mail and leather and urgency. And strength. That most of all.”
    â€œNext time I shall use more of your soap.”
    Meg looked up, curiosity plain in her green eyes. “More, lord?”
    He made a rumbling sound of agreement. “When I bathe.”
    â€œAh, ’tis you who has left the bath such a mess! Here I was blaming poor Duncan.”
    Beneath her hands, Dominic’s body tightened until his muscles stood hard against his hauberk. She felt as much as sensed the sharp return of his rage at the mention of Duncan’s name.
    â€œDo you bathe often with the Scots Hammer?” Dominic asked.
    The velvet seduction of Dominic’s voice was goneas though it had never existed. Meg’s hands tightened and jerked, scraping her knuckles across a stubborn buckle. It gave way suddenly.
    â€œThere,” she said. “’Tis free.”
    She stood on tiptoe to peel one side of the hauberk from Dominic’s body. He turned suddenly, shrugging off the rest of the garment. The weight of it sent Meg