The Commander's Desire (16 page)

Truly, he plotted still more. But what this
time? She inclined her head. “I must ready for supper.”

“
I look forward to seeing
you soon.” His intense look jolted her heart. It was one a man gave
a woman—his woman. Possessive. And a promise that he would
accomplish exactly what he desired.

He left. Heart beating
uncomfortably fast, Elwytha watched his large form stride off. He
considered her his. He
wanted
her to be his—why else would he desire
peace?

Why didn’t these thoughts repulse her as they
would have five days ago? Elwytha felt jumbled inside, and
endeavored to erase her betrothed from her mind entirely.

Chapter
Nine

Elwytha dressed with
care
for the evening meal. She would not
look at her motivations too closely. The burgundy dress pleased
her, and she wished to look nice for once, she reasoned. She was
tired of feeling like a frumpy wash woman in drab
garments.

She bathed, and then arranged her long hair
atop her head, dripping tendrils down her neck. She liked what she
saw in the mirror. At long last she looked and felt like the
princess she was.

Taking a breath, she exited to the
Commander’s chamber. It was empty. Surprise plunged through her.
Wasn’t it time for the evening meal?

She heard voices in the hall, and then the
Commander entered, speaking over his shoulder to someone. “At first
light,” he agreed, and shut the door. He glanced at her.

Surprise—nay, shock—flickered across his
features. He took a step closer. “Elwytha.” His voice dropped to a
deep timbre. Swiftly, his gaze ran down her form. “You look
beautiful.”

Elwytha felt pleasure, but tried not to
reveal it. “Thank you.”

He stared at her for several long breaths,
and then moved toward his wardrobe. “I will be ready in a
moment.”

“
I’ll wait in the hall.”
Regally, she swept out the door and closed it. She leaned against
the wall. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Why? Because of the
Commander’s words? How he had looked at her?

How could his opinion matter in the least?
Elwytha bit her lip and tried not to think too closely on these
disturbing questions. She reminded herself that he was her
brother’s murderer.

She stopped thinking when he opened the door.
His eyes searched hers, and he offered his arm. “Walk with me?”
Feeling trepidation, she did as he bid, curling her hand under his
muscular forearm.

Discomfort jangled with every step that took
them closer to the dining hall. This felt too intimate somehow. It
seemed too much as if, by her dress, attire, and by appearing her
regal self on the Commander’s arm, she was declaring that she did
indeed belong to him. That she gave full assent to their
marriage.

Before they reached the hall she snatched her
hand away, heart pounding. “I…I can’t do this.”

He faced her. “Why?” An unknown emotion
flickered in the slate eyes, but he waited patiently.

“
I only wished to look nice
tonight. I…I don’t want you…” Her words faltered.

He waited, making her say it. How she hated
his cold heart for that.

She said, “I don’t want you to think I’ve
changed my mind about our marriage.”

“
You still do not wish
it.”

She heaved a breath of relief. “Yes. I do not
wish it.”

“
Would you break your word,
then?”

“
No. I…I just don’t want you
to think…”

“
That you dressed to please
me.”

“
Yes.” She felt further
relief that he understood.

His gaze held hers. “Didn’t you?”

Her jaw dropped. “Nay! I dressed to please
myself. I tire of appearing a frump.”

“
Verily.” His hand closed
around hers, and he raised it to his lips. His warm caress felt
like scattering leaves on a windy day. Light, erratic pulses
flickered through her skin, and her nerves. She stared at him,
mouth slightly agape. She snapped it shut and tugged her hand free.
Her face felt warm.

“
Kindly bestow no caresses
upon my person.”

He smiled, but made no such promise. “Please
hold my arm. It gives me pride to walk beside you into the
hall.”

Put like that, how could Elwytha resist?

“
Very well,” she said, as if
bestowing a favor upon him. Her fingers curled around his arm again
and they entered the hall.

Instant silence fell. No unseemly hoots or
hollers. Most unlike the knaves.

Finally, a rumbling murmur swelled, and a few
men whistled. Elwytha’s ears burned, but she endeavored to ignore
them, and lifted her chin high until they arrived at their
table.

The Prince offered a mocking smile. “At last
you bestow honor upon the Commander. You look a fitting bride for a
king.”

“
I dressed to please neither
of you,” Elwytha retorted. “I felt it time to remind you, as well
as your subjects,” she flicked a glance at the Commander, who, with
that steady, amused gaze looked like a subject to no one, “that I
am a person of royalty, deserving of your honor and
respect.”

“
Mayhap you wish us to kneel
at your feet?” the Prince said.

“
Nay. Only insecure fools
require their subject’s adulation,” she scorned. “I have no wish to
languish upon a throne, sneering down at my subjects. Nay,” she
said, spooning up a bit of stew, “I would look a man in the eye and
treat him like an equal.”

“
Thus your royal airs now,”
the Prince said.

Elwytha lifted her nose disdainfully. “Your
grace sports with me.” She sent him a piercing look. “Mayhap
because only games entertain your bored mind. Games with me. Games
with my brother. Tell me, Prince, I confess curiosity. Why did you
betroth me to the Commander? To inflict further misery upon me? Or
to mock my brother’s death?”

The Prince glanced at his first-in-command.
“I did not mock you when I offered you to the Commander.”

“
Truly.” Elwytha stared at
him, teeth gritted. “It was a slap in the face. You knew that fact
when you joined me to one of your commoners. Even worse, the one
who murdered my brother.”

Beside her, tension stiffened the Commander’s
shoulders. “You think me a commoner?” he growled in a low voice.
“Verily, a bastard, and beneath your notice.” The slate gaze bored
into her.

Her pulse leaped with apprehension. “Nay. I
misspoke. I wished only to know why the Prince offered my hand to
you.”

The Prince curled his lip, staring straight
at her. He lifted a cup of ale. “You deserve your fate, Princess.
Would that you’d appreciate my offer of peace, instead of insulting
my right hand.”

The Commander’s hand fisted, knuckles white,
on the table. He lowered his head, not looking at her, and speared
up a bite of grouse in his trencher.

She had hurt his feelings.

Sorrow pierced her, and repentance. “Truly,”
she said, “I don’t think of you as a commoner.” To her surprise,
she didn’t. He had well earned the Prince’s respect, and he gained
more of hers every day. “And I don’t think of you as a
bastard…except in relation to my brother’s death.”

Her betrothed heaved a great breath, but
still did not look at her. “Your words betrayed you, Princess,” he
said, too quietly. “Verily, you think me a monster. You have from
the beginning. Do not try to whitewash the truth.”

Elwytha didn’t know what to say. Her royal
airs and her foolish words had created a rift between herself and
the Commander. What was the saying? Pride cometh before
destruction? In truth, she did not like herself much these
days.

Silently, she fell to her meal, and tried to
swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. She didn’t know how
to erase her words. Both men thought she was a pompous, preening
princess now. Her own words condemned her. It was ironic, for at
home she felt no different than any of the palace subjects. She
treated all with respect. All had been made by God. She was no
better. She sipped water now, thinking on the treachery corrupting
her soul. Indeed, perhaps she was worse.

Elwytha finished her meal, and said quietly,
“I would retire. Goodnight.”

The Commander let her go with barely a
glance. Elwytha hurried to her chamber, feeling very alone. Inside,
she slammed the door and flung herself upon the bed. Tears of
remorse wet her cheeks, and she silently wept into her pillow,
feeling sorrow for losing the Commander’s respect.

* * * * *

“
She appears heartbroken,”
the Prince said, watching Elwytha hurry away.

The sore wound inside the Commander festered
yet again. Elwytha had sliced right through his oldest scar; the
agony of his youth, of being labeled a bastard. Of having a father
who refused to acknowledge him. Who let him live in squalor. He had
come to accept that, even understand it. But the taunts of the
other youths…

Bastard. He had begun to think it his true
name for many a year. Only the Prince’s friendship had made him
feel honored, and that he was worth something. A huge reason why he
had become the man he was today.

“
Nay,” he said now, drinking
deeply of his water cup. “She thinks nothing of me. I am worse than
a bastard to her. I’m a murdering knave!” His great fist crashed on
the table, surprising even himself. He shook inside, for the first
time feeling helpless. Hopeless. He was a fool to think Elwytha
would ever accept him as a husband. Let alone love him! What a fool
he was. His grip tightened on his dagger.

“
Careful,” said the Prince.
“Don’t unman yourself. She’s not worth it.”

The Commander glared.
“She
is,
” he said
through his teeth.

“
She doesn’t respect you.”
The Prince watched him.

“
She hates me.”

“
You still wish to have
her?”

“
Yes,” the Commander
growled, hating himself for his weakness.

“
Then speak to her. You are
a warrior. Don’t allow her to defeat you.” His childhood friend
encouraged him, as he’d always done. “And if she washes her hands
of you, I wash my hands of Richard. Verily, this brother will get
the sword he deserves.”

The Commander nodded. He felt better. “Thank
you. I will do as you suggest.”

The Prince smiled. “Accept only victory,
Commander.”

* * * * *

Elwytha lay on her bed, sniffling. How could
the goodwill of that man—her brother’s murderer, she reminded
herself—matter to her? And yet it did.

A knock sounded on her door.

Who was that? She sat up quickly, wiping her
cheeks. “Yes?”

No answer.

Feeling trepidation, she arose and opened it.
The Commander frowned down at her. His gaze scanned her wet face
and the frown vanished. “Why are you crying?” His voice sounded
surprisingly gentle.

Elwytha had no wish to pretend now. She would
clear the air between them. She wordlessly waved her hand. “Because
I acted pompous and foolish. I’m sorry for the hurtful things I
said about you.”

“
You care what I think?” He
sounded surprised.

Elwytha realized that his words replayed
their conversation earlier today. Only then, he had admitted to
caring what she thought of him. She scanned his familiar
features—the bent nose, the mutilated brow. The keen, intelligent
eyes. Through them, and through his actions, she saw the real
man.

“
Yes,” she said simply. “I’m
not saying we can ever have peace. But…” How could she respect this
man so much? Why did his opinion of her matter? “Please forgive
me,” she appealed.

He smiled then, a small one, but it lightened
his eyes to pure silver. Elwytha drew a quick breath. Verily, it
was the most mesmerizing color she had ever seen.

“
Goodnight,
Elwytha.”

She smiled, too. Truly, he had forgiven her.
“Goodnight, Commander.”

Chapter
Ten

The next morning,
Elwytha awoke with a feeling of disquiet. It
intensified as she thought on the scenes between herself and the
Commander last night. His opinion mattered too much. He was her
enemy, for goodness’ sake.

But she didn’t know if he had killed Thor or
not. Deep inside, something urged her to believe he was telling the
truth. But how could that be so? Who else could have killed
Thor?

Even if he hadn’t killed Thor—a very big
if—he was still the enemy of her palace. Indeed, he was the
Commander of the entire enemy force. She was becoming too
emotionally involved with him. First vicious hatred,
fights…confrontations. He wanted to break through the barriers
between them. She sensed it. And he had admitted as much yesterday,
when he had said he wanted peace with her.

They could not have peace. He was her enemy,
period—whether he had killed Thor or not. She couldn’t forget this.
She needed space from him. Things were entirely too volatile
between them. Every time she saw him another piece of her armor
against him was chipped away—relentlessly—just like the man he was.
And it made the tug of war between honor and the treachery in her
soul even worse.

Space was what she needed. And she needed to
spy upon the armory again.

Elwytha quickly ate a breakfast of toast and
tea, then dressed in the tiresome gray dress. Thankfully, when she
exited her chamber, the Commander was nowhere to be seen.