The Commander's Desire (3 page)

The warm water lapped about her shoulders,
but apprehension slid through Elwytha. She refused to acknowledge
the fear swirling through her insides like so many viperous snakes.
She felt vulnerable in the tub, and wished she had brought a knife
in with her. Foolish of her. Now she would have to live by her wits
alone.

Perhaps she should wash. Who knew when she’d
next have the opportunity? She did so quickly, anxious to escape
and speedily clothe herself from his prying eyes.

Now she heard nothing. “May I have my clothes
back now?”

“
As you have suggested, I
must inspect your person,” the deep voice rumbled. “Or I can call
for a maid to do so.” To her alarm, the giant appeared at the edge
of the partition.

With a horrified gasp, she crossed her arms
to cover herself. “Have you no social graces?” Elwytha endeavored
to sound coolly disdainful, as though he were a worm, and beneath
contempt. But underneath the concealing warm water her limbs
trembled. Thankfully, he couldn’t see it. Never would she let him
see fear.

“
Bubbles protect you. For
now.” The frightening face looked harder now, as if covering anger.
But anger at what?

“
I will accept a maid. Leave
me,” she commanded.

After a hesitation, he disappeared from view,
to her relief.

Soon afterward a maid appeared, clutching a
white, fine linen robe and a thick woolen towel. Her hair was
plaited in a circle about her head, and she looked to be Elwytha’s
age. Her shoulders were hunched, and she looked frightened. “These
are for you, miss.”

Elwytha took the towel, but refused help with
drying off. At home her maid only accompanied her for propriety’s
sake, for she conversed with many men. Never did she require help
dressing.

“
Hagma,” rumbled the giant.
“Weapons?”

“
None.” The maid’s voice
sounded breathless and squeaky. “Miss, he said you are to wear the
white robe and then go sit in the chair.”

Elwytha stiffened her spine and tightened the
sash on the flimsy robe. Although it belonged to the enemy, she
couldn’t help but admire the fine golden embroidery and bead work
edging the lapels and sleeves. “Very well.”

She moved into the main room and stood beside
the chair, which was pushed next to a small, round table.

“
Hagma, you may go.” Voice
mild, the Commander dismissed the maid.

“
This is inappropriate,”
Elwytha flared. “My brother will be most displeased with your
treatment of me.”

“
Sit.” The word was quiet,
with the force of thunder behind it.

She sat, feeling fear curl in her stomach.
Perhaps now she should choose her battles carefully.

He fingered her golden circlet headband,
inlaid with jewels. Each acknowledged her skill level with the
different weapons of war. Swords, spears…and knives. She felt naked
without her knives. Defenseless.

He lay the circlet on the table before her,
but she made no move to touch it.

“
Take it. It is yours.” The
voice still sounded mild, and that scared her still more. She
decided to look at him to gauge his mood, and therefore her
responses. Something told her that now was the time to take
care.

Her eyes met his for the first time at close
range, and a disconcerted jolt went through her. They were a clear,
light gray, and keenly intelligent. Disturbed, she looked away.
“Yes,” she said shortly. “It is mine.”

“
Tell me its
significance.”

She narrowed her eyes and lied. “It is a
crown. I am a princess. Remember?”

He grunted and paced away, as if
thinking.

“
May I dress now?” she
inquired. “Savage though you are, surely you know the basics of
propriety.”

He did not answer, and fear mixed with her
burning desire to be rid of his vile, monstrous presence.

She stood. “Leave. I wish to dress.” Elwytha
snatched the clothes his filthy paws had soiled by his touch and
headed for the partition.

A huge hand clamped on her wrist and she
gasped, startled. How had he done that? A second ago he had been
six paces distant.

“
Sit,” he told her
again.

“
I do not wish to sit.
Release me.” She wrenched at her arm. His grip tightened, hurting
her, but she did not cry out. She stared up at his hulking presence
and swallowed, unable to deny a sting of fear. If he knew her true
identity…her true capabilities…would he kill her? No one knew of
her secret, that she often rode into battle dressed like a page. No
one except for her only living sibling.

The Commander said, “Give me your
knives.”

Elwytha drew a quick breath. “I have no
knives,” she lied coolly.

“
You are a warrior.” He
lifted the circlet with one finger. “You carry knives.”

She wrenched at her arm again. “No.”

“
I am no fool. But perhaps
you think I look stupid. You have decided I am a monster with gruel
for brains?”

She was fast beginning to think the opposite,
which only made him a more formidable foe. “You said it, not me,”
she returned, seeking for a cool sounding bravado.

“
You think I will kill you
if I discover you are a warrior.”

She glared up at him, lips sealed. Exactly.
That was exactly her fear. How easily he could kill her now, since
she was defenseless, with no knives. A twist of his hands around
her neck and that would be it. After killing her brother in such a
despicable manner, what would stop him from killing her, an unarmed
woman, if he believed her a threat?

Desperately, she glanced about the room,
searching for any potential weapon. A sash. Pottery she could smash
for a sharp edge—anything.

“
You will find no weapon.”
The Commander’s uncommonly deep voice wrenched her attention back
to his face and the keen gray eyes, which disturbed her, because
she would rather believe him an unthinking brute beast. “I would
treat you kindly, but first you must surrender your
blades.”

“
I have no knives. No
blades. Do you live in paranoia in this palace?”

“
You are our
enemy.”

“
Then why take a wife who
might cut your throat?”

If she had wanted to jar him, she had
succeeded. The grip on her wrist tightened, and a large hand
gripped her other wrist, too. He drew her near to him. His jerkin
was made of supple brown leather with leather laces, she noticed
with some fragmented part of her brain.

“
Give me your blades,” he
growled down at her.

Fear pounded in her chest, and she licked her
dry lips. “You found no blades when you pawed through my clothes.
The maid found none on my person. Perhaps that is because I have
none.”

“
I don’t trust
you.”

She smiled.
As well you shouldn’t.
However, she said, “How can we have a marriage with no
trust?”

“
Come with me.” He forced
her toward the door. “You will not return to this room.”

“
But my clothes!”

“
You will have new clothes.
Clothes with no holes for pockets. Clothes that provide no access
to the blade at your thigh.”

“
Nonsense.” Unthinking, she
struggled and then, to her consternation, he picked her up and
tossed her over his shoulder. She cried out in fear and horrified
humiliation. “Put me down!” She pounded on his broad back. “Put me
down, you monstrous serf!”

He strode silently through the halls. She
squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to see the others witnessing her
humiliation. “Put me down. Put me down at once!” she gasped. She
bit her lip, trying to stop the weak tears of a woman, not a
warrior. She sniffed and finally stopped struggling, and hung down
his back. His belt about his jerkin was within reach. If only she
could loosen it, she could cinch it around his massive neck! It was
only a hopeless fantasy, of course.

“
Where are you taking me?”
she demanded, voice muffled. Perhaps if she pretended submission he
would return her to her feet. And if she found a dagger, she’d
gladly plunge it through his heart.

“
To my chambers.”

“
Nay!” she gasped out, and
struggled in earnest then. “I have decided you are unacceptable to
me. You have none of the finer qualities I require in a
husband.”

“
This surprises
you?”

“
I will not marry
you!”

“
Yet, you mean,” he
rumbled, and stopped before a door. She took the opportunity of his
distraction while opening it and flung her body off his shoulder.
She fell with crash to the floor, on her back. The breath whumped
out of her. She saw stars for a moment, and then her vision
cleared. She stared up at her monstrous captor, who regarded her
with some surprise.

She flew to her feet, ignoring twinges of
pain, but before she could run one step, his hand gripped her arm.
He pushed open the door to his chambers with his foot.

“
No,” she cried out, and
fell to her knees, forcing him to drag her. “I will not be defiled
by you. Unhand me, or I’ll scream!”

“
Scream all you wish. It
will fuel my reputation.”

He scooped her up in his rock-like arms,
slammed the door, and strode across the room. He dumped her into
the middle of a massive bed. “You are home. You will stay here,
where I can watch you.”

She sprang up, utterly horrified. “No! You
vile, filthy man! This is inappropriate. I will break the peace
agreement.”

“
It is done.”

“
It is not done until I am
wed to you,” she snarled.

“
Do you wish a maid? I will
send for Hagma.”

“
I wish for my own room.”
Elwytha trembled with stark fear, but struggled to cling to her
self-possession. “I will not have my reputation soiled by a beast
such as you.”

“
You will have your own
room. There.” He pointed, and she twisted her neck to look. A door
led off his room to a small chamber beyond.

“
Never,” she gasped. “I wish
to be in a different wing of the palace. I wish for solitude to
contemplate marriage to one as despicable as yourself!”

“
You wish for much. I will
grant you a maid. Do you wish one?” he asked again.

On some level, she was surprised he asked.
But what good would a maid do her? If he tried to have his way with
her, would the maid save her? Nay. And what if Elwytha retrieved
her blades? A maid would go through her clothes, her room, and
perhaps find them.

“
I wish no maid to witness
my humiliation at your hands.” She glared, trying to suppress the
fear struggling for control.

He smiled. “I will wait until our wedding
night.”

Horror spiraled in her. She quickly turned
away. Surely her brother would rescue her in time. Elwytha
swallowed, and finally part of her warrior mind clicked into action
again. Vulnerable though her position was, his was equally
vulnerable. Only one door separated her room from his. Perfect for
her opportunity to kill him, when the time came. First, though, and
quickly, she would retrieve her knives. This faint bit of hope
lightened her spirits, and with a lifted chin, she turned back to
her enemy.

“
How much does your word
mean to one such as yourself?” she challenged.

The Commander stared at her with his
mutilated, squinting face. Her brother was right. He was as ugly as
sin. “The Prince trusts me implicitly. You may, as well.”

“
Trust is earned,” she told
him. As if she would ever trust a murdering knave who dishonorably
stabbed men in the back! “We will see if I can trust your word. In
the meantime,” she straightened her shoulders, affecting a brave
pose, “I wish for my trunks and my clothes to be delivered
here.”

“
No,” he said calmly, arms
crossed.

Her temper sparked at his unreasonable
response. The Prince himself had promised that she could have her
belongings. “I insist.”

“
You wish?” The monster
didn’t sound
amused
, did he?

Her temper threatened to boil. “I will not
beg, if that is what you want. I need my clothes. Give them to
me!”

He continued to watch her, arms crossed, as
though she were some unusual form of entertainment.

She heaved a breath.
Clearly, demands would get her nowhere. “Yes, I wish.” She forced
out the next galling words. “
Please
give them to me.” If only she had a blade, she
would end her torture now!

“
Very well. You will receive
your clothes.”

“
And my trunks.”

“
No,” he said
implacably.

Elwytha clenched her fists. She had secreted
blades in her trunks, and other weapons, too. “Please.” She bit out
the humiliating word.

“
No.”

She heaved a great breath and stared at him,
struggling to find a way to win the advantage over this man.

* * * * *

The Commander looked at Elwytha with her dark
hair and flashing, brilliant blue eyes. A beauty. This fact stabbed
into his calloused soul. And she clearly found him abhorrent. That
was plain, and held no surprise for him. He knew the thick muscles
which served him so well in battle could look repulsive to a
fine-boned creature such as herself. Although she was not short,
which pleased him.