The High Sheriff of Huntingdon (21 page)

“You there,”
he said contemptuously,
nodding
at Hel
va.
“Make yourself
scarce.”

It
was only
slightly gratifying to see the sour-tempered
Helva
scurry
to
do her master’s bidding. Elspeth held herself very
still, leaning against the
stone
casement,
considering
whether
s
he had
any reason
to
be frightened.
The answer,
unwelcome
as
it
was, was
definitely yes.

“I’ll wait
outside,”
Helva murmured
deferentially.

“You’ll
get
your fat,
useless carcass
downstairs
and out
of
the
tower,” the sheriff
of Huntingdon said in his cool,
silvery voice. “I don’t wish
to be interrupted.”
And
he
started toward
Elspeth, casually unfa
s
tening his doublet.

She
was determined
not to flinch,
though she
was
suddenly
very
cold. This was
her husband. It
was
her
duty
and God’s
will
that
she submit
to
him. Despite the
disturbing
power of his
kiss, she had
a
hard
time remember
ing
that.
“I wouldn’t
think
anyone
would
dare
interrupt
you
,”
she
said
in
an admirably calm voice.

He
didn’t
even
bother to check
to
make sure
that Helva had left. “People
are surprisingly foolhardy,” he
said,
watching her
with his strange golden eyes. He
glanced around
him. “Is there any
wine
in
this
place?”

She
shook
her
head. “I’
ve
been kept
on a
ration of
cold gruel and brackish
water
since I’ve been
here.”

“And you
haven’t liked
that one bit,
have you?”
he murmured
,
stripping
off the
heavy
velvet tunic. He
was wearing a
loose black
shirt beneath,
and black hose, and his long black hair
was
a m
ane around
his face.
“You
m
ust
been u
s
ed
to
more luxurious treatment in the convent.”

“The accommodations
were
a slight improvement.”

“I’ll
see
to
it
that you’re better fed,” he said, not movi
ng any
closer. “You’re
far
too thin
for my taste.
I prefer my
women with curves.”

Elspeth
thought
back to
the
various
women i
n their
states of
undress, clinging
to
h
i
s
arm.
“So I’ve ob
served,” she said dryly. “Why don’t you
come
back in
a
few
weeks
and see
i
f
I
measure
up to your
standards
then?”

The
silence in
the room
was ice
c
o
l
d
,
and
Elspeth
wou
l
d
have given
a
n
yt
h
i
n
g
to call back
h
e
r
mocking
words.
She’d
always
been a
bit
too free with
her
tongue, speaking her mind
when
she should have
been
meekly, dutifully silent,
but
now was
the worst time
of
all
to be flippant. A
lone in
a
tower room with
a
purported
madman
who had
total
power
over
her
body and
h
e
r
life, she
ought
to
be
quiet,
subservient, and totally docile.

“Your
mistake,
my lady
wife,” he
said
in
a
soft, menacing
voice.
“There’s only
one thing
I
despise
above
all others in
this
world, and
t
h
a
t
is
being
bored. You’ve
just made the
fatal
e
rr
o
r
of
piquing
my
interest.”

“Fatal.”
Her voice
shook
as
she
echoed
that
word.

His smile was
scarcely reassuring,
“So
you’ve
heard the
rumors about
me? That I’m the
son of the
devil,
that I eat little children,
that
I
murder anyone
who displeases
me.”

“Actually
I
hadn’t
heard
the
one
about the
children.”
She slapped
a
r
es
trai
n
i
n
g
hand across
her
mouth,
hor
rified
at
her
own
indiscretion.

His eyes
gleamed
in
the
evening light.
“I might sug
gest
that you shouldn’t
be
l
i
e
v
e
everything
you
hear,” he
said.
“But
I
think
I
prefer
you
quivering
in
terror
at the
thought
of
my unregenerate
evil. However,
you
don’t appear
to be quivering yet.
I
suppose
I
ought t
o
do
something
about that.” He started
toward her.

There
was no
place
to
run.
The thick
stone
wall
of the castle
was
hard
at
her back,
and
not
even
to
escape
a
madman
would she
throw
h
e
r
s
e
l
f
from
t
h
e
battlement.
She
never
had much
use for
melodramatic
gestures,
and
life
was
far
too
interesting to
be
dispensed with so
l
ightly. She pressed
a
ga
in
s
t
the
wall,
feeling
like
a cornered doe
as
the
ravening
wolf
advanced on her.