Lady Of The Lake
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“Tell the princess your purpose for being here, Bishop Nels,” Edon prompted.
“Simply put, my lord Wolf, I am charged with the duty of seeing that all persons residing in Warwickshire are baptized Christians…with a sword at their throat if necessary.”
“You may have noticed, Tala ap Griffin, that I came with soldiers enough to see that joint edict of King Guthrum and King Alfred fulfilled within the month granted us to accomplish it. My general, Rig, has already accepted the teachings of the Christ and proudly wears the cross King Guthrum has given him.”
Tala looked from the soldiers to the dangerous man seated beside her. Edon of Warwick continued speaking horrifying words.
“Once the conversions are done, I am to staunch the wounds that cut so bitterly between neighbors on the same land. As palatine of this shire, I will hold a monthly eyre to judge and settle grievances. The morning after the new moon rises, you may bring to me your petitions, which have harried two kings. I shall deal with each charge as it is proved.”
“What?” Tala gasped. “You could not possibly sit in fair judgment over my people. You jest, Viking!”
“Nay, I do not,” Edon growled, not liking her reaction one bit. She glared at him as though he was something vile and unspeakable, not a polished, educated man of the world. “Make use of your days of grace as you will, Princess. Once you find yourself charged with treason before this Viking, there will be no more skulking in trees, spying upon the unwary and conducting mischief with the waters that fuel this land.”
“What now?” Tala demanded scornfully. “Do you accuse me of witholding the rain and drying up the rivers?”
“Not I, Princess.” Edon held back a laugh at her preposterous words. Her humor was not the issue. “It is time you learned you are not the only person capable of delivering ultimatums to kings. As you have harried Alfred, Guthrum’s niece has pleaded with him for redress.”
“So?” Tala replied hotly.
Edon smiled wickedly, taking a small taste of satisfaction in her discomfort over that news. She was truly naive, a mere innocent in the ways of wielding power. He leaned deliberately closer to her, inhaling her sweet fragrance as he allowed his fingertips to stroke soothingly across the satiny skin of her bare arm.
“Nor did you deny being a witch when the question was put to you at the beginning of this meal,” he said huskily. “So tell me, Tala ap Griffin. How does that slipper fit now?”
Tala’s answer came as a resounding slap on the jarl’s face. Refusing to stay and be insulted further, she bolted from his table.
Halfway to the bottom of the steps, Edon caught up with her, jerked her off her feet and flung her over his shoulder.
“You bastard, put me down! How dare you touch me! Selwyn! Stafford! I need you!” Tala screamed. She pounded her fists into the jarl’s massive back, aiming for the soft flesh at his kidneys.
“Bar the gates!” Edon commanded the astonished soldiers standing in the keep’s lower chamber. “Arrest any man who draws a weapon in her defense. Detain him for questioning.”
Without further words, Edon spun around and marched back up the stairs and through the hall, bearing the screaming, struggling woman on his shoulder. She was not easy to contain, fighting him with all her might. What she lacked in muscle and weight she made up for in sheer determination.
The moment Edon entered his chamber and dropped her on his box bed, he caught hold of her hands and flattened her to the feather mattress. In spite of the great difference between their weights, she continued to whip about, as slippery as eels in a bowl of oil, twisting and bucking beneath him, screaming her throat raw, piercing his eardrums with her shrieks.
Her terror increased tenfold as her struggles caused her simple gown to tear from the brooches at her shoulders.
Still angered by her effrontery, by the insult she’d delivered him in slapping him publicly, Edon let her wear herself out. His grip upon her hands remained firm, keeping her spread beneath him.
Sarina bounded into the chamber and jumped on the bed. The wolfhound stuck her wet nose in the howling princess’s face, whining and wiggling, distressed by the woman’s ear-piercing shrieks.
“You are only making it worse for yourself,” Edon said at last. He felt no sympathy whatsoever for the headstrong woman. Did she think he had no pride? Had she not given a single thought to the fact that he, too, was an atheling, the son of a king? Striking him in the face was an unforgivable insult. “Get down, Sarina!”
The wolfhound whined and nuzzled his cheek. Then, concluding that Edon would not play, she bounded off the bed and sat, thumping her tail on the floor.
Tala commanded, “Release me at once, Viking!”
“Lady,” Edon warned her, his patience dwindling fast, “speak to me again in that tone of voice and I will have no choice but to teach you to respect the man you see before you.”
“Strike me and I will kill you with my bare hands, Viking!” Tala gulped, struggling for her breath.
“And how will you do that, hmm?” Edon taunted. “With what weapon will you slay me, woman? Your viper’s tongue? These hands that you cannot remove from my grip?”
Edon nodded to her bared breasts, exposed in the beam of moonlight that spilled into the chamber from the open window. “The only success you have had thus far is in baring your bosom. Continue the show. I shall enjoy seeing what other charms your struggles reveal.”
“Barbarian!” Tala screamed. “You tricked me. I will not be mocked.”