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bantering, but Elienne saw threat in the contact. She shoved the table rim
hard into the man's groin. Glassware pitched over the brink and struck,
decking the parquet with a sparkling spray of costly fragments.
The man gasped. But instead of losing his hold, his fingers tightened cruelly
and he yanked Elienne to him.
'Lady.' The word came half-strangled from his throat.
For a long moment he wrestled for breath. 'That was an affront. A man in
Pendaire can face execution for striking a Prince.'
Elienne went lax in the imposter's arms, and smiled, clothing the murder she
felt inside with tenderness. 'But I
am no man,' she said softly.
He chuckled. 'Bless Ma'Diere, you certainly aren't.'
Entirely without courtesy, he brushed the hair away from her face, leaned
down, and kissed her mouth.
E!ienne permitted him. She could do nothing effective with her arm pinned, and
resistance would not entice the man to drop his guard. Though the touch of the
man's lips revolted her, she feigned response, grateful she was not the
inexperienced virgin she had been made to appear. Fatigue and excessive
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responsibility had made
Cinndel difficult to please in the last months before his death; this man's
wants were simpler, E!ienne sensed, and when he raised his head at last, his
face was flushed, and a light sweat shone on his brow.
'^h, Missy, that was more polite.' But his grip on
E!ienne did not loosen, and his intention was evident. He wished to bed her
ahead of the Prince. If he succeeded, her Consortship would be suspended until
it could be proved she had sustained no pregnancy. There would be no way to
avoid having Cinndel's child ascribed to this stranger's paternity. Should
that happen, Elienne realized
Darion's chance, and her own, would be irrevocably lost.
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5
The Hand of the Healer
The man easily lifted Elienne off her feet. 'You're a small thing,' he said,
and stepped over the fallen glass toward the bedroom door.
E!ienne leaned against his shoulder and teased his ear with her tongue. The
taste was bitter, but she maintained her ruse. 'Be easy with me, my Lord,' she
whispered. 'I
beg you.'
The man squeezed her, studying her face in the fire-
light. 'A moment ago you were willing enough to play rough.'
Elienne lowered her eyes. 'Your pardon, Lord. My sister once said men prefer
women who show a little spirit.'
'And did your sister teach you that kiss?' he mocked lightly.
Elienne flushed. Hoping her squirm would he mistaken for embarrassment, she
buried her face in the loose satin that clothed the man's arm, and strained to
loosen her wrist from his hold. Once her hand was free to reach the knife in
her sleeve, there would be no need to endure further.
The impostor's smile returned. Reddened by firelight, his expression this time
displayed wolfish eagerness.
Chilled even through the warmth of the man's embrace, Elienne said, 'Please,
you're hurting me.'
'All right, Missy.' The man became serious. 'My Coun-
cil members tell me that you were gently born. We'll make that gently bred as
well.' He laughed quietly to
8O
himself, as though wanting to taunt Elienne into further rebellion. Although
the jest made Elienne's pulse leap in her veins, she controlled her instinct
to resist.
The man laid her on the wide bed in the darkness. The fingers that circled her
wrist tightened cruelly as he brushed her forehead with his lips. But
passivity could not conceal the heavy, racing pound of her own heart, loud in
her ears over the distant rush of surf. The man seemed not to notice. 'Shall
we have light for our first time?' he said in her ear.
Elienne masked raging annoyance with complaisance.
'If my Lord wishes.' The maneuver with the table had evidently warned the man
off. He wanted light so he could keep an eye on her. Her only chance was to
bait him until desire made him careless.
Elienne kissed the fingers that rose to caress her face.
They tickled across her jawline and came to rest, heavy with implied threat,
across the bared column of her throat. After a suggestive squeeze, the man
released her wrist and fumbled after a striker for the unlit candlestick on
the bedside table. The spark flared, gleamed whitely against a puckered scar
crossing swarthy knuckles.
Fear numbed Elienne's resolve. That same hand had drugged Darion. She reached
to draw the knife then, despite the hold on her neck, but the man leaned
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suddenly over her, compelling her to wait. Her tenseness this time did not
escape notice.
'Frightened, Missy?' he said softly.
Elienne swallowed and tried for a smile of seductive invitation. 'Of what
would I be frightened, my Lord?'
The meek tone she intended came out sounding cowed, yet she had no other
alternative. If she fought him openly, his size and weight would quickly
overpower her.
Elienne threaded her arm beneath the impostor's elbow
81
and drew him into an embrace. His skin smelled sourly of ash soap and herbs.
The odor repulsed her. But without use of her other hand she could not draw
the knife, which waited cold and heavy in her sleeve. The man pressed against
her and covered her lips with his mouth.
Elienne endured, and while he was occupied, explored the fine cloth of his
tabard with spread fingers. What lay beneath roused a stab of warning. The man
was muscled like a bull. He stretched out alongside and wound one arm under
her shoulders. Elienne felt her wrist pinned helplessly beneath his weight.
She tried in vain to shift position. The man kissed her again, demandingly.
His free hand roved from her throat, across her breast, and downward.
Overwhelmingly conscious her move must be made qu;.ckly, Elienne leaned into
his embrace with a show of sudden passion. The man sought the fastening of her
bodice. She rolled and managed to block him.
Undetered, he pulled clear and ran his palm, hard, down her leg. Though she
had not planned to kick, he must have thought she might try. His booted foot
ground her ankle into the coverlet. Elienne started in pain. Her show of
acquiescence had not convinced him. She felt the
!imp silk of her chemise slide inexorably upward. Cold air raised gooseflesh
on her exposed thighs.
With lips and tongue, she strove to delay him. But panic caused her to shape
her response too thoroughly.
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