The commanders desire, p.15
The Commander's Desire, page 15
He regarded her patiently.
“Fine.” She spun on her heel and retrieved it. If this was the only way she could escape his presence, then the quicker he read it the better. It certainly wasn’t a private missive anymore, not after the Prince’s spying eyes had besmirched it.
Elwytha flipped it at him with her fingertips. “Take it. Read it. I await your lies.” She waited, arms crossed, while he did so. Again, she wondered how a man such as himself…to all appearances, little more than a serf…could read.
He finished. Grim lines tightened his mouth. “Write to your brother this morn. I would know the identity of my accuser.”
“Nay.” Never mind that that had been her plan, as well. “You would ride on the witness and kill him. What would that prove? Except your guilt!”
He heaved a breath, and with pleasure she saw his fist clench. She’d cut him to the quick of his lying, corrupt soul. Elwytha pressed her advantage. “Nay. Your sword in Thor’s back, and a witness... The evidence against you grows higher than a mountain. Why won’t you admit the truth at last?”
“I did not kill your brother.”
“Words, Commander. Proof evades you.”
“I would have the truth,” he growled, stepping toward her. She stiffened her spine, but did not back up. “I’ll speak to my accuser, face to face. And you will come with me.”
Elwytha’s mouth opened in surprise. “You would have me witness your atrocities? If I come, I will defend my countryman to the death.”
The steel gray eyes cut into her. He’d reached the end of his patience. “Write your brother,” he ordered quietly. “Now.”
Mutiny flared. “I will not deliver my countryman to death. I will be party to no treachery.”
“I would speak to him, Elwytha.” His deep voice cracked like a whip.
She curled her lip with deliberate disbelief. “You would not kill him? Tell me the truth!”
He heaved another great breath. “How little you think of me. I will not kill him, unless he pulls a blade on me first.”
“And I should take your word? A murderer and a liar?” she taunted.
“Words. But no proof,” he flipped her words back.
In a glance she took in the tension radiating from his stiff shoulders, and the cold steel of his eyes. No warmth, no gentleness lurked in them today. And that was just as she wished it. His gentleness was her undoing, and she could not allow that. She must remain strong. In truth, it angered and sickened her to the very marrow that that the new—nay, all evidence—pointed to him being the despicable, murdering brute she had believed from the beginning.
“Would you put pen to paper for me?” she inquired. “How will you force me to bend to your will this time?” Even more hurtful words flew to mind, and she spat them out, “Pray, what atrocities will your brutish side flay upon me? Tell me. I wish to know the fullest reaches of your depravity!”
“Elwytha!” Temper erupted and he gripped her wrists, pulling her to him. Fury burned in the steel eyes. “Do not speak to me in such a manner.”
Alarm billowed. She had pushed him too far. Still, she dared spit, “You would have me respect you? Obey all your wishes and commands? Nay. I am a woman, not a dog. Don’t treat me as such.”
He stared down at her. “Elwytha,” he said in a deep growl. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he sounded pained. To her surprise, he released her wrists. “What will it take for you to trust me?”
An unexpected lump formed in her throat. “I need proof, Commander. Proof you do not have.”
“Allow me to face my accuser. It is the only way I can clear my name.” A reasoning plea, now. Not a demand.
She searched his eyes. Frustration still lurked there, and anger…but controlled again, tempered by his unending patience.
He was not a rash man, like her brother had accused. A rash man would not still be speaking reasonably to her. What’s more, he was far too controlled to kill someone in a rage.
More reluctant truths drifted in. The Commander had never harmed her. In fact, he had always treated her honorably. Wasn’t this the least she could do…to give him a chance to prove his innocence?
“Very well,” she said at last. “I will ask my brother who he is. And I’ll go with you when you question him.”
A bit of tension relaxed out of his huge body. “Thank you.”
“I will write it now. Have you a parchment and ink?”
The Commander pulled the necessary items from a drawer. Elwytha gathered them up. “I would write in peace,” she said, and shut herself in her room.
Elwytha placed the parchment on her dresser and dipped the quill in ink. What should she say? How could she hint that she wouldn’t battle and kill the Commander unless the witness provided infallible proof? Even then, could she? Would she?
Her quill hovered over the paper, and a great black drop sullied the center.
She would reveal nothing yet. First, the witness would show his hand. Then she would know for sure which actions she would take. As well, she needed to convey to Richard the Prince’s warning. Elwytha dipped up more ink and wrote,
I received your letter, brother. I will fulfill my commitment to peace. The Prince says he desires peace as well. Beware. He suspects treachery from us both.
You speak of a witness to the Commander’s cowardly act. Who is this witness? I wish to know his name. I await your answer.
I also await your arrival on my wedding morn…on the Monday you mentioned. Your loving sister, Elwytha
* * * * *
The Commander paced his chamber, waiting for Elwytha to pen her missive. The anger and disappointment in her eyes had sickened him. And the disgust. He had thought they’d begun to make progress and to grow closer together, but the letter from her brother had destroyed it all.
He balled his fists. The odds against him seemed to grow. Elwytha believed he had killed Thor. Not to mention their palaces were at enmity, and had been all their lives. He was her enemy no matter who had killed Thor.
The Commander paced, frustration churning. He didn’t see Elwytha as an enemy. He liked her; truly, more every day. He longed for her, and wished she would feel the same for him. But she felt disgust, instead. He had seen it when she’d glared at him this morning. Clearly, she still found him revolting. An ugly monster.
A low sound gurgled in his chest, and he shoved his hands through his hair…longer now, about a half inch. He’d need to shave it soon. A small part of his brain acknowledged this, while the larger part felt helpless impotence. What could he do to gain Elwytha’s heart? Was it possible?
In the chapel, he had begun to hope. She had kissed him back, hadn’t she? Or had it been only wishful thinking on his part?
The Commander heaved great breaths. He needed to fight. Only aggressive swordplay could release the hopeless frustration raging through him.
First, though, he would await Elwytha’s missive…and he hoped she’d write plainly enough, with no hidden messages to her brother. He couldn’t handle another fight with her. From the depths of his soul, he longed for peace between them, but how to accomplish it?
The door opened and he deliberately relaxed his body posture. Elwytha exited, but her cold eyes froze his heart.
Anger arose then. Finally, the warrior surfaced and determination steeled his heart. Enough of the defeated thoughts. He would clear his name. He would fight to win, because the battle was far from over. He would try yet again…and again…to make this thing work between them.
* * * * *
Elwytha extended the rolled scroll to her betrothed with narrowed eyes. “You will wish to read it? And the Prince, too, of course.”
The Commander unrolled it and scanned it quickly. “It will suffice,” he granted, rolling it up again.
“I’m so glad to please you. Pray, may I leave anon?”
He gazed at her for a long moment, as if trying to decide his answer.
She glared. “Or must I remain at your beck and call?”
“Elwytha.” He moved closer, but she refused to back up. She held her ground, staring at him coldly. To her dismay, he closed the distance. Only a spare foot separated his massive body from hers.
“Pray, what do you wish now?” she demanded, heart pounding fast.
To her alarm, his warm hands closed around hers. His eyes held hers. “Peace, ceisdein,” he said. A demand, and a request. “I would have peace between us.”
Elwytha’s breaths came quicker at his close presence…at his touch. The memory of their kiss in the chapel seared her mind. What was wrong with her? He had killed Thor! Two proofs secured this fact. Then why did she feel doubt? With difficulty, she forced out, “I feel only war in my heart.”
“Do you? ...Because you think I killed your brother. I did not,” he growled harshly, between his teeth.
“You have yet to prove it.” She tugged free. Why did part of her want to believe him? How could she believe a heathen, enemy warrior? She could not!
“I will prove my honor, Elwytha.”
“Until then, I do not wish to partake of your presence.”
“Nay. Seven days remain until our marriage. I will spend them with you.”
Dismayed, Elwytha’s lips trembled. “Why won’t you leave me be?” she cried out. “I’ve promised to marry you. What more do you want?”
“I want you, Elwytha. All of you.” The fearsome face stared down at her, tempered only by the intelligence in his eyes.
Her heart thumped suffocatingly hard in her chest. He wanted her heart and soul, too—not just her body. She felt further dismay…and fear, that he might gain it. “You will not have me, Commander.” Verily, he would have no part of her. She would not marry him. She would leave seven days hence and never see him again. “I would go outdoors anon.”
He watched her for another moment, and then nodded. “I will ask your brother to send a reply with my horseman.”
Elwytha took her leave. Soon they would know the identity of the witness. Soon she would know the Commander’s guilt or innocence.
But for now she would seek escape routes to flee her wedding. If she knew the Commander at all, escape would not be easy. As well, he might pursue her after she left the castle walls. She shivered at the thought—truthfully, at the thought she might want him to catch her.
Horrified, her slippered feet flew down the halls. Nay. Soon she would know the truth of the Commander’s heinous crime. Then these ridiculous thoughts and feelings would die an equally brutal, vicious death. She prayed for the truth to come soon. Before it was too late.
* * * * *
Elwytha spent the morning scouring the castle grounds. Of course, she pretended to walk casually, as if taking the air. But her sharp eyes scanned ever bulwark, every tower. She climbed the highest reaches of the castle and eyed the moat surrounding it. Not deep, she determined. If worse came to worst she could swim to safety. Not her first choice, to be sure.
One thing became clear as she headed to the kitchen for lunch. To escape, the drawbridge had to be lowered.
Carefully, she thought through her plan, chewing on the crusty bread Mary provided. Richard would sound his horn, indicating she was to kill the Commander. That thought shivered revulsion and horror through her. Even if she found proof of his guilt, could she battle and kill him? She feared not.
In any case, Richard would blow his horn, and the Prince would order the drawbridge lowered so her brother could enter the castle grounds. Instead, she would have Sir Duke saddled and ready, and she’d gallop to freedom, shouting for her brother to follow.
Elwytha smiled. Yes, it was a good plan. However, saddling Sir Duke and arriving at the drawbridge at the same time that her brother arrived might prove difficult. No, instead, she might need to leave her beloved horse behind, dash across the bridge and leap upon Richard’s steed. Then they’d flee to safety.
Elwytha sopped up the last of the soup. Either way, she would escape the Commander and her wedding. Wasn’t that her goal? To be freed of him forever? He wreaked too much disturbance in her soul. Once she fled his presence, finally she’d be able to think clearly again.
“You’re awful quiet of a day, miss,” Mary said, chopping vegetables at the huge table.
Elwytha started. “I’m sorry, Mary. I was…thinking.”
“About your wedding, no doubt.” The older woman smiled, with a twinkle in her eyes. “That I can understand right enough.”
A blush warmed Elwytha’s cheeks. “Are you sure you don’t need help with the feast? I still need to talk to Hagma about the decorations. I’m thinking we should gather up the leaves and flowers the day before? What do you think?”
“Yes.” The cook nodded comfortably. “Friday would be a good day.”
Elwytha frowned. “Friday? But the wedding is on Monday.”
Mary blinked. “But the Commander spoke with me this very morning. Saturday, he said.”
Saturday? Instant fury fulminated in Elwytha. She sprang to her feet. “I’m sure it’s only a misunderstanding. I’ll speak to him anon.”
“Let me know, lass. I’ll need a few days to prepare.”
“I’ll tell you this afternoon,” Elwytha promised. “Don’t worry.”
Seething, she exited. Her betrothed should certainly worry. She’d blister his ears with rage. How dare he change the wedding day? He’d agreed to Monday. She’d told Richard Monday. What was he thinking? Did he suspect her plans to bolt? Did he intend to plot in advance to thwart all her moves?
Elwytha had worked up quite a steam of rage when a helmeted guard unexpectedly stepped before her. “The Prince would speak to you.”
Elwytha glared, hands on her hips, at the gray mustached man. Could this be Mary’s husband Henry, she wondered in a flash. But never mind. “I must speak to the Commander,” she denied. “Tell his royalness I will attend him later.” She tried to move around him.
The older man blocked her way, lance out. “I’m sorry, miss, but his highness said now.”
Of course he had. Further fury gathered in her bosom. She heaved great breaths, trying to get a grip on her temper. What could that vile, game playing Prince want now? “Lead on,” she said through gritted teeth, and stamped after him to the throne room.
The man led her in, then bowed deeply before the Prince, who for once sat upright on his padded throne. “Your highness…Princess Elwytha.” The guard backed away, and Elwytha stepped forward. She made no move to curtsey.
“You summoned me, your imperial highness?” She didn’t bother to hide her anger or scorn.
“No curtseys today, Princess?” The Prince regarded her from on high, for she made no move to ascend the royal steps.
“You wish no deceit. I would give you no false adulation.”
“You tread dangerous ground, Princess.”
“Are you more royal than I? Nay. A curtsey is a gesture of respect. You have lost all of mine.”
He relaxed a little, crossing his legs. “Because of my threat to hang your head upon my flagpole?”
Elwytha glared, not speaking.
“Your Commander took me to task for that thoughtless remark.”
Elwytha felt a start of surprise. “He did?”
“Would it help if I apologized?”
She felt further surprise. “You would apologize to me?”
“I wish peace. Commit no treachery within my palace, Elwytha, and all will be well between us.”
This didn’t sound like an apology to Elwytha. She bowed her head in an equally disingenuous manner. “Your warning is heeded. However, your humble apology evades me.”
He smiled then, obviously pleased with himself. “You need not fear me, Princess. I leave you in the Commander’s capable hands. Should you commit treachery, he will mete out your punishment.”
Further nerves fluttered through Elwytha at this thought. The Commander had a reputation of brutal efficiency on the battlefield. All of his enemies usually fell by one vicious thrust of his sword. He could end her life just as quickly.
Faintly, she said, “I intend no treachery.” Except to abandon her nuptials and the peace agreement. Neither a crime worthy of the sword.
“Good,” the Prince said. “Then you are ready to attend your nuptials on Saturday.”
“Monday,” Elwytha frowned.
“No.” The Prince inspected a fingernail. “I convinced the Commander that Saturday would be a far better day.”
Temper bubbled. So the change was the Prince’s doing. “Why would you lower yourself to interfere in my wedding?”
He gave a small, thin lipped smile. “Does Saturday displease you…or does it displease Richard?”
“I would have my brother attend my nuptials, Prince. How dare you deny me this right?”
“Richard may attend. But he will be notified Friday even. If he truly desires to attend his beloved sister’s wedding, he will arrive on time.”
Elwytha heaved an infuriated breath. “I am not ready to wed the Commander so soon. I have much to do. I…”
“Nay, Princess.” He flicked dirt from beneath his fingernail. “Don’t try to fool me. All is planned. Mayhap you wish the wedding anon, instead?”
Elwytha clenched her fists, feeling a helpless fury. How she longed to smack the Prince’s implacable, mocking face.
“Then we are agreed,” he said. “Saturday it is.”
Elwytha’s lips felt numb, for she clenched them so tightly together. “If you have nothing further to say, I would take my leave,” she ground out. In fact, immediately she would pen a new letter to Richard, warning him of the change. Somehow, she’d find a way to deliver it to him.
“You do not appear eager for your nuptials, Princess. Perhaps not for peace, either?”
How could she reply to this question? Elwytha wished only to escape marrying the Commander. But by fleeing, she’d break the fragile peace. “I do wish for peace,” she countered. “But the price is high.”
“Has the Commander told you his name?” The Prince relaxed back, eyes sharp, watching her reaction to this bewildering subject change.
