“Oh, yes, by all means, let us begin again.” His sarcasm was rewarded by the arching of her eyebrows. Certain he had her attention, he continued, “Let me go first this time, shall I?”
It took a few moments, but Marguerite nodded her consent.
“To make this transfer of power easier for all concerned, give me the names of the smugglers operating on your beach.”
Marguerite’s already pale complexion lightened further. She looked from him to Sir Osbert and then to the door before saying, “I know not of what you speak. What smugglers?” Finally, she brought her wavering attention back to him. “If you know of any such criminals in the area it is your duty to bring them to justice.”
She had always been a terrible liar. He was grateful that much had not changed. At one time his touch had driven her to distraction, making her say and do things she’d otherwise not.
Would that have changed?
Darius smiled before leaning his arms on the table and taking her hands between his. “Oh, my lady, fear not. I intend to bring them to justice.”
He lifted one of her beringed hands and studied it intently, tracing the blue spiderweb of veins on the back of her hand with a fingertip. Her skin was soft beneath his touch.
He turned her hand over and lazily traced the lines on her palm. A tremor coursed up her arm. When she tried to pull free, he tightened his hold, keeping her firmly in his grasp.
“My lord, what are you—”
He cut off her question by placing a kiss on the palm of her hand. “In the East, there are palm readers who would tell you that your life line is broken.”
When she knitted her brows in confusion, he explained by tracing the jagged line. “Here, see how it stops and starts again?”
She leaned forward to peer at her palm. “Yes.”
“’Tis broken.” He traced the line again, ever so lightly. Darius bit the inside of his mouth to hold back his smile at her shiver. He still had the power to shake her reserve. That could only work in his favor.
Marguerite inhaled sharply before asking, “What does that mean?”
Darius raised her hand and brought it to his mouth. Before she could react, he trailed the tip of his tongue along the line on her palm. At her gasp, he brushed her hand across his cheek, leaning into the forced caress.
He kept his gaze locked on her face. “What it means is that you have had more than one husband.” When just the lightest shade of pink colored her face, he added, “At the same time.”
Marguerite tried unsuccessfully to jerk her hand from his hold. “How dare you.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, I dare much and will dare much more before you and I are through.”
This time when she tried to free her hand, he let her go. Without another word, she rose and headed toward the steps.
She thought it would be that easy? That she could just walk away and be done with him? Not this time. Darius remained seated, but called out, “If you walk away before you are excused, I will find the smugglers myself and they will be executed in your bailey.”
She halted and turned around to face him. “Who are you to excuse me in my own keep? Who are you to decide the life and death of Thornson’s men?”
Darius rose. “Who am I?” He picked up the missive from the king. “In case you have forgotten, I am your lord and master for now. I alone have the power to decide life and death over those at Thornson.”
Marguerite returned to the table and stood across from him. “What has become of you, Darius?”
He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “My dear wife, I am everything you ever dreamed of, everything you ever desired.” He tossed her own words, spoken long ago, in her face. Then he added his own. “I am every nightmare that ever pulled you from your sleep.”
“I am not your wife.” She straightened her spine, lifted her chin and stared back at him. “I will beg you to remember that. I will do as you order, Faucon, but no more.”
We will see about that. He kept his thoughts to himself, nodded and said, “Good. Then I order you to take yourself to your chamber and remain there until I say otherwise.”
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing before leaving the hall.
Darius’s heart beat so hard he thought it would burst. He lunged back down into the chair and rubbed the throbbing in his temples.
Sir Osbert had remained silent through the conversation with Marguerite, but now he cleared his throat and asked, “My lord, if I might speak out of turn?”
Surprised, Darius peered up at him. “If you have to ask, this should be interesting. Please, feel free.”
“Do you not think that was a little rough?”
“Perhaps. Should I have sweetened every word so she felt at ease? That way, she would have thought herself free to continue on her merry way as if nothing were amiss.”
“’Tis not what I meant and you know that well.”
“Then what do you suggest, Osbert?” Darius lowered his hands and sighed. “She made fools of us at the wall. She called a truce and then kept us waiting for God only knows what reason. She pretended not to know me, then lied to my face.”
“You do not think she does that to protect herself?”
“She does that to protect not only herself, but the secrets she’s hiding.”
“Lord Darius?”
He shook his head. “Osbert, there is much more going on here at Thornson than even what the king was aware of, and I intend to ferret out all I can. To do that, I need her to know she cannot trust me. To realize that she cannot use what was once between us to her benefit.”
“I see your point.” Osbert scratched his head. “I am just not certain this is the best way around the problem.”
“And you suggest?”
His captain shrugged. “I suggest I follow your lead and see where we end up.”
“Good.” Darius rose, picked up his helmet and gloves, then headed toward the iron-studded door. “For now, let us take stock of this keep.”
He needed to know how many men currently served at Thornson. It would also be to his benefit to discover the type and number of arms available.
Since the keep itself was more than what it was supposed to be, there was no telling what other details had not been reported to King Stephen. Darius would sleep better knowing what he faced.
Chapter Three
Once she heard the great oak door thud closed, Marguerite cracked her chamber door open wider. Had Faucon left the hall? She crept out onto the landing and peered down into the Great Hall.
Her shoulders sagged with relief at finding it empty. Stay in her chamber, indeed. How did he think she was going to oversee Thornson if she was confined to her room like a wayward child?
There were many tasks requiring her attention. Tasks that no one else could complete.
Marguerite sighed. She gritted her teeth and squinted her eyes. She would allow no further complications in her life.
“My lady?”
Marguerite jumped. She’d not heard Sir Everett’s approach. She forced herself to ignore her musings and looked at her captain. “Yes?”
He made an exaggerated