Free Bondslave (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards #1 ) by Georgia Fox Page B

reinforcements."
    Raul was adjusting the bridle. He paused, thoughtful, looking at his fingers.
    "Well, take care of yourself, brother," said Sal walking back around the horse to where Raul stood. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do."
     
    * * * *
     
    Stumbling to a halt behind the stable door, she'd heard it all. The words fell upon her like sharp, cruel, well-aimed arrowheads.
    Her heart almost ceased to beat.
    So he knew who she was. All this time he'd known and planned to take her back to the Comte for a reward. Sickened, she leaned against the stable wall, needing it to hold her upright. What a fool she'd been. What a naive, pathetic, pitiful girl.
    She should have known better. How many times had she reminded herself of what he was? A Norman and a d'Anzeray. Had there ever been a worse combination?
    To him she was just another whore, like many he and his brothers used.
    This is simply how things were, as he liked to say.
    Princesa, indeed. No wonder he smiled when he said it.
     
    * * * *
     
    "My brothers wore you out it seems," he said to her, realizing she had not spoken for several miles.
    "Yes. That must be it," came the response.
    They rode on, and she returned to her silence. It was unusual for her, and he'd grown accustomed to her chatter over the past three days of their travel together. Her companionship had taken him by surprise in fact, for he'd never known a woman to hold his interest in ways other than the fucking. Raul wanted to know more about her and that too was vastly unusual for him. Last night, while she slept, he'd gone prying through her bundle of "belongings" and found it contained nothing but more rags. Yet she clung to it and kept it with her as if it were treasure.
    A sadness stole its way sneakily through his heart when he examined that empty bundle and thought of how she clutched it to her bosom. Perhaps it was not merely rags. Not if she wanted to believe there was something there. She took comfort from it, obviously.
    It might be invisible to Raul, but that bundle held her hope, her dreams even. It held her pride.
    So he did not let her know he'd looked.
    Today, however, she was too quiet.
    He began to suspect she might be plotting.
    Did she suspect that he knew her identity?
    Canterbury would be upon them soon and so would the greatest decision of his life.
    Damn her! He needed a rich bride with a dowry and a father who had property at his disposal. And no d'Anzeray ever changed his plans for a woman.
    Their father would be disgusted at this wavering, this softening of resolve.
    Here Raul had a chance to bring home a fine wife and win his father's praise for once, instead of his disdain.
    Again his mind was made up.
    Until another of her damnable golden locks caught on the stubble of his chin and then all he knew was cast asunder again, tossed up in the air.
    With her quizzical glances and stubborn defiance in everything but the act of coupling, all that was expected and "usual" had flown from his grasp. As she would too, he suspected, given the chance.
    He thought back to a summer's day, many years ago, when he was waist deep in a river, half blinded by sunbeams bouncing off the water, and a pair of warm, heavy hands guiding his. "Let the fish come to you, boy. Have patience. Just like women they are slippery creatures and if you go charging after them they will lead you on a chase. Let them come to you, Raul. They will in time. Be cunning and lure them in."
    The voice was that of his father, of course, teaching him to catch fish. The memory of that moment—a rare one alone with Guillaume—was trapped in his mind like a fly in the web of a spider. He remembered thinking at the time how much he preferred hunting to fishing— how he enjoyed the chase, couldn't understand standing still and waiting. For where was the fun in being patient and waiting for the prey to come to him?
    Now that he was faced with a woman notorious for running, he didn't know how he would feel if she ran from him.