Free The Damsel's Defiance by MERIEL FULLER Page B

out.’
    Talvas smiled. ‘When I’m good and ready.’
    Emmeline drew her knees up to her chest, looping her hands around them. She would rather freeze to death than give him the satisfaction of watching her climb from the bath. ‘Why did you offer to captain the ship?’
    ‘To annoy you.’
    She ignored him. ‘Surely you planned to travel to Boulogne?’
    ‘It matters not to me whether I stay here or return to England.’ Talvas shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘I have castles and lands in both.’
    ‘And you condemn me for trying to squeeze an extra ten gold coins from the Empress!’ she flung back at him, green eyes blazing. He obviously had no idea what it was like to live from hand to mouth, to worry each day where the next meal was coming from. She shook her head. ‘Why not choose to stay here? I will find another captain.’
    ‘So desperate to be rid of me, mam’selle? Nay, I will travel to England.’ The tempting upper curve of her breast snared his gaze, just visible after she turned her head.
    ‘Unluckily for me.’ Her fingers scrabbled for the towel that Beatrice held out to her, wrapping it around her shoulders and rising in one movement so that the towel’s soft folds covered her nakedness.
    Talvas’s breath caught. Her hair, darkened by the water, straggled out in ripples over the rough gathers of the towel, falling to her hips from the pale shimmer of her face. ‘What’s the matter, mam’selle? ’ His voice spiralled sarcastically into her ear. ‘Suddenly regretting your generosity to the Empress now that I’ll be at the helm?’
    ‘It wasn’t supposed to be generosity,’ she spat back. ‘She was supposed to pay well for the privilege.’
    ‘You still have fifteen gold coins,’ he replied. The humour dropped from his face. ‘Your greed will get the better of you one day.’
    She wrapped the towel more tightly around her, her face flushing. He made her transaction with the Empress sound underhand and dishonest. ‘I have done nothing to be ashamed of.’ She drew herself up, conscious that Beatrice had retreated to a far corner of the room. ‘I realise that high-born nobles such as yourself would not dirty your lily-white hands with “trade”, but the rest of us have to earn a living. How dare you judge me!’
    Rocking back on his heels, Talvas stared at her vivid, animated features, her wide, determined eyes and knew himself to be chastised. In that moment he witnessed the raw tenacity and courage within the graceful lines of her face. The loosely woven folds of linen gathered around her shoulders to frame the delicate column of her neck, the pale colour of the fabric emphasising the heightened pink of her cheeks, the flashing emerald of her eyes. From deep within him, the beating lump that was his heart, a lump devoid of all feeling and emotion, softened imperceptibly.
    ‘I stand corrected,’ he demurred, grudgingly admiring her verve.
    ‘Beatrice can escort me to the great hall,’ she continued haughtily. ‘Now leave us be.’
    ‘As you wish.’ He ducked his midnight locks into a bow, before sweeping one last look over the tempting sight before him.
    As the door closed behind him, her lungs expelled a huge gust of air. Grasping the edge of the tub, the wood slipping beneath her fingers, she stepped out cautiously, mindful of her leg. Before she had time to catch the chill of the air, Beatricehad enveloped her in another large linen square and led her to a low stool in front of the fire.
    ‘That man,’ Emmeline said, almost to herself, but shaking her head at Beatrice.
    ‘He’s very handsome,’ the maid replied.
    ‘More like very irritating.’ Emmeline sat down smartly on the low stool as Beatrice began to run an ivory comb through her long tresses. When she had finished, the girl moved over to the oak coffer and, opening it, began to rummage through a rippling pile of clothes, before triumphantly holding up two richly decorated garments with a satisfied