Free Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms by Emily Murdoch Page A

moment.
    “Yes!” Avis stood up, in order to make her voice carry across the entire room. “And with that ownership comes responsibilities. The duty to keep me warm for example! Did you know there was no system here for ordering firewood? Or to keep me clothed? Half of my belongings were abandoned on the way here – or did you not know that? If you cannot care for me, my lord, I have no choice but to do things myself!”
    “Do you think I am ignorant?” Returned Melville. “I know how to care for a lady, but I do not see one when I look at you!”
    “Because I am slovenly, or dirty?”
    “Because you are Saxon!” Melville spat at her, standing up and staring at his wife. His height did not frighten her. Avis stared at him, shaking in anger, and stared at his blatant anger – but instead she was drawn even more strongly into his orbit, unable to escape how small he made her feel, but also the feminine force that he drew from her with his strong arms and powerful gaze.
    “Will you ever look past that, Melville?” The words had escaped her before she realised. Her eyes flickered down. One moment of weakness.
    “Will you ever forget that I am Norman, Avis?” Melville countered.
    The two of them stood there, a force between them simultaneously pushing them apart and bringing them together. Avis looked up at him, and saw the desire in his eyes – and she matched it. Never had a man drawn such emotion and such feeling from her. There were parts of her that were stirring that she did not previously realise she possessed, and she swayed slightly towards him.
    Melville saw the movement, and his heart leapt. He knew that he could tame this timid and yet terrifying beast if he chose to, but he did not know if he could match her passion. She was so young, and precious, and so angry. He could see the movement of her breast, and the desire that overflowed from his eyes was met by a similar lust from Avis. But suddenly he realised: she was Anglo-Saxon. She was probably taught to please – and by God, she would certainly please – but he would not give himself to a woman who would refuse to work with him. It would have to be a partnership, or nothing at all.
    Avis took a step backwards. Silence coated the atmosphere in the hall. All of the servants and Melville’s men had stopped eating, forks halfway to mouths, to watch the argument at the top table.
    Collecting her blood red robes around her, Avis slowly and gracefully walked its length and left quietly. A murmuring from the servants erupted as soon as she was no longer visible.
    “Silence!” Melville demanded. Fearful eyes turned towards him, and then looked quickly down at their food.
    Melville sighed. That woman! She knew exactly how to frustrate him, pointing out his faults in front of Anglo-Saxon servants, bringing herself closer and closer to him, taunting him with her very presence. How dare she! He had not realised how susceptible he clearly was to her charms. Pursing his lips, he knew that he would have to conquer her – just as her people had been conquered.
     
     
     

 
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
    Avis was angry. She was often angry in this new life of hers, but she was learning to channel it. Always a passionate child, she knew that the deep emotions that often stirred her could be used to do great things – and she was determined to do just that, whether Melville approved or not. As she almost ran away from the hall, she could feel her cheeks burning. To start considering this man as a man, as her equal, and not as a Norman, would be a mistake. She must not forget herself. By the time she had reached her bed chamber, she was resolved. She was going to continue to do exactly as she had been doing. Melville and his posturing be damned.
    The next morning saw her organising many servants, all busily working to change the hall in which she and Melville had had their last passionate but restrained encounter.
    “Higher!” she called to a male servant. “Higher