Free Samantha James by His Wicked Promise Page B

man to bring him to heel.”
    “And you think you are that man?”
    “Mayhap I am.”
    His tone had turned as hard as his gaze. “I meant no affront to your manhood,” she said stiffly. Sweet heaven, never that. She eyed his lean, powerful form, the depth and broadness of his chest, the power of his legs as he stood with booted feet slightly apart. The sun turning his eyes to a silvery-blue hue nearly took her breath away. The planes of his cheeks and jaw were deeply bronzed, and the breeze lifted a black lock of hair from his forehead. All she could think was that she’d never seen him look quite so handsome as he did at this moment.
    Everything inside her churned. She was wrong. She was afraid of him. What was she to do? she thought almost desperately. God help her, what was she to do?
    Exactly what he said , a voice inside her prodded. She must be rational. She could not be a fool. She could not gamble with others’ lives. She must put her feelings for him aside…she caught herself just in time.
    What madness was this? Her feelings for him…she had no feelings for him save what she’d stated last night! This was Egan. Above all, she must ever bear that in mind…
    This was Egan .
    Dear God, how could she forget? And why was this decision so hard, when it should have been so easy?
    She twisted her fingers in her skirts. “This is my home,” she said, her voice very low, “not yours. The duty is hardly yours.”
    His gaze seemed to sharpen. “I am well aware of that, Glenda. Be assured, I have no intention of wresting control from you.”
    For the longest time she said nothing, aware that he watched her. Then: “How long will you stay?”
    “As long as it takes. No more, no less.” His inflection, like his features, was impassive.
    Glenda nodded. When he had gone, she let out a long, uneven breath. She had denied that anything was happening between them. Indeed, she told herself, she would not allow it…
    Yet she was very much afraid it was already too late.
     
    By the end of the day, Glenda’s head ached abominably. She spent the day inspecting every inch of the castle. Though she would never have admitted it to anyone, she was disheartened by all she found over the next few days. The castle stores were vastly depleted—whether from careless waste or sheer inattentiveness, she knew not, though she suspected the latter. In truth, it didn’t matter either way. She must hope that the year’s harvest would be a fruitful one, that provisions for the winter ahead could be acquired.
    Nor was that the only worry. There were numerous repairs to be made. Egan had found several gaping holes in the castle walls and places where the stone had crumbled and fallen. The timbers that supported the rooms in the north tower were rotting andrequired replacement. And Egan was right. Blackstone Tower’s defenses were deplorable.
    It was Egan who found a mason to begin repairs. Their meals over the next few days were far better than the first as well. She suspected it was Egan who had gone out hunting, but he did not say, and Glenda did not ask. It was as if she’d convinced herself that the less she acknowledged him, the easier it would be to disavow his existence.
    If only it were so easy.
    Several days later, Simon Ruthven arrived just before the evening meal. Egan didn’t know what he’d expected, but it was not the tall fair-haired man who strode into the hall. He carried himself with the graceful, commanding air of a man who was confident of himself in all things. Clothing of deep, rich burgundy complemented the gold of his hair. His eyes were the color of jade. Full lips smiled beneath a long, well-shaped nose that had clearly never sustained damage from the brunt of another man’s knuckles. He was, Egan knew, the kind of man that women whispered about in hushed excitement, each longing to be his chosen one…the kind of man that he—Egan—was not.
    He gritted his teeth. Glenda had crossed to the newcomer. The