Free To Burn by Claudia Dain Page B

physically attacked him, he had never looked angry. But he was angry now. And the worst of it was that his anger didn't give her one moment of pleasure.

 
     
     
    Chapter 9

     
    "He is fascinated by you," Dorcas said to Melania as she paced in the courtyard.
    "Who?"
    "Wulfred." At Melania's blank look, Dorcas added in superfluous explanation, "The great Saxon oaf."
    "Is that his name?" she casually asked.
    She knew his name, and it was more than she wanted to know. It was more important that he know her name, which she was sure he did, even though he had never called her by it. Roman was what he called her, as if it were an insult. Stupid oaf. But he must know her name so that when she bested him he would have her name to howl to the sky in defeat until the day he gave the civilized world a gift by dying. A day that could not come soon enough to suit her—as long as she died first.
    "Did you hear...?" Dorcas finally asked.
    "Yes, he is fascinated by me, as well a worm should be in awe of a hawk. It does not surprise me. It does repulse me."
    She had not seen him for five days, and it had been eight since she had begun her latest campaign to thwart him in his determination to keep her alive. Five days... the villa was not large enough for that to have happened naturally. No, she had worked at it, avoiding him like the disease he was, bothered by the anger she had sparked in him. Angry that she was bothered by anything he did. And worse, disgusted that she found herself wanting to get a glimpse of him.
    She had not seen him for five days. This odd wanting could be explained away as morbid curiosity to see the effect she was having on his composure; surely he must be curious as to what she was doing, maybe even worried that she was getting the better of him in some way. And she was.
    If only he would seek her out. If only he would demand her presence so that she could refuse him; there would be great satisfaction in that. Had he forgotten her in the past five days? Had he forgotten that she was his enemy and needed watching? Had he forgotten the anger that she had unknowingly sparked in their last exchange? Had he forgotten their hatred of each other? She hadn't, not in five days. She wouldn't in five years. But where was he?
    Melania paced restlessly, like an animal tethered.
    She had a pounding headache behind her eyes. She'd had it for days.
    "You could use it," Dorcas said, relentless in her efforts at conversation.
    "Use what?" Melania asked, reluctantly being drawn away from her angry preoccupation.
    "His fascination."
    "What are you trying to say?" Melania stopped her pacing.
    "Do you know nothing of men, of him?" Dorcas asked, her tone almost exasperated.
    "I know he is a monstrous oaf, hardly a man at all, but more a beast or a pestilence. A deadly pestilence that destroys all before and behind it. Yes," she continued, warming to her topic, "he is like a worm, feeding on death. Why?" she asked, letting her pain feed her anger.
    Dorcas did not answer. Wulfred, the worm, was standing in the gateway to the courtyard.
    * * *
    Of course, he'd heard every word. When had she ever hidden her thoughts? Or her venom.
    She'd been hiding from him. It had been five days since she had stood before him spouting words on Roman justice—words she hardly knew the meaning of. It had taken him the better part of two days to be certain that the anger she had sparked in him was within his control.
    Five days. She looked smaller than he remembered her, if that was possible, little more than tendon and bone. And so agitated, as if she would fly out of her skin if she could. But what did she do with herself? He knew that she did no hard labor—she was too carefully watched for that—but what of the light tasks that were more comfortable for her? How did she spend her time?
    He had watched her intermittently, though he had men enough to do the duty if he had demanded it. He had not. She was his enemy and he would see to her.
    He had