Chapter Five

Let it hurt.

Let it bleed.

Let it heal.

And let it go.

Roger, who’d lingered near, barked, “You will address him with the proper respect, wench. You will call him ‘my lord’ if you need to address him.”

Marcus observed her stormy gray eyes snap over to Roger as her gaze raked him. “I call no one ‘my lord’; he is not God. I’m neither servant nor slave. Not only that, I only give respect where and when it is due.” With an arch of one eyebrow, she narrowed her eyes at Roger and added, “I would advise you to stop calling me a wench. I’m starting to take offense to that word.” That said, she turned her head back to Marcus, completely dismissing Roger.

Marcus wasn’t sure what to make of her behavior. By all rights, he should punish her for her disrespect.

Marcus witnessed Roger’s expression at her treatment of his station, even if she didn’t appear to. He knew Roger would have backhanded the woman, and quite honestly, Marcus wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He couldn’t deny the possessive and protective feelings she created in him. Taking matters onto himself, he dismissed the people from the hall with the wave of a hand.

He wished to have a private word with his prisoner. If that was what she was going to be. There was something about her. If she had indeed traveled with that horse, then maybe she could help him find another one like it. His head snapped up at the sound of footsteps coming across the floor. He saw his current mistress moving toward him. He bit back his groan. Apparently, Clarissa didn’t feel she needed to leave the hall as everyone else had.

Clarissa was a tiny thing. Small and blonde. Her petite appearance was offset by the haughty manner and way she carried herself, the malice in her eyes as she glanced between him and Katrina.

“Clarissa, what is it? I did not want to be disturbed.” Marcus frowned at her as he tried to control his temper. Disobedience was not to be tolerated. Then, why am I allowing this other woman to get away with it?

“Marcus, my lord,” she purred. “I just wanted to see this new slave you brought home. I heard that she was dark-skinned. Can I have her for my own, please?” She blinked her eyes coquettishly at him.

Marcus looked at the woman who sat across from him and compared her to his mistress. There was something about the dark woman that made Marcus want to protect her in a way he had never felt about his mistress. When Katrina made no response to Clarissa, he assumed that she did not speak French as well as her odd English.

“She is not a slave, servant, or prisoner. She will be my guest for a while until I have some answers. Make sure you understand, Clarissa, she is not at yours to command. Have one of the rooms made for her. The one next to mine,” he added as an afterthought. Marcus debated as to why he wanted her so close, but could not think of any reason. Not that he was willing to admit to.

Clarissa held her tongue but narrowed her eyes, the only display of emotion she allowed. After a small curtsy, she headed off to presumably follow his instruction. He was confident she would do as he’d commanded even if she didn’t agree with his choice. She wanted to be the mistress of his castle. And, for that reason, he knew she couldn’t afford to anger him or make him suspicious of her actions. She couldn’t question him, yet.

Marcus was one of the richest knights in the kingdom. His castle was loaded with treasure and fine items. He had silks and furs and many more luxurious things that he understood Clarissa wished for herself. She loved jewels, and Marcus had a whole room that was filled with gold and jewels of all sizes. He’d heard the rumors that he had more wealth than the king. His castle actually had windows instead of openings covered with tapestries. He understood exactly why she wanted him.

Marcus felt Kit’s intense gaze on him, and it unnerved him in a way he’d not experienced before. There was something about this woman that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. I want to put my fingers on her. Explore her skin. Discover if it is as soft as I think it is. Once Clarissa vanished from view, he beckoned Katrina—or Kit as she said to call her—to follow him into a side room on the first floor. With a gesture for her to sit, he went and shut the doors, entrapping the two of them together, causing the tension in the room to vibrate with life and sexual desire. He then stared at her as he lowered his large body into a chair across from her.