Chapter Nineteen

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            As Alana returned inside, she released the breath she had been holding. Mayhap, she wondered fretfully, she had overstepped her limitations. What had prompted such a reaction from her? Why did it matter to her if these men marred each other with swords?

            She knew her reasons though she’d rather not acknowledge them. Closing her eyes she took a moment to steady her breath. Violence was senseless, a picture that rushed to mind, was so quick to remind her so. She was frozen in that nightmare, the lives of so many taken tragically.

            “Stupid girl!” Alana whirled around, startled, as an angry Matilda stormed into the hall, wagging a finger in her face. “Do you realize what you have done? No thrall has ever dared to behave in such a manner! I will not have it, do you hear? I will not be accountable because of a Saxon miss whose brain is addled! You will learn your place. You-“

            “Silence, haggard!” both women stiffened as a man’s voice penetrated the corridor.

            Immediately the older woman withdrew and curtsied to the man standing in the shadows. “My apologies, Master Curran-“ Matilda straightened and began backing away as Curran stepped into the light, his gray eyes peering coldly at the older woman, who appeared genuinely fearful of the man.

            “You are dismissed.” He said and Matilda immediately hastened to escape his presence.

            Feeling very much cornered and suddenly wary of the warrior, Alana attempted to do the same but as sly as the wolf he resembled, he captured her arm with striking adeptness.

            Those gray eyes seem to transform in the light, flaring extraordinary silver. “You have no need to run.” He said softly with a tone that lacked gentleness. “I would have a word with you.”

            Alana studied him in silent, slightly taken aback. If not for his known dealings in cruelty, she would have considered him remarkably handsome, but his certain merciless nature diverted her opinion.

            “I have no interest in anything you have to say, Norman.” She tried pulling free but his grip stayed her efforts.

            He grinned a wolfish grin, “My brother is quite taken with you.” Reluctantly he released his grip and stepped around her, his silver eyes drawn to her mouth. “He is not usually affronted with rejection-“ he chuckled deeply, “-you are a conquest he seeks to conquer.”
            Her temper flaring she turned to face him. “I will not be a triumph!”

            He stepped toward her and she found herself retreating despite her determination to stand her ground. His silver eyes swept over her frame in a heated stroke. “My brother is not the only man that wishes to conquer you, Saxon.”

            Green eyes narrowed sharply, “Not ever, Norman.”

            He stepped toward her and Alana flinched, prompting a crooked smile that curved his cruel lips but any retort was left unsaid as a large, menacing shadow appeared in the hall.

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