Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  He drained his cup of the strong black coffee he'd gotten into the habit of drinking in the morning, wondering how much of his planning would succeed. His first ploy, reminding the girl she was lady of the house, hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped. She hadn't refused the food put in front of her, but she also hadn't said anything. Silence wasn't a good sign, not with a woman like her, but maybe she was just waiting for him to apologize. Since that was next on his list, he'd try it and see.

  "As I said a little while ago, we have to talk," he began, at the same time gesturing for more coffee. "Since you're not finished eating and I am, I'll start."

  He waited until his cup was refilled and the serving man had left, hoping she would at least comment once they were alone, but she didn't even glance at him. All her attention was on her plate, and the unexpectedly large amount of food it still held. For someone who had spent a good number of minutes eating, she hadn't managed to swallow much.

  "I've been thinking about last night, and it's come to me that I owe you an apology," he said, trying hard to sound ashamed and regretful. "You accused me of taking advantage of your innocence, and you were perfectly right. I did do exactly that, but it wasn't entirely my fault. If you weren't so desirable, so much a woman who makes a man forget his honor - What in hell are you doing?"

  Bryan hadn't meant to add that last, but the words had simply popped out. He'd been distracted by Rianne's distraction, following her gaze to where she was simply moving things on her plate. Every time her fork went to her mouth it was empty, and that was why her plate looked so full.

  "I'm rearranging things to suit myself," she murmured in answer to his blurted question, still not looking up. "You were saying…?"

  "I wasn't saying, I was apologizing," he pointed out, now fighting to hold down a growl. "Don't you even care?"

  "Of course I care," she responded, still not looking up. "Please go on."

  "How can I - " Bryan began, then broke off the protest. He'd been about to say something about not being able to talk to the top of her head. Right. With an opening like that, she'd - Better to just get on with it, and remember he'd known it wouldn't be easy.

  "All right, back to the apology," he said after taking a deep breath and a sip of coffee. "You really are due one, a sincere one, and that's what I'm trying to give you. But if I didn't feel that way, I'd have to point out how much pleasure we shared only because I took advantage of you. If I hadn't, we both would have missed out."

  "Then you think it's all right to take advantage of someone if the act brings eventual pleasure?" she asked when he paused, moving egg scraps carefully into some obscure pattern. "That means whatever you do is all right, as long as it leads sometime to pleasure."

  "No!" Bryan almost shouted, then reestablished some vestige of control. "No, it means nothing of the sort," he went on more softly. "Looking at things only in terms of your own pleasure is shallow and stupid, not to mention dishonorable. I was simply trying to point out - God, I don't know what I was trying to point out. All I'm saying is that I know I did wrong and I'm sorry."

  Bryan had expected this second ploy to succeed a lot better. Women loved it when a man asked for their forgiveness, reveling in the power it gave them. They also usually gave that forgiveness, just to prove they were better people. He'd hoped his sweet little wife would do the same, getting some of the satisfaction that really was due her, but now… He wouldn't have bet a copper penny on the possibility, not any longer.

  "That was very nicely said," she granted, moving her ham a bit more toward the center of her plate. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

  Bryan felt the urge to close his eyes. Nothing he'd said had reached her, and all he wanted to do was grab up that plate she toyed with and send it smashing into a wall. Couldn't she see he really was trying to patch things up between them…?

  "Yes, there is something else," he said, then made a major effort to smooth the growl out of his voice. "I still haven't given you my wedding gift, but that's easily remedied. This is for you, wife."

  He opened the case before standing it on the table between them. He expected her to took directly at it, and then be caught by the beauty of the set. A necklace and earrings in diamonds and emeralds, shaped into a delicately spreading cluster of leaves in the center of the necklace, the earrings smaller clusters that matched. The exquisite workmanship had caught Bryan's eye some years earlier, and he'd bought the set with the express purpose of giving it to the woman he would someday marry…

  "That's very pretty," the woman he'd married said after no more than the shortest of glances before ignoring the set entirely. "Thank you."

  This time Bryan did close his eyes, the better to struggle with the rage that wanted to erupt out of him. Not since the age of three had he had so much trouble with a woman, or felt so helpless to stop it. Any other woman would have melted at the sight of that gift, or at least given a little. If he'd had any doubts about how determined the girl would be to fight him, they were now gone. She'd formed her own plan of attack, and so far it had been a damn sight more successful than his own. He finished his coffee in a single swallow, then got to his feet.

  "Let's go," he said, a good deal more curtly than he'd originally intended. "I planned to show you the house this morning, and there's no reason to change that. You also have to have the rest of the staff introduced to you."

  She hesitated a moment, as though debating whether or not to argue, then rose smoothly to her feet without a word. Bryan realized he would have been a lot happier if she had argued. No argument meant the attack would come from another quarter, almost certainly when he least expected it. A sane man would have marched her back to her bedchamber and locked her in, saving his resources for the conversation he would have that night with Robert Harding…

  But Bryan was feeling too stubborn to be sane. After he had what he wanted from Harding he'd be able to tell the girl everything, and that would probably bring problems of its own. But there was also a chance she would understand what he'd done and why, and even beyond that would approve. That was the reason he was working so hard now, trying to reach her before she knew the truth. He wanted her to trust him without knowing the reasons for his plan. He wanted her to care for him, who he was, alone.

  Right. As he followed her silent figure out of the sitting room, he knew beyond doubt that he was living in a fantasy world. His new wife was determined not to trust him again no matter what he said or did, but he refused to give up. He had to try, and keep trying, until he'd won or was dead…

  Rianne winced as the door was slammed shut behind her, the sound of the key turning in the lock coming immediately afterward. She was still angry herself from the heated words she and the brute had just exchanged, but she was also grimly satisfied. Treat her like a backward child, would he…?

  She went to a chair and sat, glad to be able to do it after all the time they'd spent walking around. He'd insisted on showing her every inch of that very large house, and had introduced every person they'd come across. Rianne continued to be distant and gratingly agreeable, and he had kept on with his clenched-teeth patience. Waiting for her to be a fool again and start believing him, surely…

  But it hadn't worked out like that. The women in the house had gushed at her, the men had shown the most grotesque smiles imaginable, but she hadn't let any of it fool her. They didn't want her there any more than she wanted to be there, but for some reason they'd felt it necessary to pretend. They all acted as though they were very happy about the marriage. His doing, probably, in an effort to make life more pleasant for himself. Too bad he didn't know she would scarcely be there that long…

  No, not too bad, she amended to herself, remembering how he'd been when he'd finally stopped pretending patience. He had taken her outside to show her one of the outbuildings, a large carriage house and stables that had been converted into a barracks and training area. The men inside had been hard at work, practicing with weapons in small groups. Most of them
hadn't been very good, and the brute must have read that opinion in her expression.

  "These men are new recruits, only just getting started," he said, obviously trying not to sound defensive. "I have a dozen experienced men here instructing them, and by the time they're through these will be almost as good."

  "I'm sure," Rianne commented, idly examining each of the groups. "How much do you pay these recruits?"

  "Ten coppers the fortnight and keep," he answered with a frown. "Why do you ask?"

  "I was just curious about how much I'd be earning," she replied with a shrug. "You do remember offering me a position, two days ago on the road? Since I have to be here, I might as well consider accepting."

  "I made that offer to a likely boy," he returned with a snort. "Pretty girls don't fit in well in men's barracks, even if the men themselves would enjoy it. And you seem to forget - you already have a different position."

  "Since I'd be starting out better than most of these, I think I should get more than ten coppers," Rianne mused, ignoring the brute's comments as she strolled closer to one group. "Just look at that one. Not only doesn't he know how to stand, I'll be surprised if he doesn't end up dropping his weapon. A child could best him."

  Rianne made no effort to keep her voice down, and no one in the area had missed what she said. The recruit had been clumsily fencing with blunted training swords with a man who was clearly an instructor. When the other men watching began to laugh out loud at Rianne's observation, the object of her ridicule disengaged and whirled around with a murderous scowl. Dark-haired and light-eyed and not recently shaven, the young man's sweat had stained his cheap homespun shirt and breeches. His darkened skin added to the low, menacing look of him, but Rianne just smiled in answer to his scowl.

  "Ignoring insults should be the first lesson you learn around here, fellow," Machlin said quickly to the man. "When you get mad you lose control of yourself, and right after that you lose the fight. Just calm down and take it in stride."

  "You didn't call him 'boy,'" Rianne hurried to point out, still smiling in a superior way. "You called my - friend 'boy,' and he's much better than this creature. As a matter of fact, so am I."

  "That's enough, woman," Machlin growled as the recruit bristled up again. He also sent her a furious glance as he tried to add, "We'll talk about this later - "

  "But what good will it do him not to be told how bad he is?" Rianne immediately interrupted. "He should know even a woman is better. And I am better, aren't I. "

  She stared up at Machlin with that, daring him to lie just to calm the young man. He'd been quick enough to know she was trying to trap him, but searching for where the trap lay made him hesitate just a little too long. The recruit's touchy temper flared when Rianne's latest insult wasn't immediately denied, and he threw the training sword down to draw a fully edged and pointed dagger.

  "I'll not have no bitch puttin' on the airs with me," he snarled, his thick accent slurring the words. "Treatin' honest folk like dirt, that's all your sort be good fer. Took it all me life, I did, but won't be takin' it no more."

  He started toward her with the dagger tight in his fist and fury blazing from his eyes. Rianne was briefly sorry she'd had to use the young man in her schemes, but she'd needed someone to start a riot. Men who were gentle-natured didn't join a company of fighters, and with that sort a single spark could well ignite the lot of them. One of the instructors would try to stop the young man, a fight would start, and then everyone would be joining in. Chances were excellent that the brute would become embroiled, and then she would be able to slip away…

  Only it hadn't happened like that. Remembering, Rianne shifted in annoyance in her chair, still unsure as to why it hadn't. The instructor of the group had stepped forward to keep his other students back, letting the one with the dagger continue on without interference.

  "To me," the brute had said quietly to the young man, stepping out in front of Rianne. "You come to me with complaints like that."

  He hadn't armed himself for the tour of his house and grounds, just put on his vest and coat, but the young man didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and considered the difference in their size enough to justify his weapon. The recruit, though broader of shoulder, was barely taller than Rianne. His furious gaze and menacing advance shifted immediately to Machlin, and the next instant he attacked.

  Or, to be precise, tried to attack. Rianne had watched the brute lean to his right as the dagger flashed to his left, and then he had both oversized hands on the young man's wrist and arm. One quick, complicated twist later the recruit was turned away from the brute and bent over, making soft sounds of pain as he himself held very still. The dagger lay on the floor where he'd dropped it, useless and already forgotten.

  "Lose your temper, and you'll always lose the fight," the brute had said then into absolute silence. Not another man in the whole room made a sound, not even so much as a shuffling of feet. "She's right about being better with a sword than you, but that's only because she's had more practice. And when she's fighting, she ignores what's being said and pays attention only to what's being done. You'll learn that yourself, but first you have to learn something even more important. I'm better than everyone in this room, and I'll kill the next man who comes at me in serious attack. Is there someone here who thinks I can't? Or won't?"

  He'd looked around deliberately then, giving them all a chance to answer, but no one took it. Here and there someone who must have been an instructor smiled quietly, but no words were spoken. A long, heavy moment passed, and then the brute released the young man with a small push.

  "All of you get back to work," he said, no warmth at all in his voice. "I want you able to join a company before the colonies are all settled."

  The silence was immediately broken by men returning to their practice, and then the brute had come over to her.

  "Now you and I will have a few words," he growled, wrapping one of those hands around her arm. "Right this way."

  He'd pulled her out of the practice room and back to the house, and hadn't stopped until he'd reached the front hall. With no one in sight he'd finally come to a halt, then had looked down at her with furious gray ice.

  "What in hell did you think you were playing at back there?" he demanded, one big hand closed into a fist. "I didn't hire those men to see them dead, but if that boy had come at me again I would have had to kill him. What did you think you were trying to accomplish?"

  "I was simply trying to find out about that offer you'd made me," Rianne had answered with chin high, fighting to keep her voice steady. She'd never seen anyone do what he'd done unarmed against a weapon, hadn't even known it was possible… "Are you saying you lied about the offer, that your word really is worthless?"

  "I thought I was making that offer to a man," he'd repeated slowly and deliberately, unblinkingly enunciating each word. "When I have the time to coax the names of your two friends out of you, you'll see I wasn't lying. I promised them hire and they'll have it, because they're men. You, on the other hand, are my wife."

  "Is that supposed to be my fault?" Rianne had flared immediately, finding it impossible to keep calm. "I'm not the one who demanded marriage, but maybe you've conveniently forgotten. And you'll never - 'coax' - those names out of me, not if you had all the time in eternity. You can do your worst, or even kill me as you threatened to do with those men. Go ahead, kill me!"

  Rianne had regretted those overly dramatic words as soon as they were out; seeing immediate amusement in the gray eyes looking down at her made it that much worse. The brute wasn't about to kill her, at least not until her inheritance was in his hands and he'd tired of using her body. Her temper had pushed her into sounding like a silly child, and it was certain he could see the flush in her cheeks.

  "You're mistaken, little one," he said, his voice now very smooth. "I didn't threaten those men, I gave them a solemn promise. They know that even if you don't." And then, suddenly, all amusement was gone. "And although I've mentioned th
is point before, you seem to need it repeated: I do not kill helpless women, even when provoked."

  About to hotly contest the idea of her being helpless, Rianne had found it necessary to pause. Those cold gray eyes were looking at her so strangely…

  "Then I'd like to know what you do do," she demanded, mostly to keep from showing how unsure she was. It was possible to hurt people terribly without killing them, something she'd learned all those years ago… "Go ahead, tell me what awful thing you'll do instead."

  "If you don't start behaving yourself I'll take away every one of your dolls," he'd said as she waited for the worst, then raised one dark-red brow. "Can we stop playing games for now? I really do have some serious business that needs my attention."

  "You despicable lowlife," she'd choked, absolutely livid with embarrassment. After everything she'd been picturing, he had the utter gall to say that? "You low, mean brute of a man! You fiend, you -!"

  "Look, I still don't know why, but you started that trouble in the training hall deliberately," he interrupted her to say. "I really have been trying to be patient, but some things I simply can't allow. If you start trouble, you can't expect not to have some of it come back at you."

  "Then you have to be given something to expect, too," she'd countered hotly. "Retaliation."

  By then she'd raised her skirts a bit, but not to show the soft slippers worn by most women at home. Rianne, with escape in mind, had put on short but sturdy walking boots. Her kick landed on his shin with a greatly satisfying thunk! and he drew his breath in with a hiss as he flinched.

  "All right, that does it," he'd said in a growl. "We'll see how much you like retaliation after you've spent the rest of the day in your rooms. I'm sure you'll find it a good deal more pleasant than my company has been."