The Taming Read online

  She turned to the farmer’s wife. “Take off your dress.”

  “My lady!”

  “Take off your dress and give it to me, then return to the castle. Find my maid, Joice, and tell her no one is to search for me.”

  The woman paled. “Your maid will never talk to the likes of me.”

  Liana tugged an emerald ring from her finger and handed it to the woman. “Nearby is a knight, probably searching for me. Give him this and he will take you to Joice.”

  The woman’s expression changed from fearfulness to slyness. “He is a handsome man, isn’t he?”

  Liana narrowed her eyes at the woman. “If I hear one word of this in the village, you’ll regret it. Now, get out of here.” She sent the woman away wearing only a coarse linen undergarment, as Liana wasn’t about to allow the woman’s filthy body to touch the velvet of her gown.

  The peasant dress Liana put on was very different from her high-waisted, full-skirted gown. The scratchy wool was one piece that clung to her body from her neck to below her hips, showing the slim curves of her body. The wool was crude and dirty and it stank, but it was revealing. She rolled the sleeves, stiff with years of grease, back to her elbows. The skirt reached only to her ankles and the shortness made her feel free to walk or even run through the ferns.

  With this dress on, Liana felt she was ready to face what lay ahead. She peeped through the branches to look at the man again. Every time she’d ever seen the peasants laughing and chasing one another through the fields came back to her. She’d once seen a boy give a flower to a girl. Would this divinely handsome man offer her flowers? Perhaps he’d weave a garland for her hair as one knight had done for her a few months ago—except this time it would be for real. This time the man would present her with flowers because of her person and not for her father’s wealth.

  Her heavy headdress removed and hidden in the bushes, her long pale hair streaming down her back, Liana stepped forward into the clearing and toward the man. He did not awaken even when she stumbled over a pile of rocks.

  She moved closer to him, but he didn’t stir. He was indeed a beautiful man, made the way God intended a man to look. She could hardly wait for him to see her. She’d been told that her hair was like spun gold. Would he think so?

  His clothes were in a heap not too far from him, and she went to them and lifted his shirt, holding it at arm’s length, putting her hands out to the wide edges of the broad shoulders. The wool was thickly spun, and she thought what a better job her women did at spinning.

  As she looked at the shirt she saw something odd, then leaned forward for a closer look. Lice! The shirt was crawling with lice.

  With a little squeal of disgust, she threw the shirt from her.

  One moment the man was asleep on the ground and the next he was standing before her in all his nude glory. He was indeed magnificent: tall, powerfully muscled, not an ounce of fat. His thick shoulder-length hair was dark, but it looked almost red in the sunlight, and there was a reddish stubble on his heavy jaw. His eyes were dark green and alive with emotion.

  “How do you do?” Liana said, holding out her hand to him, palm downward. Would he sink to one knee before her?

  “You threw my shirt in a bog,” he said angrily, looking down at the pretty blue-eyed blonde.

  Liana withdrew her hand. “It was crawling with lice.” What did one say to a huntsman when one was his equal? Lovely day, isn’t it? Would you like to fill my water jug for me? There, that seemed ordinary enough.

  He gave her an odd look. “You can get my shirt out of the bog and wash it. I have to go somewhere today.”

  He had a very pleasant voice, but she didn’t like what he was saying. “It’s good the shirt sank. I told you it was covered with lice. Perhaps you’d like to pick blackberries. I’m sure we could find—” To her consternation, the man grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward the pool, then gave her a shove.

  “Get my shirt out of the bog and wash it.”

  How dare he touch her without permission! Liana thought. Wash his shirt, indeed! She’d leave now and go back to her own clothes and her horse and the safety of her father’s castle. She turned away, but he caught her forearm.

  “Can’t you hear well, girl?” he said, spinning her about. “Either you get the shirt out or I throw you in after it.”

  “Throw me in?” she asked. She was on the verge of telling him who she was and just what she would or would not do when she looked into his eyes. Handsome eyes, yes, but also dangerous eyes. If she told him she was Lady Liana, daughter of one of the richest men in England, would he perhaps hold her for ransom?

  “I…I have to get back to my husband and…and children. Lots of children,” she said haltingly. She had liked this man’s aura of power when he was asleep, but when he was holding her arm, she didn’t like it nearly as much.

  “Good,” he said, “then, with lots of brats, you’ll know how to wash a shirt.”

  Liana looked toward the oozy black bog where only his shirtsleeve could be seen. She had no idea how to wash a shirt, and the idea of touching the lice-infested thing repulsed her.

  “My…my sister-in-law does my laundry,” she said, and was pleased with herself for having thought of such a good idea. “I’ll go back and send her to you. She’ll be glad to wash it.”

  The man didn’t say a word but pointed at the bog.

  She realized he was not going to allow her to leave. Grimacing, Liana walked toward the bog and leaned forward to reach the edge of the sleeve. She couldn’t reach it, so she stretched further—then further.

  She fell face forward into the rich, thick ooze of mud, her arms sinking to her elbows, her face covered. For a moment she struggled to get out of the bog, but there was nothing to hold on to. Then an arm swooped down and pulled her up to dry land. She stood there sputtering for a moment, then the man pushed her backward into the pond.

  Face forward into a bog, then backward into ice-cold water.

  She managed to get to her feet and started out of the pond. “I am going home,” she muttered, feeling close to tears. “Joice will make me a hot posset and build me a fire, and I’ll—”

  The man caught her arm. “Where do you think you’re going? My shirt is still buried.”

  She looked up into his cold green eyes and all fear of him left her. Who did he think he was? He had no right to order her about even if he thought she was the lowliest field gleaner. So he thought he was her master, did he?

  She was wet through and freezing, but anger was keeping her warm. She smiled what she hoped was an ingratiating smile at him. “Your wish is my command,” she murmured, and managed to keep a calm face when he grunted with satisfaction, as if that was the answer she was supposed to give.

  She turned her back to him and got a long stick from under a tree, then went back to the bog. She fished the shirt out, held it on the end of the stick for a moment, then with all her might, she sent it flying to hit him cold and hard smack across the face and chest.

  While he was peeling the shirt from his body, Liana began to run. She knew the woods better than any stranger ever could, and she went straight to a hollow tree and disappeared inside it.

  She heard him crashing through the woods nearby and she smiled to herself at his inability to find her. She’d wait until he was gone, then go to her horse on the other side of the pond and make her way home. If he was a huntsman, tomorrow she’d greet him in her father’s house and have the satisfaction of hearing his apology for his conduct today. Perhaps she’d borrow one of Helen’s gowns, something covered in furs, with a jeweled headdress. She’d sparkle so brightly he’d have to shield his eyes from the glare.

  “You might as well come out,” he said from just outside the dead tree.

  Liana held her breath.

  “You want me to come in after you? Or shall I chop the tree down around your ears?”

  Liana couldn’t believe he really knew where she was. Surely he was bluffing. She didn’t move.