"I said put me down!"  Mustering her courage and the shreds of her dignity, Talia shoved her palms against the middle of his chest, trying to push away from the man, to unbalance him.  But that only seemed to amuse the beast.

"Dammit, settle yourself, woman."  He finally raised his faceplate with one hand, leaving her breathless again, her will abruptly trapped by a gaze darker than coal, and a heat more fiery than the sun.

"Release me, you foul-smelling lout!"  Not that he smelled foul in the least, or that she ought to be noticing his scent of leather and smoke.  "Unhand me this instant!"

This time his laughter was darker, entered low in her belly, vibrating the flat handle of his sword where it pressed the linen of her gown against her most intimate parts.

"Stop your squirming, madam, else you'll find yourself pierced through by more than my blade." 

The barbarian's meaning couldn't have been more clear.  He was taking liberties with her hem, sliding her already rucked kirtle up and up her thighs, his fingers traveling too quickly, too close, making her jump, and cling harder, higher against his neck till she was face to face with him.

"What are you doing, sir?  Stop!  I don't think you realize just who you're molesting."

"Madam, were I molesting you," his dark words echoing inside his helm before they found her, "I can guarantee that you'd be quite sure of it." 

But the man only kept to his indecent quest, mauling her thighs, tugging at her kirtle until it was hiked nearly to her waist and her most delicate flesh pressed fully against his sword handle and the leather of his hauberk, raising a thrilling flush all over her body.         

Not thrilling, entangling.  Abashing.  Sizzling.

"I said stop!"  She slapped the side of his helm again and drew another growling curse.

"Quiet yourself, woman."

"I'll do nothing of the sort.  I am Lady Talia and this is my castle, and if you don't put me down this instant, I'll see that you spend the rest of your wicked days rotting in my dungeon."

The warrior stilled for a long moment and then drew her closer and murmured against her ear.  "Your pardon, Lady Talia, but that is a prospect I fear I find far too tempting at the moment."

Steamy heat poured off him, seeped right through the front of her gown, flaming her cheeks.  "Your meaning, sir?"

"We are joined together, madam, if you haven't yet noticed."  He gave a yank at the back of her gown.  "Now, for both our sakes, hold still." 

"Joined?"  Unimaginable.  "We are not."  

And yet, there was something very deliberate about his movements, efficient almost, as he glared fiercely into her eyes, his straight white teeth set together in a grimace of concentration, while he shifted his hand at her bottom and lifted her slightly off his hips.

Then the blackguard reached down between his belly and hers, heading directly, unerringly, to that private place between her legs--

"Sir!"  Another well-deserved slap against his helm.  But it was Talia who gasped, whose heart gave that immodest leap.

"Still yourself!" he growled, still delving. 

And just when she thought he was going to take the boldest liberty of all, the churl yanked at her kirtle just below her thigh, and then lifted her fully off his waist with those huge hands of his, leaving her free of him at last and feeling absurdly bereft as she felt herself dropping until her feet hit the floor.

Breathless, her pulse racing madly, Talia backed up into the altar, then leveled a threatening finger at the enormous man who was righting his hauberk and breathing in deep gusts, as though he'd just run a mile in all that mail and leather.

"You will leave this chapel immediately, soldier, else I'll have you in chains for stealing from the church and for arrogance and for... for..."  For liberties!  For fondling me!  "Well, you know very well the full extent of your crimes!"

Father John appeared at her elbow, tugged on her sleeve.  "But that wasn't the way of it, Lady Talia.  He--"

He very well had fondled her!  But perhaps the good priest hadn't seen that.

"Don't worry, Father."  She pushed the stammering priest safely out of the way and grabbed a wooden challis off the altar.  "I'll have him brought to justice before whoever has just scaled my walls and plundered my castle."

"But my lady, he wasn't...."

"A pity that your lady is so thick headed, Father John."  The towering man advanced on her, his eyes glittering beneath his helm, his shoulders filling the chapel vaulting.  "Has she always been this way?"

Talia stuck her arm out in front of her to stop him, but he simply came on like a landslide.  "If you won't take your heathen self out of this place immediately, then I shall–"

"Lock me in your dungeon, madam?"  Oh, the man possessed a haughty laugh, dark and profusely compelling.

Despite her out-stretched arm and her dire warnings and her title, he'd backed her against the altar, his shoulders blotting out the torchlight, stealing her breath, making her wonder if she'd be found by her new guardian before his swordsman could assault her.

"Run, Father John!  Take the candlestick with you while you have the chance!" 

"But, my lady, 'tis what I've been trying to tell you!  He's the one who saved the candlestick and the relic coffer from one of Rufus's louts." 

Oh, innocent priest.  "You didn't see him, Father, as I did.  But when I came in, he was about to run you through!"

"Nay, my lady, he was helping me up from where I'd been thrown.  I don't know who you are, kind sir, but I'm most grateful."

"Please, Father--"  Talia ran to Father John's side, ready haul him away from the danger, when a knot of soldiers came through the chapel door. 

They stood at attention as one addressed the towering soldier.  "My lord!"

My lord?  So her tormentor was one of de Monteneau's officers.

The brute turned to the soldiers.  "Have you secured the gatehouse, sergeant?"

The sergeant bowed crisply.  "And all of the towers, my lord."

Oh, how she hated this–listening to the state of her castle in the hands of another.

"What of de Graffe?"  The man removed his gloves and tucked them into his swordbelt, bringing a blaze of heat to Talia's cheeks as she recalled her recent position there.

"Stripped of his tunic and boots and on the run, my lord, as you commanded." 

Talia nearly smiled.  Oh, to have seen that. 

"And now it seems we've gained a half-dozen of his men-at-arms."

"Men to be trusted?"

"Every one of them eager and greatly honored to give their service to you, my lord Alexander."

To him?  To the beast?

Mother Mary!  This man, this scandalizing brute, was their leader?  If so, please God, let him not also be her new guardian!  Let him be a trusted officer, sent ahead by de Monteneau to lead the assault.

"See to their assignments then, Dougal."

"Yes, my lord."  The man gave his lordship a sharp salute, made the sign of the cross toward the rood screen and then sped out the door, only to have an even more eager soldier and two squires take his place.

"The quay and the village are secure, my lord."

"Excellent, Gordon."

Talia's stomach fell and rose again.  Quigley!  Did he make it to the village in time?

"Oddest thing though, my lord... about the village."

"Odd in what way?"  The man pulled off his helm, and the leather cap with it, revealing a square, cleanly shaven jaw, and thick, gleaming black hair that tumbled out onto his broad shoulders.

"Empty, my lord.  Not a soul anywhere."

They got away!

"Indeed?"  The warrior cast Talia a long, narrow look of suspicion, boring right through her, as though he sought a secret from her.  "Thank you, Gordon.  Post sentries along the roads, and see to the horses."

"Yes, my lord.  But one more thing, if I might."  The sergeant wore a half-smile.

"Yes?"  His lordship swabbed his sleeve across his face. 

"Your banner now flies above the barbican."

A strangely deep emotion swept across the man's deeply planed features, a startled pride, that seemed to lodge in his shoulders, broadening them.  "Good.  Thank you, Gordon."

"Pleased to serve you, my lord."

And Talia could no longer the horrible truth.  His banner!  That could only mean-

"De Monteneau!"

"Alexander de Monteneau, my lady."  He nodded a careless, almost indiscernible bow in her direction.  "The new lord of Carrisford.  Which... I believe... makes you my ward."

His ward.  His chattel. 

His wife!

"I've been commissioned by his majesty, King Stephen, to unseat a rebel baron and fortify Carrisford."  He handed his helm and cap to one of the squires, strode to the chapel door in a jangle of spurs, and threw it open with a sweep of his arm.  "Which, it seems, I've done."

Another greedy, warring man to toss her around and threaten everything she loved. 

Not for long, my lord.  I've already seen to that.

"Well, isn't that thoughtful of the king to care."  You arrogant, rapacious bastard.  "As for you, de Monteneau, you need to understand from the outset that you may be my new guardian, that you may hold my lands at your pleasure, and steal my rents for your coffers, but there's one thing that I bloody well will not allow."

He frowned deeply.  "And that is, madam?" 

           Her heart seething with resolution, Talia leveled a finger up at him.  "I will not, no matter how you threaten or cajole, agree to marry you."