Subject:  CHAPTER 70 |
Author:
KITKAT
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Date Posted: 15:20:18 10/31/05 Mon
CHAPTER 70
Nicadea gasped at the blasphemy of his words. Did this man truly think he was a god? She pushed her wine away as if it were poison. The gods would protect her against one so evil.
“I wish to go back to my quarters,” she said, staring him in the eyes.
Mikelle was surprised at her sudden change in manner. He had thought his declaration of intention would have further subdued her, but she did not seem to be the least intimidated. If anything, she seemed to have gained strength. Interesting. “Your wishes matter little. I wish you to stay.”
She tensed, ready to bolt, knowing her chances of getting away were slim. The General a man used to having his own way. Maybe he was not beyond reason. “How can you want me to stay when I so clearly do not want to be here, my lord?”
He surprised her with a disarming smile. “I hear your words, but your lips have told me a different story.”
Her face reddened at the vivid memory the words brought to mind. “You are mistaken, my liege.”
“I could not be wrong about the passion you so openly displayed.”
Her eyes flashed violet. “Yes, you are right. It was passion you perceived, but it was not love or lust you saw in my face. My feelings for you are much darker. I hate and despise you, my lord. I would like very much to never see you again.”
An ominous silence followed her heated words. When Mikelle finally spoke, his words were low and measured. “You are a gazelle walking among the loins, my dear. Tread with care. Life for you could be pleasant or it could be a series of endless days filled with pain and drudgery. Your choice.”
“Pleasant for you, you mean. I have seen how Roman men treat their women. I would be used and cast aside when I was no longer suitable for breeding or plowing.”
His face darkened. “You have the tongue of a wasp, my lady. I would advise you to lighten your tone in my presence. As for your words, they are untrue. We will journey to meet my mother in a fortnight, and you will see the error of your judgment. Romans treat their women with honor and respect. You, however are not a Roman woman, and have done little to earn my respect.”
“Earn your respect? Why would I wish to court the respect of a Roman?”
He rose to his feet—shadowing her with his large form. “Come with me, Nicadea.”
The words struck her with fear, and her heart pounded in anticipation. Could he not wait until they had at least finished their meal? Her eyes rounded, and her knees felt too weak to lift her from the chair. “No.” The word was a barely spoken whisper, and she shook her head to give emphasis to her thoughts. “I cannot, my lord. I know you are much stronger than I and can take me as you would, but I can not come to you willingly.”
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