“No damned tricks.”
“Is this how you pay your debts? I can wait, you know. So can you, or you’d be prey to your enemies. And you’ve so much vanity.” She gestured at the wine on the tables. “So have I. Will you? Or shall we both be animals?”
He might have attempted rape, and then murder; she felt the tilt in that direction. And she felt him pull the other way. Surprisingly he smiled.
And came and sat down across from her, and drank her wine, in slow silence there at the empty hearth. “We’ll be pulling out,” he told her in the course of that drinking, amid other small talk. “We’ll leave the town to-local forces. I’ll be taking all of mine with me.”
That was challenge. Strat, he meant. She stared at him from under her brows and let her mouth tighten ever so slightly at the corners. Her hand came to rest by the base of the wineglass. His covered it, and it was like the touch of fire. He sat there, his fingers moving ever so delicately, and let the fire grow-Wait, then. Enjoy the waiting. Till it was hard to breathe evenly, and the room blurred in the dilation of her eyes.
“We can wait all night,” he said, while her pulse hammered at her temples and the room seemed to have too little air. She smiled at him, a slow baring of teeth.
“On the other hand,” she said, and let her leg brush his beneath the table, “we could regret it in the morning.”
He got up and drew her up against him. There was no time for undressing, no thinking of anything more, but a tending toward the couch close at hand, a hasty and rough passage of feverish hands. He did not so much as shed the mail shirt; it resisted her fingers and she clenched her hands into his outer clothing.