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She wanted to kill him, yes, but also felt reluctant admiration.
    Mixed with it, if she were honest, was secret anticipation, as well as curiosity that would not be denied.
    “Why? Why are you doing this?” The words, meant to be imperious, came out as a strangled plea.
    He glanced down at her, then away again before he began to walk once more. “Surely you can guess.”
    “I prefer to know.”
    “Ransom, maybe. The pay-off should be considerable for a princess.”
    “I suspected that at first, but now I misdoubt payment is your aim.”
    Watching him, she saw no sign of strain on his features. Neither was there the slightest faltering in his step or weakening in his arms around her. His strength really was exceptional.
    “You don’t seem to know your way around,” he offered almost at random. “You need someone to take care of you.”
    “I suppose you have nothing better to occupy your time?”
    “Let’s say I expect the reward to be worth the effort.”
    “Reward? And what might that be?”
    “It depends. The matter is open for negotiation.”
    There was, she thought, a certain grim evasion in his voice. With great daring, she asked, “Another kiss, you mean, or perhaps more than that?”
    He came to a halt and stared down at her. A fleeting hunger crossed his face, and then was gone. “Whatever pleases you,” he said evenly, “including your own sweet self.”
    The temerity of the man was beyond belief. “Not very likely!” she retorted.
    “We’ll see.” His tone carried an unmistakable threat as well as anticipation of his own.
    Turning her head, Mara saw the cottage was before them. He had taken a shortcut through the woods.
    Inside, everything was just as they had left it: the scraps of his breakfast in the dish, the dish and the eating utensils still on the table. The pan where he had cooked the pork and eggs had cooled, leaving the grease congealed in the bottom.
    “Home, sweet home,” he said as he stood her on her feet, holding her arm to steady her. She drew herself up, turning away in the direction of her sleeping chamber.
    “Hold on.” He tightened his grasp. “I think it would be a good idea if you cleaned the kitchen, then made yourself something to eat.”
    Clean? Cook? They were back to that? It was a far cry from what she had half-feared. She stared at him with disbelief before she spoke. “I am no scullery maid.”
    “We’ve already established your status, Princess,” he answered with irony. “I’m talking practical measures, here. There’s only one pan, and you need to clean it before you can use it. I’m not going to do it for you.”
    “I don’t require your service, just as I don’t require your food.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said sharply. “You’re nothing but skin and bones. You must eat.”
    His description of her form was most irritating. She lifted a brow. “My appearance is no concern of yours.”
    “It is if I have to look at you,” he corrected her as he put his fists on his hips. “Will you do as I say, or are you going to make me force you?”
    Her head was high and her gray eyes clear as she faced him. “You may be larger and stronger than I, but there are no means you can use to compel me against my will.”
    “No?” he inquired with soft emphasis.
    “No.” She lifted her chin as she answered, but her voice was not as commanding as she would have liked.
    “You’re dead wrong,” he said, taking a long step closer. “You are in my hands, as surely as if I had captured you like one of your old-fashioned knights or you were compelled to wed me against your precious will. Do you have any idea what that means?”
    She retreated a step, her voice uneven as she said, “Nothing at all, for I refuse—”
    “Refuse by all means, for what good it will do you.” He advanced another long stride so she was forced to back away from him. “You have no defense against me.”
    “I will resist with all my might.”
    “Do that. It will make