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swift glance at his face showed no weakness now, only a steady resolve she’d do well to heed. Though his blue eyes burned with fever and pain, she couldn’t mistake the outrage lurking there. Had she insulted him? Could it be that he was no more a traitor than she?
    Or mayhap he was simply better at disguising his true nature.
    She pushed away from him, making him reel for a moment before he caught his balance against the wall. He retained his grip on her hand, however, maddening her all the more. “With what reason?” she asked. “I am a true and loyal subject of our king—”
    “Are you?” he ground out, straightening to his full height and taking a step toward her. “I know nothing of you, lady—not so much as who you are, or the name of this place.”
    “Tuck’s Tower,” she told him with hard-won calm. “Do you know of it?”
    He shook his head. Then, his lips twisting into a mocking smile at odds with the steel in his gaze, he tugged her nearer. “But who are you? A lady dressed in warrior’s garb…I’ve only known of one other woman who would do so. ’Tis uncommon, you must admit—rare enough to raise questions in a curious man’s mind. Do you command the defense of Tuck’s Tower, milady?” With his free hand he cupped her chin, then slid his fingers down along her neck and over her shoulder before stopping, his open palm pressed lightly just above her breast. “’Tis a puzzle certain to entice a man,” he murmured. “Or could it be you’re simply a siren, meant to lure a man to your bed and render him your slave?”
    The low timbre of his voice sent a shiver of awareness down her spine and made her heartbeat thrum faster beneath his hand—he found her alluring?—before the insult of his words and boldcaress made its way to her poor besotted brain. He mocked her, more likely.
    Though it took all her resolve, she reached up and yanked his hand away. “Hardly a siren,” she scoffed with a mirthless laugh. “Nor a puzzle, either. I am simply a woman, though one with no wiles to tempt a man. I scarce appear a woman at all.” She grabbed the loose-fitting tail of her shirt and held it out. “A man’s garb, stout armor and a strong sword are hardly the weapons of enticement, though they serve me well enough.”
    “Aye, they suit you well indeed, milady,” he said, his gaze roaming along her from head to toe, lingering upon her legs in their snug braes before rising to her face and pinning her fast within the heated blue of his eyes. Sudden awareness hardened his features; he shook his head and glanced away for a moment. When he turned back to her, his expression pensive, he added, “Mayhap you’re naught but an outlaw or a robber, then, setting upon any hapless traveler who passes your way. This is Sherwood Forest, after all.”
    How dare he accuse her? “The blow to your head has clearly scrambled your brain. I saved your worthless life, you idiot! Is that the act of a robber?” she demanded.
    Throughout their discourse he’d retained his hold on her hand and the parchment she’d found in his pack—a fact she had scarce noted till now, to her shame—but her fury made her aware of it, and gave her the impetus to jerk herself free.
    It infuriated her all the more that he let her.
    “You’ll find no outlaws here—” She clamped her mouth shut, afraid her temper might lead her into dangerous waters. She drew in a calming breath. “Nor traitors, either.”
    Julianna wanted nothing more than to pound out her anger and frustration upon his chest, but she greatly feared that to touch him thus would do naught but beguile her to lay her hands on him in other, less aggressive ways.
    Sweet Mary save her, had she lost all sense of self-preservation, of right and wrong? The man called her robber and traitor, and what did she do but seek to draw his attention to her in any way she could. She knew better.
    She stepped away before her temper led her into worse foolishness, pausing an