The Prize by Julie Garwood

around the shoulders, and she was covered with dead leaves.
    Royce didn't say a word, just leaned forward to examine the damage. She cried out in pain before he'd even touched her.
    "Nicholaa, it's common to wait until you've felt the pain before you complain," he explained.
    "I was preparing," she snapped.
    He hid his smile. He was already certain the ankle wasn't broken. There wasn't a hint of swelling around the bone. She could move her toes without crying out, too, another sure indication to him that she'd merely bruised herself.
    "It isn't broken."
    She didn't believe him. She leaned forward, instinctively placing her hand on his arm for balance, to see for herself that her ankle was all right. Her face was just inches away from his. She stared at her foot while he stared at her.
    "It looks broken," she whispered.
    "It isn't."
    "Must you sound so cheerful? I would have your sympathy over this unfortunate tragic mishap," she said.
    "This'tragic mishap' wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been trying to—"
    She interrupted him. "I was trying to gain a few minutes privacy to take care of a rather personal matter."
    She looked right at him when she told that lie. It was a mistake, for only then did she discover how very close to him she was.
    Their gazes held for the longest while. Neither said a word. Nicholaa couldn't seem to catch her breath.
    Royce couldn't either. He didn't know what to make of his reaction to her. The urge to touch her was overwhelming. He couldn't stop himself from gently brushing her hair back away from her face. His fingers gently touched her cheek.
    Nicholaa was comforted by the caress. The feeling didn't last long, though, for he was suddenly scowling at her. Her eyes widened. His hand gripped her chin, and he forced her head to one side, towards the moonlight. Then he pushed her hair farther away from her eye with his other hand.
    "How did you get this bruise?" he demanded. His voice was rough, angry.
    She shrugged.
    He squeezed her chin. "Answer me. This couldn't have just happened, Nicholaa. The mark is too dark."
    His frown intensified. "But it wasn't there this afternoon. I would have noticed."
    "It was too there this afternoon," she told him. "It just wasn't as noticeable. Why are you so angry? It's my bruise, not yours."
    He ignored that remark. "How did it happen?"
    "It's not your concern."
    She pushed his hand away and pulled back. The stubborn man followed her. He nudged her chin back up with the crook of his fingers.
    "I'm weary of your stubbornness, woman."
    "As weary as I am of your constant orders?"
    She thought that was a rather cunning reply. She was giving back as much as she was getting, she thought. Besides, the Norman needed to know he wasn't dealing with a timid, frightened adversary. He wasn't going to intimidate her. He'd better not turn his back on her, either, for if she had a dagger, she'd plunge the blade deep between his shoulder blades.
    God save her, she was lying to herself now. She couldn't kill him. And in the corner of her mind, she thought he might know that.
    She let out a frustrated sigh. She noticed a lock of hair had fallen forward to rest on his forehead. Before she could think about what she was doing, she reached up and brushed the hair back where it belonged.
    He acted as though she'd just smacked him. He jerked back, looking incredulous. She was so embarrassed by his reaction that she turned her gaze away.
    It took him a moment to recover from her bold action. His voice was gruff when he said, "Every mark on your body is my concern, Nicholaa. I'm responsible for you. Now tell me how you came by this injury."
    "You'll get surly if I do."
    "How do you know that?"
    "I've been watching you," she answered. "It's important for one enemy to know how the other's mind works, Baron. I've been studying you closely and am now convinced you have a surly nature."
    He smiled at the authority in her voice. "And what else have you noticed?"
    "You don't like me."
    She