Lord of Hawkfell Island by Catherine Coulter

We’d be too weak to punish them. Think you they’ll try to poison us in their anger?”
    Rorik shook his head. “I will inform Old Alna that tonight we wish to have boar steaks.”
    Four widgeons flew over. Kerzog wuffed at them, then sprawled down, his head resting on his front paws.
    One of the men noticed Mirana. He nodded to Rorik, who turned around very slowly.
    He took one step toward her then stopped. “Who unchained you? What do you want?”
    He sounded mildly annoyed, as if she were naught but a dog who’d chanced to come upon him at a time that wasn’t convenient to him. No, he would have been delighted had it been Kerzog that came to him. No, he viewed her as less than his damned dog. Her chin went up and she said sharply, in a voice filled with unconscious arrogance, “Come here, Rorik. I would speak to you now.”
    He stiffened as straight as an oak tree. He was still furious at the women for their duplicity, still smarting from his feelings of outrage that they would dare do such a thing to him and to his men. “You dare? You will show me proper respect. You will say, woman, ‘I wish to speak to you, my lord’ or ‘If it pleases you, my lord, I beg a moment of your time.’ ”
    She just stared at him. It was true; she hadn’t sounded at all conciliating, at all willing to compromise with him.
    â€œIt is my title. Say it. Change it, if you wish, to your own words, but you will show me respect and obeisance. Now, say my title.”
    She shook her head. “You aren’t my lord. You aren’t my master. You’re the enemy, nothing more. Ah, I forget. You’re also a vicious monster who threatens women who nurture you and care for you and feed you and—”
    â€œFeed, ha! I counted my ribs this morning. I was starving last night, you saw it. No more of it, so I have told them and so it will be if they dare to disobey me again. Now, Mirana, say my title. Address me as your Lord Rorik. Be quick about it for I grow weary with the taming of you.”
    The moment he shut his mouth, Rorik realized he’d gotten himself in a situation that wouldn’t win him a thing. He’d given her an order in front of his men. Had he given it any thought at all, he would have known that she’d stand stubborn as a mule before paying him any homage. Still, he couldn’t let it stand. Not in front of his men. By Thor’s hammer, he’d ordered her to say it. He could still hear the damnable arrogance in her voice, ordering him to come to her. It galled him to his toes. In addition, she’d sided with the women, calling him a vicious monster, when all he’d done was bring it to an end.
    He said slowly, as if to a witless child, “I am your lord and your master and your enemy—all of those things. Right now, I am your lord. Say it.”
    She turned on her heel and walked away. She heard one of the men suck in his breath and say, “Lord Rorik won’t let that pass. He can’t.”
    â€œAye, I pray he won’t kill her.”
    Kerzog wuffed softly but didn’t move.
    She wasn’t at all surprised when she felt his hand close over her upper arm and jerk her to a stop. He whirled her around to face him with such force that she would have fallen had he not held her upright.
    He said low, “Listen to me, Mirana. You will obey every order I choose to give you, just as will every other damned woman on Hawkfell Island. I am the lord and master here. You will temper your voice and the words that come from your mouth. You will treat me as you would a god. You must, there is no choice. My men have excellent hearing and I am their leader. Do you understand me?”
    She shook her head.
    He took both her arms in his big hands and shook her hard, snapping her head back in her neck.
    He leaned down, his breath warm on her cheek and said low, just for her ears, “Don’t force me to whip you in