Betrayed by Claire Robyns Page B

a blank look. “Yer concern fer my comfort is touching, but I assure ye, this floor is luxury compared ta some places I’ve laid down fer the night.”
    “I don’t care about your comfort, you black-hearted oaf.” She uncurled her fingers to rise to her feet. “There’s no door between the rooms. How do you expect me to sleep when I know you’re…when you can…?” Her cheeks reddened as she struggled for the relevant words.
    “Go ta bed, Amber. I’ve had a tiresome day and now have urgent matters ta attend.” He was none too gentle as he prodded her into the adjacent chamber, but he did take care with her injured ankle.
    On his way out, he stopped beneath the archway to reassure her. To reassure himself. “Ye have naught ta fear. There’s little ta tempt me in here that I canna get elsewhere.”
     
    Krayne found the steward’s daughter folding sheets in the curtained alcove between the great hall and kitchens that served as a linen room.
    “Come ta me,” he growled, grabbing the slender beauty around the waist. Her sharp gasp released as a warm sigh when he turned her about in his arms and she saw her attacker.
    “Krayne.” She jabbed a finger at his chest, but the rebuke was no more effective than her next words, for the hunger in her fawn eyes told another story. “Dinna think ta jump me whene’er the fancy takes.”
    He caught her finger and put it to his lips. “Ah, Gayle, I see ye’ve missed me.”
    “Arrogant bastard.”
    He chuckled, then sucked her finger with slow, deliberate strokes as he watched her pupils dilate and her lips part on a whimper.
    Mungo’s daughter was a young widow of six and twenty, and they’d enjoyed each other for two years now. He knew exactly how to arouse her body to match his every mood, and right now he wanted fast and hot. He felt scant guilt that he saw a raven-haired vixen in transparent white when he closed his eyes. Gayle would not take offence. They’d both agreed that there was nothing more between them than the occasional dalliance.

Chapter 4
    One might almost think yer hoping ta convince yerself.
    Amber came awake with a groan as her dream bled into reality. She was lying on her stomach, her arms hugging a feather pillow. The details were fading fast, but she held on to the flashes of heated skin, tender caresses and intoxicating kisses for as long as she could.
    Lord, it seemed so real. She’d spent the night in his arms. Willingly. That savage beauty cut from lines as harsh and unforgiving as the deepest winter had proved too much in the end. The woodsy scent, overwhelming masculinity, intelligent eyes that glinted more wicked than cruel. She didn’t know Krayne, was pretty sure she neither liked nor trusted him, yet her body wanted, demanded and had finally, in sleep, taken.
    There’s little ta tempt me in here that I canna get elsewhere.
    She was instantly wide-awake, pushing up onto her elbows. “Bastard.”
    But it wasn’t Krayne she was furious at.
    She brought her fists down on the pillow, pounding into the feather stuffing as she recalled every accusation she’d flung last night. How many times had she denied him? Protested her virtue?
    As if he burned with lust. As if he couldn’t keep his hands and mind off her.
    What a laugh.
    Krayne had walked off easily enough, while she’d hunted him down in her dreams and clung all night long. No man had ever affected her thus, and she cursed Krayne for being the first.
    “Life isn’t fair.” Krayne had more advantages than he knew what to do with, and now he had this too. “It just isn’t fair.”
    “Should I come back later,” rumbled an amused voice, “or are ye almost done with that fit of temper?”
    Amber’s fists froze. A dull flush crept up her throat as she met the gaze of the man himself, leaning against the wall with folded arms. His britches were black, the supple leather moulded to potent thighs. The white cotton shirt was a stark contrast, open halfway down his chest to