her.
Ellen came back into the room bearing a tray. “Fresh bread new from the oven! Half a broiled rabbit, a honeycomb, and some brown ale.”
Cat found she was hungry.
“Yer all right if ye can eat like that” observed Ellen.
“Only a moonstruck idiot stops eating in a bad situation,” said Cat. “If I’m going to think of a way to escape his high lordship, I’ve got to keep up my strength.”
“Mistress Cat! I dinna know why the earl puts up wi ye except he loves ye!”
“He loves me? Nonsense, Ellie! He thinks he owns me, and it pleases him to show his superiority over me by abusing my body.”
Ellen shrugged. She didn’t understand Catriona when she spoke like that. Taking up the empty tray, she left the room, shaking her head.
Cat began to prowl the room. Until last night it had simply been a place to sleep. Now she looked on it as her prison. It could be entered only by a door from the stairway. There was a small fireplace on the door wall, and to the left was a bank of casement windows. There was one small, round window to the right. It was not a large room, and held only four pieces of furniture—a large canopied and curtained bed opposite the door, a low clothes chest at its foot, a small table on the single-windowed wall, and a chair by the fireplace. A pier glass hung on the bit of wall to the left of the door.
She stood by the windows looking out. From her vantage point she could see part of the valley below, and into the forest that surrounded the house. She saw Patrick coming out of the woods now. He was riding Dearg, and a buck was flung across his saddle. Conall ran to meet him and, taking the buck across his shoulders, went off in the direction of the stables. The earl followed.
Opening the bedroom door, Cat called down to Ellen. “Prepare a tub in the kitchen for the earl, Ellie. He’s just brought in a buck, and he and Conall have gone to butcher it. I’ll nae have him dripping blood all over my bedroom.”
When he entered the bedroom an hour later clad only in a rough towel, she couldn’t help but laugh. He grinned back at her.
“You see, madame. I’ve done as I’ve been told. Come now, and gie me a kiss.”
Shyly she walked to him, and putting her arms about his neck kissed him.
“Jesu, yer sweet,” he muttered, running his big hands over her silk-sheathed body and burying his face for a moment in her neck.
“Please, Patrick,” she whispered.
“Please, Patrick, what?” he demanded thickly. He drew her over in front of the pier glass, and standing behind her gently slid her gown off. His big hands cupped her lovely breasts, and instantly the nipples sprang erect. “Look at yerself, Cat! I hae but to touch ye, and yer hungry for me!”
“No! No!” she protested, closing her eyes tightly.
He laughed softly, and turning her to him began to kiss her throat, her lips, her eyelids, with tiny, soft little kisses. His mouth began to move downward to her breasts. He knelt and, holding her firm but gently by the waist, kissed her shrinking belly, his kisses becoming more intense as they traveled lower. His lips found the tiny mole, and kissed it tenderly. Cat began to weep softly.
“Don’t, sweetheart,” he said gently. “There’s nae shame in being a woman, and enjoying it.”
“Ye knew?”
“Aye,” he said, drawing her down on the floor in front of the cracking fire. “I knew. I’ve made love to enough women in my life to know when one is enjoying it, even when she struggles like a demon, and vows she hates me.”
“I do hate ye,” she insisted.
He chuckled. “Then in the next few weeks I’ll gie ye cause each day to hate me more.” Swiftly he slid between her legs and thrust his aching manhood into her softness. She tried to squirm away. “Nay, hinny! I told ye last night that ye belong to me. And what I hold, my sweet Cat, I keep!”
Chapter 7
T HE spring sped by, and Midsummer Eve came and went. Still the Earl of Glenkirk held his beautiful
Ellen came back into the room bearing a tray. “Fresh bread new from the oven! Half a broiled rabbit, a honeycomb, and some brown ale.”
Cat found she was hungry.
“Yer all right if ye can eat like that” observed Ellen.
“Only a moonstruck idiot stops eating in a bad situation,” said Cat. “If I’m going to think of a way to escape his high lordship, I’ve got to keep up my strength.”
“Mistress Cat! I dinna know why the earl puts up wi ye except he loves ye!”
“He loves me? Nonsense, Ellie! He thinks he owns me, and it pleases him to show his superiority over me by abusing my body.”
Ellen shrugged. She didn’t understand Catriona when she spoke like that. Taking up the empty tray, she left the room, shaking her head.
Cat began to prowl the room. Until last night it had simply been a place to sleep. Now she looked on it as her prison. It could be entered only by a door from the stairway. There was a small fireplace on the door wall, and to the left was a bank of casement windows. There was one small, round window to the right. It was not a large room, and held only four pieces of furniture—a large canopied and curtained bed opposite the door, a low clothes chest at its foot, a small table on the single-windowed wall, and a chair by the fireplace. A pier glass hung on the bit of wall to the left of the door.
She stood by the windows looking out. From her vantage point she could see part of the valley below, and into the forest that surrounded the house. She saw Patrick coming out of the woods now. He was riding Dearg, and a buck was flung across his saddle. Conall ran to meet him and, taking the buck across his shoulders, went off in the direction of the stables. The earl followed.
Opening the bedroom door, Cat called down to Ellen. “Prepare a tub in the kitchen for the earl, Ellie. He’s just brought in a buck, and he and Conall have gone to butcher it. I’ll nae have him dripping blood all over my bedroom.”
When he entered the bedroom an hour later clad only in a rough towel, she couldn’t help but laugh. He grinned back at her.
“You see, madame. I’ve done as I’ve been told. Come now, and gie me a kiss.”
Shyly she walked to him, and putting her arms about his neck kissed him.
“Jesu, yer sweet,” he muttered, running his big hands over her silk-sheathed body and burying his face for a moment in her neck.
“Please, Patrick,” she whispered.
“Please, Patrick, what?” he demanded thickly. He drew her over in front of the pier glass, and standing behind her gently slid her gown off. His big hands cupped her lovely breasts, and instantly the nipples sprang erect. “Look at yerself, Cat! I hae but to touch ye, and yer hungry for me!”
“No! No!” she protested, closing her eyes tightly.
He laughed softly, and turning her to him began to kiss her throat, her lips, her eyelids, with tiny, soft little kisses. His mouth began to move downward to her breasts. He knelt and, holding her firm but gently by the waist, kissed her shrinking belly, his kisses becoming more intense as they traveled lower. His lips found the tiny mole, and kissed it tenderly. Cat began to weep softly.
“Don’t, sweetheart,” he said gently. “There’s nae shame in being a woman, and enjoying it.”
“Ye knew?”
“Aye,” he said, drawing her down on the floor in front of the cracking fire. “I knew. I’ve made love to enough women in my life to know when one is enjoying it, even when she struggles like a demon, and vows she hates me.”
“I do hate ye,” she insisted.
He chuckled. “Then in the next few weeks I’ll gie ye cause each day to hate me more.” Swiftly he slid between her legs and thrust his aching manhood into her softness. She tried to squirm away. “Nay, hinny! I told ye last night that ye belong to me. And what I hold, my sweet Cat, I keep!”
Chapter 7
T HE spring sped by, and Midsummer Eve came and went. Still the Earl of Glenkirk held his beautiful
Similar Books
