The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss Page B
Authors: Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Sagas, Love Stories, London (England) - Social Life and Customs - 19th Century
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his hands upon her, the memory of his smothering kisses. Everything. Every tiniest bit of evidence that she had been his.
The cool water helped a little to revive her downtrodden spirits, and she donned her shabby shift and pink gown, feeling a trifle better. She raked her fingers through her hair, combing it as best she could in that manner, then returned his robe to the locker, noting as she did so the well chosen and obviously costly clothes within. It was irritating to think that she couldn't secretly laugh at his choice of apparel.
Her nerves stretched taut with her toilette complete, and needing some task to occupy her thoughts, she began putting some order to the cabin, which was littered with clothing. His were thrown over the back of a chair, her beige gown in another. The torn chemise was still where he had dropped it after ripping it from her. She picked it up and found it irreparable.
His hands destroy well, she mused.
With renewed anger she marched to the bunk and began smoothing the sheets until her eyes fell on the blood that stained them, and she realized it was her blood, her proof of virginity. In a high rage, she jerked the sheets from the bed and threw them to the floor.
Her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed, she whirled around at a soft laugh from behind her and faced Brandon who stood in the open doorway. He had returned silently and without her knowing. His eyes dropped from her angry face to the sheets behind her, then he raised his eyes again as he closed the door and leaned against it. He smiled at her mockingly, and with an infuriated groan, Heather turned her back. She heard him laugh. He was laughing at her and she hated him. He was detestable.
He came up close behind her, slipped his arms about her waist and drew her back against him.
"Do you think you could have remained chaste for long with the face and body you have, my sweet?" he murmured against her hair. "You were meant for love, and I am not saddened because I snatched you before other men tried you, nor do I feel guilty over the pleasure you've given me. Pray do not blame me for being infatuated with your beauty and wanting you for my own. It would be a task for any man not to. You see, in truth, m'lady, I am your prisoner, caught in your spell."
She trembled as his searing lips pressed against her throat and beneath her breasts her heart thumped wildly.
"Are you void of a conscience?" she choked. "Doesn't it matter that I do not wish to be here? I am not one of your strumpets, nor do I have any desire to be."
"You do not wish it now, my love, but later you will. If I allowed you to go now I'd never see you again because of what has passed between us. If we had met differently, I could have courted you gently and wooed you into my bed with tender words. But here we started backwards and frightened you and as a bird flees from its captor, so would you fly from me. To keep you I must show you that it is not so bad being my mistress. You'll have everything your heart desires."
"I have heard tales of Yankees," she said snidely, "but I never guessed that all those aspersions could be true until I met you."
He threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Spoken like a true Englishwoman, m'lady."
She jerked angrily away and faced him. "Just tell me why you want me?" she demanded. She threw her arms wide. "Heaven above, tell me why I must suffer your affections when you can find many a maid more willing than I anywhere you should happen to look! Wouldn't your romps in bed be more entertaining with a woman who appreciates your advances than with one who loathes the very sight of you?"
He chuckled at her anger. "You have a sharp tongue, m'lady. You wound me to the quick. But the reasons are quite simple. Take a look at yourself and you'll see a very excellent one. You're like a breath of fresh spring air after a night in an overcrowded tavern."
He took a seat at his desk,
The cool water helped a little to revive her downtrodden spirits, and she donned her shabby shift and pink gown, feeling a trifle better. She raked her fingers through her hair, combing it as best she could in that manner, then returned his robe to the locker, noting as she did so the well chosen and obviously costly clothes within. It was irritating to think that she couldn't secretly laugh at his choice of apparel.
Her nerves stretched taut with her toilette complete, and needing some task to occupy her thoughts, she began putting some order to the cabin, which was littered with clothing. His were thrown over the back of a chair, her beige gown in another. The torn chemise was still where he had dropped it after ripping it from her. She picked it up and found it irreparable.
His hands destroy well, she mused.
With renewed anger she marched to the bunk and began smoothing the sheets until her eyes fell on the blood that stained them, and she realized it was her blood, her proof of virginity. In a high rage, she jerked the sheets from the bed and threw them to the floor.
Her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed, she whirled around at a soft laugh from behind her and faced Brandon who stood in the open doorway. He had returned silently and without her knowing. His eyes dropped from her angry face to the sheets behind her, then he raised his eyes again as he closed the door and leaned against it. He smiled at her mockingly, and with an infuriated groan, Heather turned her back. She heard him laugh. He was laughing at her and she hated him. He was detestable.
He came up close behind her, slipped his arms about her waist and drew her back against him.
"Do you think you could have remained chaste for long with the face and body you have, my sweet?" he murmured against her hair. "You were meant for love, and I am not saddened because I snatched you before other men tried you, nor do I feel guilty over the pleasure you've given me. Pray do not blame me for being infatuated with your beauty and wanting you for my own. It would be a task for any man not to. You see, in truth, m'lady, I am your prisoner, caught in your spell."
She trembled as his searing lips pressed against her throat and beneath her breasts her heart thumped wildly.
"Are you void of a conscience?" she choked. "Doesn't it matter that I do not wish to be here? I am not one of your strumpets, nor do I have any desire to be."
"You do not wish it now, my love, but later you will. If I allowed you to go now I'd never see you again because of what has passed between us. If we had met differently, I could have courted you gently and wooed you into my bed with tender words. But here we started backwards and frightened you and as a bird flees from its captor, so would you fly from me. To keep you I must show you that it is not so bad being my mistress. You'll have everything your heart desires."
"I have heard tales of Yankees," she said snidely, "but I never guessed that all those aspersions could be true until I met you."
He threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Spoken like a true Englishwoman, m'lady."
She jerked angrily away and faced him. "Just tell me why you want me?" she demanded. She threw her arms wide. "Heaven above, tell me why I must suffer your affections when you can find many a maid more willing than I anywhere you should happen to look! Wouldn't your romps in bed be more entertaining with a woman who appreciates your advances than with one who loathes the very sight of you?"
He chuckled at her anger. "You have a sharp tongue, m'lady. You wound me to the quick. But the reasons are quite simple. Take a look at yourself and you'll see a very excellent one. You're like a breath of fresh spring air after a night in an overcrowded tavern."
He took a seat at his desk,
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