Read Online Bride of the Beast by Sue-Ellen Welfonder - Free Book Online
Authors: Sue-Ellen Welfonder
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hammering in her breast. His nearness, and the sheer male power he exuded, wove a spell around her, consuming her very senses so fully she required all her strength to wrench her gaze from his.
Turning her attention to the injured knight, she lowered herself to the ground beside him ... and forced a quiet calm she didn't feel. She reached for his hand, banishing the cold from his fingers with the warmth of her palms.
"Noble sir," she breathed, wishing he wasn't staring at her. She needed to take her mind off his disturbing English self and the curious way he unsettled her.
"Noble sir," she began again, focusing her attention on the pale-faced young knight, "would that Dunlaidir yet housed a full garrison. I would command them to scour the land and demand reparation for the ill-done welcome you've received to my home."
As she'd hoped, Lachlan pushed to sit up straighter and color began seeping back into his face. "Think nothing of it, my lady," he said, the strength in his voice pleasing her. "I have seen worse blood-letting."
He slid a sidelong glance at the Sassunach. "Before we return to Kintail, we will raise men and means enough to spare you future embroilments with such rabble as we saw this morn."
"And I t hank you for your chivalry." Caterine smoothed the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead. "Your valor shall be long remembered."
He cleared his throat. "'Tis full kind of you to have come, lady, but we must see Sir Lachlan inside now."
The rich timbre of his deep voice wooed her, deftly banishing the morning's terrors and wrapping her in golden warmtii... until her ears discerned the faint coloration of his birth-land.
And hearing it soundly routed the breathless wonder whirling inside her ever since she'd spied his broad-shouldered self, unscathed and whole.
All male and glorious.
"We'll need wide strips of clean linen," he was saying, his voice irritating her now. Its Englishness offending her. "The most potent wine in your stores, valerian if you ha—"
"I ken what we'll need." She glanced sharply at him, appalled by her snippy tone, but unable to keep the edge from her tongue. "I've run this household and others for many a year."
Something inscrutable crossed his face but vanished in the time it took her to blink. She peered at him, trying to decipher the fleeting expression but he'd schooled his features into an unreadable mask.
No emotion showed at all save the concern for his friend reflecting in the brown depths of his good eye.
To her horror, though, other eyes stared at her over his shoulder.
Leering eyes.
Lust-filled English eyes and pawing hands.
Brutal hands tearing at her gown, ripping to shreds more than the linen of her kirtle and the tender flesh between her thighs.
She saw not the man who'd come to champion her, but many men. Barbarous marauders who'd not just defiled her body, but had crushed her soul.
And slain her first husband before her very eyes.
Blessedly, a barely audible wince and a slight tremor in Lachlan 's cold hand vanquished her secret foes. "Who did this?" she asked, looking across him to Eoghann.
"A seditious Welsh dog named Cadoc," Sir Marmaduke supplied, ignoring the pang of annoyance that she'd asked the seneschal and not him.
"Cadoc?" Her eyes widened.
"Aye, and it cost him dear." Eoghann spat, a fierce scowl darkening his weather-lined face. "He lost his life for want of English coin and the saints know what else was promised him."
"Sir Hugh." Caterine slid a glance at Marmaduke. "He will be in a rage since your arrival," she said, contempt icing her words but not quite biding her fear of a malefactor powerful enough to breach Dunlaidir's walls.
Marmaduke fought back a curse that would've curled Duncan MacKenzie's toes. "No one will gain entry again," he said, pressing another handful of bunched cloth against Lachlan 's side. "Not even in the unsavory manner this blackguard did. I will personally install an iron grid over the latrine chute opening."
She
Turning her attention to the injured knight, she lowered herself to the ground beside him ... and forced a quiet calm she didn't feel. She reached for his hand, banishing the cold from his fingers with the warmth of her palms.
"Noble sir," she breathed, wishing he wasn't staring at her. She needed to take her mind off his disturbing English self and the curious way he unsettled her.
"Noble sir," she began again, focusing her attention on the pale-faced young knight, "would that Dunlaidir yet housed a full garrison. I would command them to scour the land and demand reparation for the ill-done welcome you've received to my home."
As she'd hoped, Lachlan pushed to sit up straighter and color began seeping back into his face. "Think nothing of it, my lady," he said, the strength in his voice pleasing her. "I have seen worse blood-letting."
He slid a sidelong glance at the Sassunach. "Before we return to Kintail, we will raise men and means enough to spare you future embroilments with such rabble as we saw this morn."
"And I t hank you for your chivalry." Caterine smoothed the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead. "Your valor shall be long remembered."
He cleared his throat. "'Tis full kind of you to have come, lady, but we must see Sir Lachlan inside now."
The rich timbre of his deep voice wooed her, deftly banishing the morning's terrors and wrapping her in golden warmtii... until her ears discerned the faint coloration of his birth-land.
And hearing it soundly routed the breathless wonder whirling inside her ever since she'd spied his broad-shouldered self, unscathed and whole.
All male and glorious.
"We'll need wide strips of clean linen," he was saying, his voice irritating her now. Its Englishness offending her. "The most potent wine in your stores, valerian if you ha—"
"I ken what we'll need." She glanced sharply at him, appalled by her snippy tone, but unable to keep the edge from her tongue. "I've run this household and others for many a year."
Something inscrutable crossed his face but vanished in the time it took her to blink. She peered at him, trying to decipher the fleeting expression but he'd schooled his features into an unreadable mask.
No emotion showed at all save the concern for his friend reflecting in the brown depths of his good eye.
To her horror, though, other eyes stared at her over his shoulder.
Leering eyes.
Lust-filled English eyes and pawing hands.
Brutal hands tearing at her gown, ripping to shreds more than the linen of her kirtle and the tender flesh between her thighs.
She saw not the man who'd come to champion her, but many men. Barbarous marauders who'd not just defiled her body, but had crushed her soul.
And slain her first husband before her very eyes.
Blessedly, a barely audible wince and a slight tremor in Lachlan 's cold hand vanquished her secret foes. "Who did this?" she asked, looking across him to Eoghann.
"A seditious Welsh dog named Cadoc," Sir Marmaduke supplied, ignoring the pang of annoyance that she'd asked the seneschal and not him.
"Cadoc?" Her eyes widened.
"Aye, and it cost him dear." Eoghann spat, a fierce scowl darkening his weather-lined face. "He lost his life for want of English coin and the saints know what else was promised him."
"Sir Hugh." Caterine slid a glance at Marmaduke. "He will be in a rage since your arrival," she said, contempt icing her words but not quite biding her fear of a malefactor powerful enough to breach Dunlaidir's walls.
Marmaduke fought back a curse that would've curled Duncan MacKenzie's toes. "No one will gain entry again," he said, pressing another handful of bunched cloth against Lachlan 's side. "Not even in the unsavory manner this blackguard did. I will personally install an iron grid over the latrine chute opening."
She
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