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Authors: Hannah Howell
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purred, yanking her into his arms as he had wanted to for days.
At first Storm was so surprised that she was still in his arms. It was when his warm, soft lips began to stir a heat within her that she came to life. She quickly found that it was not easy to fight a man's hold while sitting down. Despite the fact that fury, a fury increased by the audible amusement of the others at the table, gave her added strength, Storm also discovered that trying to fight Tavis was akin to beating her head against a wall. Although being kissed before an audience was not at all to her liking, most of her fight came from a fright of the response her body was showing. She knew a surge of white-hot rage when he released her and grinned at her. It blinded her to the fact that he was clearly moved by the kiss.
The blaze in her amber eyes fascinated Tavis almost as much as the kiss had pleasured him. He did not think he had ever seen a woman look so gloriously angry. It disappointed him somewhat when, in a typical outraged-maiden tactic, she moved to slap his face. He easily caught her wrist, but then suddenly felt a surprisingly strong little fist connect with his jaw, catching him unawares and sending him off the bench to sprawl on the floor. Tavis was caught up in a mixture of anger and amusement. The snickers he could hear his family and the men indulging in mattered little to him. He was too interested in Storm.
"I forgot what a wee scrapper ye are, but now ye ken why ye'll stay here," he said, watching as she left her seat to stand and glare at him, her lovely hands planted firmly on her slim hips.
"Oh, I understand. Slow to grasp your intentions I may have been, but 'tis clear as a bell now. Ye are no better than that slimy toad Sir Hugh."
"An I was, lass, ye'd be well used by now," he snarled as he stood up to tower over her, his temper having gained the upper hand when she compared him to the Englishman.
"Used mayhaps," she sneered, "but 'tis a question as to whether it be well or nay."
Colin briefly thought of putting a halt to the swiftly worsening argument, but only briefly. The couple had squared off before and he found it far too entertaining to end. If the subject was not exactly genteel, it was of little consequence, for all there knew what Tavis had planned for the girl. It was simply a question of when he would take it and how hard he would have to work for it. Tavis never having suffered a problem with the women, it was of interest to them all to see him meet resistance.
Grasping her by the wrists, Tavis growled, "Weel, mayhaps we should go and see how weel I use ye."
Storm could not hit him as she wanted to, but she was not totally disarmed. She gave him a kick in the shins and he yelped gratifyingly. It was hardly the way to ingratiate herself to the man who held her fate in his hands, but she was too furious to think on that. Since the day she had become a woman she had suffered from men's unwanted advances, her status as only daughter to a powerful border lord not serving as all that much protection. Long ago she had given up trying to politely repel such advances.
"Spare me, please. I have just dined." She fruitlessly tried to free her wrists from his grip.
Although Tavis had never been repulsed by any woman he had set his eyes upon, it was not solely her reluctance that stirred his anger. He felt he could understand her reluctance. After all, she was gently born, a woman whose virginity was guarded as well as any castle and was considered as great a prize. Any man who wed her would expect her innocence to be intact, and to lose that could mean that her future was irrevocably altered for the worse. His anger stemmed from the fact that he ached for her as he had for no other woman, yet she seemed not to suffer at all from the same malady.
"Then I'll remember to catch ye atween meals," he purred.
She recognized the soft tone that was indicative of his rage but ignored it. "Ye'll catch me not at all, MacLagan, or
At first Storm was so surprised that she was still in his arms. It was when his warm, soft lips began to stir a heat within her that she came to life. She quickly found that it was not easy to fight a man's hold while sitting down. Despite the fact that fury, a fury increased by the audible amusement of the others at the table, gave her added strength, Storm also discovered that trying to fight Tavis was akin to beating her head against a wall. Although being kissed before an audience was not at all to her liking, most of her fight came from a fright of the response her body was showing. She knew a surge of white-hot rage when he released her and grinned at her. It blinded her to the fact that he was clearly moved by the kiss.
The blaze in her amber eyes fascinated Tavis almost as much as the kiss had pleasured him. He did not think he had ever seen a woman look so gloriously angry. It disappointed him somewhat when, in a typical outraged-maiden tactic, she moved to slap his face. He easily caught her wrist, but then suddenly felt a surprisingly strong little fist connect with his jaw, catching him unawares and sending him off the bench to sprawl on the floor. Tavis was caught up in a mixture of anger and amusement. The snickers he could hear his family and the men indulging in mattered little to him. He was too interested in Storm.
"I forgot what a wee scrapper ye are, but now ye ken why ye'll stay here," he said, watching as she left her seat to stand and glare at him, her lovely hands planted firmly on her slim hips.
"Oh, I understand. Slow to grasp your intentions I may have been, but 'tis clear as a bell now. Ye are no better than that slimy toad Sir Hugh."
"An I was, lass, ye'd be well used by now," he snarled as he stood up to tower over her, his temper having gained the upper hand when she compared him to the Englishman.
"Used mayhaps," she sneered, "but 'tis a question as to whether it be well or nay."
Colin briefly thought of putting a halt to the swiftly worsening argument, but only briefly. The couple had squared off before and he found it far too entertaining to end. If the subject was not exactly genteel, it was of little consequence, for all there knew what Tavis had planned for the girl. It was simply a question of when he would take it and how hard he would have to work for it. Tavis never having suffered a problem with the women, it was of interest to them all to see him meet resistance.
Grasping her by the wrists, Tavis growled, "Weel, mayhaps we should go and see how weel I use ye."
Storm could not hit him as she wanted to, but she was not totally disarmed. She gave him a kick in the shins and he yelped gratifyingly. It was hardly the way to ingratiate herself to the man who held her fate in his hands, but she was too furious to think on that. Since the day she had become a woman she had suffered from men's unwanted advances, her status as only daughter to a powerful border lord not serving as all that much protection. Long ago she had given up trying to politely repel such advances.
"Spare me, please. I have just dined." She fruitlessly tried to free her wrists from his grip.
Although Tavis had never been repulsed by any woman he had set his eyes upon, it was not solely her reluctance that stirred his anger. He felt he could understand her reluctance. After all, she was gently born, a woman whose virginity was guarded as well as any castle and was considered as great a prize. Any man who wed her would expect her innocence to be intact, and to lose that could mean that her future was irrevocably altered for the worse. His anger stemmed from the fact that he ached for her as he had for no other woman, yet she seemed not to suffer at all from the same malady.
"Then I'll remember to catch ye atween meals," he purred.
She recognized the soft tone that was indicative of his rage but ignored it. "Ye'll catch me not at all, MacLagan, or
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