Read Online Household by Florence Stevenson - Free Book Online Page A

bloodshot and tears stood in them again.
    His annoyance increased. The girl was so frightened, it would be a Herculean task to calm her down. He said soothingly, “Certainly, if that is what you wish, my dear.”
    “What I wish?” she repeated incredulously. “Why would I not wish it?”
    “Softly, softly,” he murmured, wishing she were not wearing that damned headdress. He would have liked to stroke her hair, but perhaps it was better not to make an overture yet. “Let me undo those knots,” he said.
    They were more difficult to untie than he had believed; it took some little time before he could loosen them. As he struggled with the cord, his anger against Sir Francis mounted even higher. Why had he been so hard on the poor girl? Finally, the knots yielded, and he pulled the cords away. “There,” he said triumphantly.
    “Oh, I do thank you,” she whispered.
    He caught her hands, holding them gently. “Let me rub your wrists and bring the circulation back.”
    “No.” She tried to pull away.
    “Come, you needn’t be afraid of me,” he murmured. “I’d not harm you, believe me.” Taking her right hand, he pressed a kiss against the palm only to have her utter an outraged squeak and pull it back, slapping him smartly across the face with her other hand. Evidently, forgetting that her feet were still bound, she started up from the bed only to fall heavily upon the floor.
    Richard knelt by her sidle. “Catlin...”
    “Keep away from me!” she cried. “How dare you touch me in such a way? Oh, may the Blessed Mother protect me, for sure I’ve fallen amongst thieves and ravishers.”
    He had been on the verge of anger at the untoward response of this little whore. However, on hearing her wild words, his mood changed to one of amusement. She was a clever bit o’muslin, staging a tragedy for him, by way of punishing him and at the same time doing her best to increase her worth in his eyes. While he did admire her acting ability, he was weary of waiting for her promised favors.
    “Come, my dear,” he said impatiently. “I am sorry for the way you were brought here, but your servant cheated me, as you well know, and ’twas only right I should retaliate. Still, I bear you no ill will for my tumble in the muck and should have pursued you in the proper way had I not been informed that you were off to Ireland in the morning. I promise you that now we’re together, I’ll be kind to you and, as for ravishing you, I should like to know how one may steal what has already been lost?”
    “Lost?” she cried furiously. “You are speaking about my... my...”
    “Maidenhead, my darling. And may I compliment you upon your dramatics. I vow they’re worthy of a Clive or a Prichard.”
    “Dramatics?” She regarded him with a mixture of anger and fright. “I am not acting. I am a virgin, and but for you, I’d have been in Ireland with my brother, who is... is the O’Neill—Mahon O’Neill, Lord of Munster, descended from the Kings of Ireland!”
    “Better and better,” Richard approved, smiting his hands together in teasing applause. “And are not all the Irish descended from such dubious royalty?”
    “You may laugh, curse you!” she cried. “But ’tis the truth. I am Lady Catlin O’Neill and...”
    “And what is such an exalted personage doing upon our humble English boards?” Richard demanded between chuckles which were, if the truth be told, becoming rather forced. Judging from his recollections of her in The Lover’s Stratagem , she had been lovely, charming and beautiful to look upon, but he could have sworn she had not the ability to simulate such sincerity as she was now displaying.
    Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Her whole body was wracked by sobs which certainly seemed genuine as she moaned, “My brother lost heavily at... at the tables and I... I thought I might earn the money to stake him again. And I... I did and he won back the whole of what we’d lost and more. And today I’d