Read Online The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) by Collette Cameron - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Collette Cameron
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doing in here?”
“I excused meself to use the necessary. I couldn’t resist helping meself to a few more of Sorcha’s pasties.”
Adaira hurried to the cabinet. Opening it, she retrieved a half-full bottle of wine. Should she also take another? No, she’d plenty to carry already. As she snapped the cupboard closed, the cork popped off the bottle. The stopper rolled across the floor. “Dash it all! I don’t have time for this.”
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Brayan stopped the cork with his shoe. He swayed the merest bit. “I thought ye might need help carrying supplies to yer prisoner.”
He winked conspiratorially.
“No, Brayan. I only told you I was venturing below so you could cover for me if I’m delayed in returning.”
He set the flask on the sideboard before bending to retrieve the stopper. His kilt tilted dangerously high, revealing whisky-brown hair on his muscled thighs. Adaira quickly averted her gaze, something every Scotswoman was accustomed to doing. She’d seen a goodly number of men’s buttocks over the years, and on several uncomfortable occasions, other manly attributes as well.
She couldn’t, for the life of her, understand their pride in such a peculiar looking appendage. To have to walk about with that thing dangling about, swinging back-and-forth . . .
Well, it had to be most annoying and cumbersome. Especially the larger ones when a man engaged in physical activities like wrestling. Whatever had the Good Lord been thinking?
Thank God she was a woman.
“Here ye be.” Brayan reached for the wine. He pressed the plug firmly into the top before handing her the bottle. He took another long draught of whisky. After replacing the cap, he tucked the flask into his coat.
Adaira speared a worried glance toward the entrance. “Thank you. You’d best hurry back to the others. I’ll return as quickly as I can.”
Once she reached the lower levels, she all but ran the entire way to Marquardt. She’d no doubt her slippers were ruined, but there wasn’t time to change them. She was expected to rejoin her family straightaway.
Just as she reached his cell, one shoe slid off her heel. “Confounded slipper.”
Breathless and hopping awkwardly, she tried to shove her foot in. A difficult task with a bulky sack wedged beneath her other arm and a lantern hanging from her hand.
“You’re late,” Marquardt snapped.
She managed, at last, to tug the silk edge over her heel. She straightened and leveled him with an exasperated glower.
“You needn’t sulk. I came as soon as I was able.” Adaira resisted the urge to yank her bodice higher. His gaze was riveted on her chest, a scowl distorting his handsome face.
She was daft for wearing this dress tonight. She’d known she’d have to venture below the keep. No doubt the cur had enjoyed a generous view of her breasts while she struggled to put on the slipper.
Her nipples puckered.
Confounded, traitorous body .
Her reaction was due to the dungeon’s coolness, not his heated gaze on her flesh. You lie whispered an annoying little voice in her head.
Adaira couldn’t deny he was disturbingly attractive. She knew him to be a scoundrel, yet every time he looked at her, something in his eyes caused a peculiar physical reaction. One she refused to examine. The tingling ache in her breasts and lower, much lower , was most peculiar. She’d no romantic interest in any man, least of all him.
Marquardt reached through the bars. “The candle’s nearly burnt out.”
Adaira glanced beyond him to the table. The stub flickered and sputtered. Gads, but the man went through the tapers. What did he do, burn them at night? Did he never sleep? From his haggard appearance, she’d wager not a whole lot.
A mere foot separated them. She studied him for a long moment. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw giving him a rakish, pirate-like appearance. The mark her crop left had faded to a bruised ribbon. Bluish circles rimmed his eyes.
She’d
“I excused meself to use the necessary. I couldn’t resist helping meself to a few more of Sorcha’s pasties.”
Adaira hurried to the cabinet. Opening it, she retrieved a half-full bottle of wine. Should she also take another? No, she’d plenty to carry already. As she snapped the cupboard closed, the cork popped off the bottle. The stopper rolled across the floor. “Dash it all! I don’t have time for this.”
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Brayan stopped the cork with his shoe. He swayed the merest bit. “I thought ye might need help carrying supplies to yer prisoner.”
He winked conspiratorially.
“No, Brayan. I only told you I was venturing below so you could cover for me if I’m delayed in returning.”
He set the flask on the sideboard before bending to retrieve the stopper. His kilt tilted dangerously high, revealing whisky-brown hair on his muscled thighs. Adaira quickly averted her gaze, something every Scotswoman was accustomed to doing. She’d seen a goodly number of men’s buttocks over the years, and on several uncomfortable occasions, other manly attributes as well.
She couldn’t, for the life of her, understand their pride in such a peculiar looking appendage. To have to walk about with that thing dangling about, swinging back-and-forth . . .
Well, it had to be most annoying and cumbersome. Especially the larger ones when a man engaged in physical activities like wrestling. Whatever had the Good Lord been thinking?
Thank God she was a woman.
“Here ye be.” Brayan reached for the wine. He pressed the plug firmly into the top before handing her the bottle. He took another long draught of whisky. After replacing the cap, he tucked the flask into his coat.
Adaira speared a worried glance toward the entrance. “Thank you. You’d best hurry back to the others. I’ll return as quickly as I can.”
Once she reached the lower levels, she all but ran the entire way to Marquardt. She’d no doubt her slippers were ruined, but there wasn’t time to change them. She was expected to rejoin her family straightaway.
Just as she reached his cell, one shoe slid off her heel. “Confounded slipper.”
Breathless and hopping awkwardly, she tried to shove her foot in. A difficult task with a bulky sack wedged beneath her other arm and a lantern hanging from her hand.
“You’re late,” Marquardt snapped.
She managed, at last, to tug the silk edge over her heel. She straightened and leveled him with an exasperated glower.
“You needn’t sulk. I came as soon as I was able.” Adaira resisted the urge to yank her bodice higher. His gaze was riveted on her chest, a scowl distorting his handsome face.
She was daft for wearing this dress tonight. She’d known she’d have to venture below the keep. No doubt the cur had enjoyed a generous view of her breasts while she struggled to put on the slipper.
Her nipples puckered.
Confounded, traitorous body .
Her reaction was due to the dungeon’s coolness, not his heated gaze on her flesh. You lie whispered an annoying little voice in her head.
Adaira couldn’t deny he was disturbingly attractive. She knew him to be a scoundrel, yet every time he looked at her, something in his eyes caused a peculiar physical reaction. One she refused to examine. The tingling ache in her breasts and lower, much lower , was most peculiar. She’d no romantic interest in any man, least of all him.
Marquardt reached through the bars. “The candle’s nearly burnt out.”
Adaira glanced beyond him to the table. The stub flickered and sputtered. Gads, but the man went through the tapers. What did he do, burn them at night? Did he never sleep? From his haggard appearance, she’d wager not a whole lot.
A mere foot separated them. She studied him for a long moment. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw giving him a rakish, pirate-like appearance. The mark her crop left had faded to a bruised ribbon. Bluish circles rimmed his eyes.
She’d
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