Read Online The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss - Free Book Online
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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relaxing in the chair as he regarded her.
"I find you very desirable, Heather, truly worth having—a jewel among pebbles. The challenge of winning you excites me. I've never been denied before."
"You should have been," she spat vindictively. "Perhaps then you would have learned to be a gentleman."
His eyes sparkled. "I've found with you, sweet, that when I want you badly enough I can overlook being a gentleman."
She turned her back on him in frustration. There was no talking to the pompous, arrogant scoundrel. He made his own rules to fit his own games. She couldn't think of enough names to do justice to the way she felt about him. All she knew was that she'd leave him and his miserable cabin if it were the last thing she ever did.
A few moments later George entered the cabin, carrying a large tray laden with their morning meal. The servant smiled rather sheepishly at her as he placed the tray upon the table, but she glared at him and presented her back where in turn he looked to his captain, quite confused. A small smile curved Brandon's lips and he nodded to the servant to continue with what he was doing. When the table lay set, Brandon held a chair out for her.
"If you please, Heather," he smiled mockingly. "I can hardly dine while you stand and glower at me. Now sit and be a good girl for a change."
George looked between the two, becoming more perplexed, and hurriedly poured coffee in the mugs. Heather grudgingly took her place and adjusted a napkin irritably over her lap. She sipped the coffee, though she preferred tea, then grimaced at its strong taste and pushed it away from her. Lifting her eyes, she found Brandon watching her with an amused smile.
Nothing was said and she attacked her small steak of beef as if it needed yet to be slaughtered, though in truth it was quite tender. She found it strangely prepared, not boiled nor cut into tiny bits for a stew but simply cooked in its own juices and left still rare. She tried a small piece and found it tasty, but her appetite was far from hearty and she simply picked at it.
George watched her for a moment in indecision, wishing to please but not knowing how. He turned finally to leave, and noticing the sheets upon the floor, went to pick them up. His eyes widened as he saw the stains and he glanced quickly to his captain, who was watching him, then to Heather whose back was turned to him and once more to Brandon who met his look and nodded once to his unasked questions. The servant's eyes widened even more and he hurriedly gathered the sheets in his arms and made a hasty exit.
Brandon regarded Heather's display of temper and casually sliced off a bite of steak.
"I will not tolerate your spiteful mood at my table, Heather," he said calmly, "nor your treating my man unkindly. In his presence you will be a lady."
Fear rose within Heather and every muscle in her body drained of strength, leaving her quivering in her chair. She grew pale and even her small desire for nourishment left her. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed down at them, unable to meet his stare.
Brandon swallowed some of the hot coffee as he continued to study her, this time concentrating on the gown she wore. It was a garment a younger girl might wear and pretty though it was, he didn't care for its girlish lines. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if he had stolen a babe from its cradle. The only thing about it that found favor with him was the snug bodice which pressed her bosom upward, reassuring him that she was no child. But it was hardly the sort of gown he wanted his mistress to wear, and the frayed chemise he had seen on her earlier would have to go. She was too beautiful to wear rags.
The meal at its end, he returned to his desk to work at his ledgers while Heather, not knowing what to do with herself, paced the floor or fidgeted at the window seat and felt like climbing the walls. He left the cabin for a time, long
"I find you very desirable, Heather, truly worth having—a jewel among pebbles. The challenge of winning you excites me. I've never been denied before."
"You should have been," she spat vindictively. "Perhaps then you would have learned to be a gentleman."
His eyes sparkled. "I've found with you, sweet, that when I want you badly enough I can overlook being a gentleman."
She turned her back on him in frustration. There was no talking to the pompous, arrogant scoundrel. He made his own rules to fit his own games. She couldn't think of enough names to do justice to the way she felt about him. All she knew was that she'd leave him and his miserable cabin if it were the last thing she ever did.
A few moments later George entered the cabin, carrying a large tray laden with their morning meal. The servant smiled rather sheepishly at her as he placed the tray upon the table, but she glared at him and presented her back where in turn he looked to his captain, quite confused. A small smile curved Brandon's lips and he nodded to the servant to continue with what he was doing. When the table lay set, Brandon held a chair out for her.
"If you please, Heather," he smiled mockingly. "I can hardly dine while you stand and glower at me. Now sit and be a good girl for a change."
George looked between the two, becoming more perplexed, and hurriedly poured coffee in the mugs. Heather grudgingly took her place and adjusted a napkin irritably over her lap. She sipped the coffee, though she preferred tea, then grimaced at its strong taste and pushed it away from her. Lifting her eyes, she found Brandon watching her with an amused smile.
Nothing was said and she attacked her small steak of beef as if it needed yet to be slaughtered, though in truth it was quite tender. She found it strangely prepared, not boiled nor cut into tiny bits for a stew but simply cooked in its own juices and left still rare. She tried a small piece and found it tasty, but her appetite was far from hearty and she simply picked at it.
George watched her for a moment in indecision, wishing to please but not knowing how. He turned finally to leave, and noticing the sheets upon the floor, went to pick them up. His eyes widened as he saw the stains and he glanced quickly to his captain, who was watching him, then to Heather whose back was turned to him and once more to Brandon who met his look and nodded once to his unasked questions. The servant's eyes widened even more and he hurriedly gathered the sheets in his arms and made a hasty exit.
Brandon regarded Heather's display of temper and casually sliced off a bite of steak.
"I will not tolerate your spiteful mood at my table, Heather," he said calmly, "nor your treating my man unkindly. In his presence you will be a lady."
Fear rose within Heather and every muscle in her body drained of strength, leaving her quivering in her chair. She grew pale and even her small desire for nourishment left her. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed down at them, unable to meet his stare.
Brandon swallowed some of the hot coffee as he continued to study her, this time concentrating on the gown she wore. It was a garment a younger girl might wear and pretty though it was, he didn't care for its girlish lines. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if he had stolen a babe from its cradle. The only thing about it that found favor with him was the snug bodice which pressed her bosom upward, reassuring him that she was no child. But it was hardly the sort of gown he wanted his mistress to wear, and the frayed chemise he had seen on her earlier would have to go. She was too beautiful to wear rags.
The meal at its end, he returned to his desk to work at his ledgers while Heather, not knowing what to do with herself, paced the floor or fidgeted at the window seat and felt like climbing the walls. He left the cabin for a time, long
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