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Authors: Mysty McPartland
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happened.
Chapter Four
Grrr, the miserable cur made her boiling mad. She watched him hurry away through narrowed eyes. Her jaw clenched when she heard the bellowing laughter and knew the blasted mongrel was laughing at her. When his amusement finally ended, she flopped back against the pillows and scowled. She hoped she had been dreaming but had a feeling she hadn’t been. It was degrading to know that she had been half asleep wrapped all around him like a vine. Heat seared her cheeks as she remembered rubbing herself against his hot, hard naked flesh like a sleepy cat wanting a petting from her master. Ugh, really, she hoped it wouldn’t be true, but the knowing glint in his eyes when he first came into the chamber told her it was. She was positive he was enjoying her humiliation and she could kick him in the backside for that alone.
She heard the maids enter the other chamber, re-lighting the fire and filling the tub. She didn’t dare go out there. She held her breath until she heard the sound of the door closing behind them. It galled her that he had squashed her plan, not that she had been thrilled over the idea in the first place. However, she thought that if she didn’t bathe and stunk as bad as everyone else, he would be disgusted and might have changed his mind about marrying her. Well, you foolish woman, it hadn’t. She was beginning to doubt that anything would stop the wedding, and she still didn’t know what she was going to do. Hearing the noise increasing downstairs, she groaned. If she didn’t want the infernal oaf coming upstairs to bathe her, she better hurry.
Angrily tossing the covers aside, she slipped off the mattress and hurried into the other chamber. Seeing the tub of steaming water, she eagerly removed the few articles of clothing he hadn’t stripped off her last night. “Damned pig,” she mumbled as she sunk beneath the water and sighed in pleasure. She soaked for a few minutes before she scrubbed herself clean. When she finished, she washed her hair and rinsed it with a clean bucket of warm water. Knowing she didn’t dare linger, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a large fluffy cloth and used another one to rub at her wet hair. She knelt before the fire, trying to dry it faster. Being so thick and long, it was taking some time, and in the end, she gave up. She rose to her feet and scowled.
What in tarnation was she going to wear? She shuddered at the thought of putting on the gown she’d been wearing for days. Grousing, she spied the trunks and hurried over to them. She lifted six lids and went through the contents. All that was acceptable was one of his many shirts and his plaid. Teeth clamped tight, she donned the oversized shirt, having to roll up the sleeve several times. She wrapped a skirt out of the plaid, and finding one of the bindings the filthy cur had tied her up with last eve, used it as a belt. Searching for his brush, she found it in the bedchamber and pulled it through her damp locks. She used another binding to tie it back. Slipping her feet into slippers, she left the room.
Under her breath, she was calling the smelly lout every insult she could think of as she stomped down the staircase. When she reached the bottom, she found him seated at the table watching her. Thrusting her chin in the air, she marched over to him and was surprised to see him rise to his feet. She made a huffing sound and took her seat, but from out the corner of her eye, saw that he taken his own. “I hope there’s something decent to eat.”
“Aye, porridge and scones. Ye look bonny in my plaid and shirt, lass.” He grinned at the fulminating glare she sent him.
“Ye blockhead, I had nae choice.” She grumbled before she turned to the maid and thanked her for her meal.
“Never fear, sweeting. I have already got the women sewing some gowns for ye plus yer wedding finery. Perhaps a few of the dresses will be
Chapter Four
Grrr, the miserable cur made her boiling mad. She watched him hurry away through narrowed eyes. Her jaw clenched when she heard the bellowing laughter and knew the blasted mongrel was laughing at her. When his amusement finally ended, she flopped back against the pillows and scowled. She hoped she had been dreaming but had a feeling she hadn’t been. It was degrading to know that she had been half asleep wrapped all around him like a vine. Heat seared her cheeks as she remembered rubbing herself against his hot, hard naked flesh like a sleepy cat wanting a petting from her master. Ugh, really, she hoped it wouldn’t be true, but the knowing glint in his eyes when he first came into the chamber told her it was. She was positive he was enjoying her humiliation and she could kick him in the backside for that alone.
She heard the maids enter the other chamber, re-lighting the fire and filling the tub. She didn’t dare go out there. She held her breath until she heard the sound of the door closing behind them. It galled her that he had squashed her plan, not that she had been thrilled over the idea in the first place. However, she thought that if she didn’t bathe and stunk as bad as everyone else, he would be disgusted and might have changed his mind about marrying her. Well, you foolish woman, it hadn’t. She was beginning to doubt that anything would stop the wedding, and she still didn’t know what she was going to do. Hearing the noise increasing downstairs, she groaned. If she didn’t want the infernal oaf coming upstairs to bathe her, she better hurry.
Angrily tossing the covers aside, she slipped off the mattress and hurried into the other chamber. Seeing the tub of steaming water, she eagerly removed the few articles of clothing he hadn’t stripped off her last night. “Damned pig,” she mumbled as she sunk beneath the water and sighed in pleasure. She soaked for a few minutes before she scrubbed herself clean. When she finished, she washed her hair and rinsed it with a clean bucket of warm water. Knowing she didn’t dare linger, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a large fluffy cloth and used another one to rub at her wet hair. She knelt before the fire, trying to dry it faster. Being so thick and long, it was taking some time, and in the end, she gave up. She rose to her feet and scowled.
What in tarnation was she going to wear? She shuddered at the thought of putting on the gown she’d been wearing for days. Grousing, she spied the trunks and hurried over to them. She lifted six lids and went through the contents. All that was acceptable was one of his many shirts and his plaid. Teeth clamped tight, she donned the oversized shirt, having to roll up the sleeve several times. She wrapped a skirt out of the plaid, and finding one of the bindings the filthy cur had tied her up with last eve, used it as a belt. Searching for his brush, she found it in the bedchamber and pulled it through her damp locks. She used another binding to tie it back. Slipping her feet into slippers, she left the room.
Under her breath, she was calling the smelly lout every insult she could think of as she stomped down the staircase. When she reached the bottom, she found him seated at the table watching her. Thrusting her chin in the air, she marched over to him and was surprised to see him rise to his feet. She made a huffing sound and took her seat, but from out the corner of her eye, saw that he taken his own. “I hope there’s something decent to eat.”
“Aye, porridge and scones. Ye look bonny in my plaid and shirt, lass.” He grinned at the fulminating glare she sent him.
“Ye blockhead, I had nae choice.” She grumbled before she turned to the maid and thanked her for her meal.
“Never fear, sweeting. I have already got the women sewing some gowns for ye plus yer wedding finery. Perhaps a few of the dresses will be