fine-boned, the fingers long and well manicured,trembling as she fumbled with the side laces of her gown. The outer garment was loose over her tighter undergown, the scooped neck embroidered with gilt thread that was now frayed. She gave a quick yank, and the tangled side laces parted. As the blue velvet crumpled to a puddle at her feet, her fingers curled into the thinner undergarment. It was made of flimsy stuff, fitting closer to her body. The torn bodice was unraveled, with loose threads of pale blue lying in a linen web against her breast. Without looking up at him, Catherine unfastened the ties that bound it around her, and he glimpsed a silken shift beneath. His mouth twisted. Well-guarded maiden, armored with layers of clothing against masculine intrusion.…
“All of it,” he said gruffly when she hesitated, and her head flung up in an angry shimmer of loose hair.
“Yea, Sir Blackguard, so you have said.”
He watched dispassionately as she twisted out of the undergarment and flung it to the floor atop the velvet. She stood there before him garbed in only the thin silken shift that reached to mid-thigh. He waited until he saw in her widening eyes that she at last understood what he wanted.
“If you think the sight of my shift will move my father to agreement,” she said through stiff lips, “you are much mistaken. Twill only anger him,”
Alex shrugged. “I do not care what moves him to come to your aid, only that he does.”
Her laugh was strangled. “Yea, and I would not give you odds that ’twill be to your satisfaction.”
“The shift, my lady. Your maidenly protests and delays bore me, and I grow weary of the wait.”
It was a lie, he knew as he said it, for the sight of her creamy skin and shivering innocence was more enticingthan he had anticipated. Indeed, his body had already betrayed him, and he was glad he was garbed in braies and loose trews instead of a more revealing tunic.
More gruffly than he intended, he again ordered her to disrobe. “Lest you have grown fond of Castle Rock, mayhap, milady?”
His mocking taunt brought an angry flush to her cheeks, and the quick retort: “Nay, no more fond than I would be of any sty, I warrant.” In a graceful movement of her slender body, she shrugged out of the silken shift and tossed it contemptuously to the discarded pile of clothing at her feet.
If he had thought to humble her, he quickly realized his mistake. She stood proudly before him, her chin lifted with aloof disdain. Her arms were held rigidly at her sides as she looked past him to the narrow window slit that filtered gray light into the chamber. Alex stood still, suddenly aware that if he moved at all, it would be to caress the tempting curves before him. Saint Jerome, but she was a beauty, temptation painted in cream and rose, high firm breasts with up-tilted nipples knotted into tight rosettes, a tiny waist that needed no stays or binding, slender hips, and thighs with a nest of red-gold curls at the juncture—despite the chill in the air, heated blood pulsed through his veins with thundering urgency.
Chagrined, he knew that ’twas he who was humbled, not this pale creature who was his brother’s only hope. With difficulty, he bent to retrieve her discarded garments, wadding them into a bundle beneath his arm as he finally met her icy gaze.
“If I were as unholy as you seem to think, no pleas or prayers would save you. Remember that, milady, when next you pray for your deliverance.”
Violet eyes regarded him with unblinking animosity. “It has been said that the devil garbs himself in the guiseof a man at times, feigning kindness to the unwary. I do not intend to waver in my prayers for deliverance.”
“Then we both pray for the same thing, for as I said before, the earl’s answer may deliver us all.”
Jaw tight, Alex left the chamber without another glance at her, slamming the door behind him.
As the echo of the slamming door faded, Catherine’s legs buckled
“All of it,” he said gruffly when she hesitated, and her head flung up in an angry shimmer of loose hair.
“Yea, Sir Blackguard, so you have said.”
He watched dispassionately as she twisted out of the undergarment and flung it to the floor atop the velvet. She stood there before him garbed in only the thin silken shift that reached to mid-thigh. He waited until he saw in her widening eyes that she at last understood what he wanted.
“If you think the sight of my shift will move my father to agreement,” she said through stiff lips, “you are much mistaken. Twill only anger him,”
Alex shrugged. “I do not care what moves him to come to your aid, only that he does.”
Her laugh was strangled. “Yea, and I would not give you odds that ’twill be to your satisfaction.”
“The shift, my lady. Your maidenly protests and delays bore me, and I grow weary of the wait.”
It was a lie, he knew as he said it, for the sight of her creamy skin and shivering innocence was more enticingthan he had anticipated. Indeed, his body had already betrayed him, and he was glad he was garbed in braies and loose trews instead of a more revealing tunic.
More gruffly than he intended, he again ordered her to disrobe. “Lest you have grown fond of Castle Rock, mayhap, milady?”
His mocking taunt brought an angry flush to her cheeks, and the quick retort: “Nay, no more fond than I would be of any sty, I warrant.” In a graceful movement of her slender body, she shrugged out of the silken shift and tossed it contemptuously to the discarded pile of clothing at her feet.
If he had thought to humble her, he quickly realized his mistake. She stood proudly before him, her chin lifted with aloof disdain. Her arms were held rigidly at her sides as she looked past him to the narrow window slit that filtered gray light into the chamber. Alex stood still, suddenly aware that if he moved at all, it would be to caress the tempting curves before him. Saint Jerome, but she was a beauty, temptation painted in cream and rose, high firm breasts with up-tilted nipples knotted into tight rosettes, a tiny waist that needed no stays or binding, slender hips, and thighs with a nest of red-gold curls at the juncture—despite the chill in the air, heated blood pulsed through his veins with thundering urgency.
Chagrined, he knew that ’twas he who was humbled, not this pale creature who was his brother’s only hope. With difficulty, he bent to retrieve her discarded garments, wadding them into a bundle beneath his arm as he finally met her icy gaze.
“If I were as unholy as you seem to think, no pleas or prayers would save you. Remember that, milady, when next you pray for your deliverance.”
Violet eyes regarded him with unblinking animosity. “It has been said that the devil garbs himself in the guiseof a man at times, feigning kindness to the unwary. I do not intend to waver in my prayers for deliverance.”
“Then we both pray for the same thing, for as I said before, the earl’s answer may deliver us all.”
Jaw tight, Alex left the chamber without another glance at her, slamming the door behind him.
As the echo of the slamming door faded, Catherine’s legs buckled
Similar Books
It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age
Phil Callaway, Martha O. Bolton
