Bride of the Beast by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

Author:Sue-Ellen Welfonder [Welfonder, Sue-Ellen]
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-01-07T07:04:46+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Enchanter of women.

A charmer of untold skill and finesse.

Capable of seducing the virtue from a self-sacrificing virgin saint... or so his men claimed.

So why had he pulled his hands from her grasp—away from her straining nipples—and dropped to his knees on the rush-strewn floor?

Kneeling before her, his dark head slightly inclined, he looked anything but a man well-apprised of the fine art of winning female hearts.

He appeared soundly defeated.

Worse, he looked ... pained.

Caterine worried the soft folds of the arisaid bunched on her lap, instinctively seeking its comfort, silently willing him to raise his bowed head and look at her.

To touch her again.

And rekindle the tight whirling of heated pleasure that had spun through her the instant his fingers had lighted on her breasts. She'd only just begun to near its edges when he'd pulled away, his unexpected reaction hurling a flood-tide of embarrassment through her.

Had he done so because she'd bared herself?

The notion curled sharp-ended talons of mortification

around her pride, cruelly dashing every last remnant of the exhilarating tremors called to life by his touch. Tingle by tingle, they fizzled into a congealed pool of cold perplexity somewhere in the very pit of her belly.

Caterine stared at him, one half of her admiring the way his thick hair gleamed in the moonlight, the other half cringing inwardly when her gaze lighted on his tightly clenched hands.

At the sight of those white-knuckled fists, the weight of her harlotry pressed heavy on her shoulders. That she'd joyed in such wantonness, pressed heavier still.

Steeling her spine, she drew back her shoulders against her shame and lifted her chin a defiant degree. He certainly wasn't shy about her seeing his nakedness ... he'd stood calmly before her, fully unclothed beside the bathing tub the morning he'd repaired the latrine chute.

And he'd been full aware of her measuring gaze. If anything, a flash of pride had shown on his face.

So why shouldn't she revel in the thrill of having him gaze on hers?

Her stomach knotting at the madness taking possession of her, she stretched her hand across the cold air between them and boldly slid her fingers through the thick mass of his shoulder length hair.

"Have I shocked you, my lord?" She put her vexation to words, the soft whisper scarce louder than a sigh, but rife with her pique. "Has my ... daring offended you?"

His head snapped up, the muscle working in his granite-hewn jaw boldly proclaiming she'd done that and more.

"In the name of all the saints and apostles," he pushed out, more to himself than to her. "Is that what you think?"

His deep voice held nary a note of censure, but purest agitation stood etched in every line of his face, and the barely repressed irritation spoke more eloquently than any words of denial.

As did the tense set of his broad shoulders.

"Well?" He regarded her with that calm, all-seeing intensity of his.

Not that he needed to glare the truth out of her.

Her ire burned to sling every ounce of it against his hard-muscled chest.

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