Highland Victory (Highland Wars Book 3) by Eliza Knight

Author:Eliza Knight [Knight, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knight Media, LLC
Published: 2015-06-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

SINKING into the warmth of the extra blanket draped over his shoulders, Ulric gazed at the pinched face of the slender woman beside him. In the firelight, she should have been beautiful. But she wasn’t.

It was confusing.

There was a tightly leashed anger about her. More dangerous than Beatrice. This woman was calculating and patient. He could tell on gut instinct.

But still, he was warm.

He was fed.

A man had to do what a man had to do to survive, and Ulric wasn’t above taking the offerings of a woman, even if she was a demon incarnate.

Beatrice was, too, and he’d done enough for her and with her that he hated himself. In fact, at this point he wanted to die. He’d thought he could escape. Had worked to regain his strength. Had hoped that by doing all Lady Beatrice wanted that she’d slip up and he could overpower her, but then they’d gone outside. And he’d almost frozen to death before Leticia saved him. If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be safe and warm in front of this fire pit.

Of course, there was a chance that with Leticia’s help he’d be able to regain his strength, that he could escape. And he was almost certain she would ask him to choose a side. What else did she have to gain by helping him?

Ulric had witnessed the exchange in the forest. Beatrice liked to take. As soon as she’d seen the woman being pleasured, he’d almost tasted the jealousy pouring from her body. Beatrice liked a man’s cock inside her, too. If she could have, he would be willing to gamble that Beatrice would carry a cock inside her for all her days. And one thing was for certain, she wouldn’t let this woman have what she wanted. Just like she wouldn’t let Ulric.

If she didn’t ask him to choose sides, maybe he’d get up the nerve to ask.

Maybe.

He shivered, even though he was warm, and then smiled into the vast plaid blanket, hiding his glee from the woman as she rubbed her hand gently on his back.

“You’re still cold. Here, have more whisky.” She handed him the jug again, and Ulric grabbed hold of it, guzzling greedily. Though it burned its way down his throat, it did amazing things to him inside and out. The cold was washed away and his body felt tingly and good.

“Th-thank you,” he said, pretending his teeth were chattering. He didn’t know why exactly he presented weakness, only that it was better for him in his current situation to appear weak. “Y-you’re so kind.”

A soft laugh escaped her, the sound not fitting her at all. It sounded practiced. Like it had belonged to someone else, and she stole it. He found his gaze stuck on her, observing the bones jutting at her cheeks, the eyes just a little too closely set together, lips that looked better rouged. Her laughter continued a moment more, almost like she just wanted to hear it for herself.

Why did

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