Ride Out The Storm by Aleen Malcolm

Author:Aleen Malcolm [Malcolm, Aleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2016-01-06T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Alex leaned back on the large bed listening to Goliath’s sonorous snores, which rhythmically shuddered the thin connecting wall. He stared dispassionately at Cameron, who tossed and turned on the small cot across the room, where he had placed her out of temptation’s way, and noted the young black hound’s concern for his young mistress’s distress as small whimpers burst from her dry lips. He turned away from the sight, blocking his ears, determined to sleep and not soften his harsh resolve. The events of the last hour flashed through his mind as he’d firmly laid her sleeping body upon the small bed. Her clothes had been damp, and not willing to be responsible for a worsening of her illness, he had coldly and efficiently stripped her, hardening his heart to the desirable lithe body that still bore the marks of Beddington’s brutality.

Long, angry scratches now striped the mottled bruises, and finding his hands softly tracing the lines, he’d covered her abruptly and now lay on his larger bed, alone. He turned back and watched her restlessness.

Fiona’s jeering painted face haunted Cameron’s nightmare. She tossed this way and that as the mocking, grating laughter filled her ears and taloned hands pried her eyelids open to watch the voluptuous, sensuous woman fondle Alex’s strong, golden body.

“No,” she moaned, pulling away from the steel hands that grasped her head. “No, I dinna want to see,” she cried.

“Open your eyes. ’Tis but a dream.”

“No, I dinna want to see!” she repeated frantically, trying to loose the firm grip from her head. She screamed with alarm as she was forced to sit up.

Cameron opened her eyes and stared straight into Alex’s golden ones. With a small whimper of relief she burrowed her hot face into his strong, bare chest and, wiggling, curled herself like a small animal into the safety of his warmth. Alex stared down at the glossy dark head nestled into him, his arms instinctively wrapped around her, and wavered. Taking a deep breath, he grasped her night shoulders and wrenched her from him. Murmuring soft, sleepy protests, Cameron groped toward the warmth and blindly flailed the space between them until she opened puzzled eyes. The rigid, angry set of his face woke her like a splash of icy water. She stared around at her surroundings in bewilderment, unable to bear the hostility end rejection mirrored in those hard eyes. She struggled against the iron grip that still held her away from him.

“Lie still,” he ordered tersely, forcing her back against she pillows, where he held her pinned as he unemotionally sponged her body as though she were a china ornament in need of cleaning, before flinging the wet flannel into a basin of water and getting into his own bed. Cameron listened to his breathing as she forced her mind to awareness. Snatches of the previous day filtered into her memory. An old crone with the giant seaman, a rumbling, creaking cart. She sat up carefully and, leaning on one elbow, reached down to stroke Tor.

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