The Barbarian Prince by Michelle M. Pillow

Author:Michelle M. Pillow [Pillow, Michelle M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Erotica
ISBN: 9781586086732
Google: 54MztwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1460926064
Publisher: The Raven Books
Published: 2004-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The next morning when Morrigan awoke from her troubled

dreams, Ualan was gone. She was glad for it. But, like he

promised, Mirox came to her bright and early to show her

how to prepare a traditional Qurilixen dish.

Wel , saying he was showing her would have been too

generous. The man was sitting in a chair watching her do

the showing as he instructed like a culinary sergeant from

hel .

"Ah, you might want to add more honey," Mirox said from

his chair. He couldn’t help but notice her furious mood as

she slammed stuff around.

Morrigan wrinkled her nose, making a face he couldn’t see.

As she squirted honey into the bread, she felt she had been

kneading for at least an hour. The dark blue dough stuck to

her fingers and she grimaced. Now this was slave work.

Mirox watched as she poked a face into the bread’s rising

surface and then punched it repeatedly with a bal ed fist.

"This is fine," she grumbled. Her dough hands lifted in the air from the bowl to drop blue clumps on the clean floor.

Mirox frowned. Setting forward, he took a towel from the

counter and swiped up her newest mess.

Morrigan was hurt. Her body ached, her mind was overtired

and she felt as if she was on fire al the time. One thought of

her wayward ‘master’ and she would flush and her legs

would weaken like a simpering female. And Morrigan

Blake was not a simpering female.

She was more than a little upset that he hadn’t finished

what he started--again. Every time she remembered

begging him for it, she punched the dough with renewed

vigor. She had actual y begged him!

Make love to me, her head mocked. How pathetic was

she?

Become the master, Morrigan silently ridiculed herself

further, her mouth moving to unconsciously mouth the words

to the countertop. Lucking, Mirox was turned from her.

Make him the slave. Then you wil make a deal for your

freedom. Not bloody likely!

"A little longer, my lady," suggested Mirox, seeing the

dough wasn’t thoroughly mixed.

"They should invent a machine to do this," she muttered.

Mirox tried not to laugh. Right next to her on the counter was

a mixer, but Lord Ualan had been very clear that she was to

do everything by scratch and that included mixing the blue

dough for the ful hour.

Morrigan sighed as she began kneading again, making

faces as she absently hit at the dough. This time she

knocked sugar into the bowl with her elbow. Mirox frowned

as she quickly righted it. After brief consideration, she

kneaded the sugar into the dough too. Mirox grimaced.

Morrigan decided she was going to try again to turn the

tables on Ualan. She was going to seduce him. Then let

him be the slave to her! See how he liked being made to

bow constantly at her feet. See how he liked having to cook

her meals.

"Maybe we should start over," Mirox suggested, stil looking at the dough.

"No, this wil be perfectly fine. I’m not doing this for another hour. Besides, I wasn’t sure which spices you were talking

about when I basted the…wil..wilddeor?"

"Yes, my lady, wilddeor," Mirox said, growing weary.

"It seems to be smel ing fine," she returned, shrugging.

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