The Barbarian Prince by Michelle M Pillow

Author:Michelle M Pillow
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: General, Romance, Fantasy, Life on other planets, Women journalists, Erotica, Fiction, Mail order brides
ISBN: 9781586086732
Publisher: New Concepts Publishing
Published: 2005-06-01T04:00:00+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.

Well, 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 hell.

"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 balled 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 all 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 actually 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 will 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 full 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, still looking at the dough.

"No, this will be perfectly fine.

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