Carolyne Cathey Read Online Free PDF Page A

"Aye, thanks to ye, milord.  And I see ye fare thee well
yerself."  With a glint in her eyes, she nodded to Eleanor and hurried
from the room.
    A
young woman brushed at her brown skirt and bobbed.  "Me has put lavender
and rosemary in with the fresh rushes, milord."
    "Ah. 
You're thoughtful, as always, Anne.  I noticed the fragrance as soon as I
entered."
    How
curious.  With his servants he showed kindness and concern.  Only with her had
he seemed surly, driven.
    The
girl giggled and ran past two men who entered with a large, wooden tub.  Others
followed with buckets filled so full that water sloshed onto the rushes.  They
plopped down their burdens in front of the flaming hearth and left the chamber.
    A
shiver coursed up her spine.  A tub.  He had warned her she must scrub his
back.  Eleanor wondered how a true bath might feel.  To sink at least half her
body into warm wetness instead of washing with cold water from a cracked clay
bowl must be wondrous indeed.
    A
white-haired man leaned a poker against the fireplace stones.  He nodded, then
showed sparse, uneven teeth when he smiled.  "The chill should be gone
before long, Lord Kyle.  I placed two stools beside the hearth.  Is there aught
else ye need, Sire?"
    Lord
Kyle dropped his gaze to Eleanor's.  Color returned to his face.  His eyes
softened, then blazed with that same fire as when he had vowed she would do
aught he asked when she shared his bed.  He winked at her, then glanced at his
servant.
    "Nay,
Peter, that's all I need.  At least, from you."
    Heat
flooded Eleanor's cheeks and her heart fluttered at too rapid a pace.
    The
servant nodded, a knowing smile on his face.  "We're grateful you've
returned home, milord."  The door thumped shut behind him as he left the
chamber.
    Alone. 
Heaven help her.   Her weakness against his strength, woman against man,
peasant against knight.  Fear trembled her even more.
    Lord
Kyle moved to the hearth and with a sigh, lowered her onto a stool. 
    Coolness
chilled her side where his body once pressed; heat from the fire warmed her
other side.  A log popped, then sizzled.  Smoke wafted to her nostrils.
    She
studied the top of Lord Kyle's wet, leather skullcap as he concentrated on her
legs that rested on his arm.  He slid his hands until her feet rested in his
palms.  With tender care he placed first one of her heels, then the other on
the clean rushes.  She grimaced with the sudden pressure.  Surely she must have
three hearts, for one throbbed in each foot, as well as the one in her chest.
    Before
she could pull her legs together, he knelt between her outstretched limbs, and
a shudder fled along her nerves.
    Even
though he rested on his knees, because of his height, his head remained at a
higher level than hers, his bulky form much too near.  Vulnerable, that's how
she felt, as she sat, splayed, astride his thighs.
    Thunder
rumbled closer, louder, as if in warning.
    "Now,
wench, I would examine you."  Lord Kyle pierced her with a determined
gaze.  "Lift your skirt."

C hapter T hree
    " L ift my . . ." Eleanor
shoved her fists between her skirted legs.  "Nay!  I prefer you cut off my
hand!" 
    Before she could
bite her errant tongue, Lord Kyle grabbed her ankles, his nose pressed so close
to hers that the blue flame in his eyes scorched her as much as his hold.
    "Never again
make such a rash request."
    "Not rash,
Sire.  Practical.  I have two hands, but only one maidenhead."
    "Since I am
master here, I may take your hand and your maidenhead." 
    She gulped. 
"But, my lord--"
    "Ah.  I see
you do remember my title.  'Tis, my lord, now.  Are you so desperate to soothe
this unholy beast?"
    Eleanor's words
stuck in her throat.  His lips hovered near hers and scattered her
concentration, his spicy breath warm wafts against her cold mouth. 
    Lord Kyle released
one ankle and pushed his hand up under her damp skirt.  Panicked, Eleanor
groped at his wrist through the fabric, but he slid his callused