Carolyne Cathey Read Online Free PDF

palm up the
inside of her thigh, then paused, and burned.  She let out a sob and closed her
eyes. 
    Lord Kyle squeezed
her leg.  "Look at me."
    She squinched her
eyes tighter and shook her head.  Blood flooded her face.  He had warned her
she would beg.  "Please, cease, my lord."
    "I said,
look at me."
    Eleanor steadied
a shaky breath and fanned her lashes upward until she gazed on his taut mouth
surrounded by pale whisker-stubble, then up to his eyes that shimmered liquid
heat.
    Lord Kyle circled
his thumb on her fevered inner thigh as if to sear a brand of ownership.
    She kicked out
with her foot, then gasped with the shooting pain.
    He flashed her a
how dare you defy me look and seared a path upward to her aching privacy that
even she touched only when necessary for cleanliness.  Lord Kyle brushed
against her curls and a thousand firesparks flared in her loins. 
    "Although
you belong to me, Eleanor, I will not harm you.  Now, release my hand."
    "Please,
don't, my lord." 
    "You cannot
stop me.  No one will come to your rescue, so do as I say.  Release my
hand."
    Eleanor blinked
at her welling tears and bit her lower lip to stop a sob.  Defiant, she met his
glare of authority and loosened her grip.
    His mouth
twitched as if with smug victory.  He brushed at her curls once more and the
tingles intensified the hot fire that surely melted her insides, for she could
feel the moistness.
    "If you had
not defied me, wench, I would not have touched you as I have.  For certain, you
did not know that.  But, in time, you will learn my moods and ways.  Now, lift
your skirt."
    Wild beats abused
her heart.  With slow movement she grasped her hem and raised the fabric past
her knees.
    "Enough." 
    He squeezed her
thigh then withdrew his hand, but her flesh still burned as if he touched her. 
    Lord Kyle reached
for a bucket of water and dragged it across the wooden floor to his side. 
    Terrified as to
what depravity he intended, she scrutinized him while he picked up a linen
cloth from a stack on the hearth and draped it over his thigh beneath her
foot.  Dipping another cloth into the water, he squeezed the drips into the
bucket, then...washed away the dried mud!
    Her mouth dropped
open in shock, then she uttered a cry of anguish as he rubbed the cloth over
her injured flesh.  "You wash my feet?" 
    "Aye." 
He dipped the cloth, squeezed again, washing away more mud.  "I don't wish
to cause you pain, but these sores must be cleaned before they become proud. 
They look like raw meat."
    He lowered her
foot on a clean towel and picked up her other foot.
    "That's why
you wanted me to lift my skirt?  To clean my feet and legs?"     
    The corner of his
mouth twitched as if he fought a grin.  The arrogant lout had used her own fear
to humiliate her.  Sudden rage burst past her fear. 
    "How dare
you mortify me in such a way!"  She pummeled her fists on his head and the
rock hardness of his shoulders, which only added to her agony, for now her
hands stung, as well.  "How dare you wash my feet!  How dare you--"
    Lord Kyle burst
into laughter.  He dropped the cloth and grabbed her wrists.  The corners of
his azure eyes crinkled with his amusement.  "Do I mortify you because I
wash away your filth?"
    "Nay, you
big oaf.  Because..." She stopped, unsure what to say that wouldn't
further expose her humiliation.
    His eyes
softened, then heated.  "Are you disappointed?"  His words breathed
from his mouth like soft velvet.  "If so, I'm most eager to accommodate
you.  I confess, I much enjoyed my search for your hidden treasure."  He
rested her other heel on the floor.
    Eleanor struggled
to control her rapid breaths, her indignation.  "I would think you'd not
be bothered with such a lowly task, my lord."
    "Did you
wish me to call Beth to clean your feet?"  He picked up the damp cloth and
wiped his hands.
    Eleanor shook her
head, oddly irritated by the suggestion.  "Nay.  I'm used to my own care. 
I expect no aid