Medieval 01 - Untamed Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t it be a willing wench who tugged at my loins?
    But it wasn’t. Not yet.
    With a mental curse at being forced to go through the prolonged formalities of physical seduction with a simple cotter’s wench, Dominic tipped Meg’s stiff chin up with his cupped hand. If she were as cold as her voice, no seduction was possible; and that, too, had to be determined.
    â€œSmall falcon,” Dominic said, “marriage has nothing to do with this .”
    The tender sensuality of Dominic’s tongue as he traced Meg’s lower lip was completely unexpected to her. She went still while strange sensations shivered through her body, making her feel as fragile as flame, as valuable as a dream come true.
    How can so ruthless a man be so gentle with me? Meg asked herself wonderingly.
    Inside Meg, as deeply held as Dominic’s cry of pain, Glendruid hope lifted its careworn head. Perhaps now, after one thousand years, perhaps now the waiting would finally be at an end….
    Then Meg saw the cool patience in Dominic’s eyes and remembered what he had said about the falcon: if beating the bird would have taught it trust, he would have beaten it.
    He is using tenderness on me as surely as he used it on the peregrine. But Glendruid eyes see more clearly than even a falcon!
    Meg wrenched free of Dominic’s grasp so quickly that the peregrine spread her wings and called in sharp distress.
    â€œBe still,” Dominic said. “You frighten my falcon.”
    Though soft, the icy command in his voice was as unmistakable as the jangling bells on the falcon’s jesses.
    â€œSoothe her,” Dominic said.
    â€œSoothe her yourself,” Meg retorted softly. “She is your captive. I, sir, am not .”

3
    S TANDING JUST INSIDE THE DOORWAY of the bath on the keep’s fourth floor, Simon watched his older brother warily. Dominic had been in uncertain temper since he had been to the mews that morning. Discovering that his future wife wasn’t going to break bread with him until the wedding feast tomorrow had done nothing to improve Dominic’s mood.
    â€œThe women’s hall,” Dominic said in disgust.
    Black cape flung back, fists on his hips, Dominic looked around the bare stone room. The draft from the gutter that emptied into the moat was severe. The wall hangings and wooden screens that might have tempered the chill were absent. The bathing tub was more suited to a woman’s size than to a man’s.
    The water, at least, was hot. It breathed a warm mist into the chill room.
    â€œWhy in the name of all the Angels of Judgment would a man put the only bath—such as it is—in the women’s quarters?” Dominic demanded.
    â€œJohn has never been beyond Cumbriland,” Simon said calmly. “He never had a chance to learn—and enjoy—Saracen ways. He probably thinks bathing will endanger his manhood.”
    â€œGod’s eyes, was the man good for no more than sowing crops of bastards over the countryside while his wife still lived?”
    Wisely, Simon said nothing.
    â€œThe bailey wall is more wood than stone,” Dominic snarled, “the armory is a rust closet, the fields are barely plowed, the cisterns are like sieves, the pasture is eaten down to rock, the fish ponds are more weed than water, the dovecotes are a shambles, and there isn’t even a rabbit warren to put meat on the table in winter!”
    â€œThe gardens are excellent,” Simon pointed out.
    Dominic grunted.
    â€œAnd the mews are clean,” Simon continued.
    Mentioning the mews was a mistake. Dominic’s expression flattened into savage lines.
    â€œGod rot a lazy lord,” he snarled. “To be given so much and to use it so badly!”
    Simon glanced aside at Dominic’s squire, who was looking very unhappy. Simon didn’t blame the boy. Few men had seen Dominic in a temper. None had enjoyed the experience.
    â€œIs everything at hand for