Purebred Read Online Free PDF Page B

is
proven," she yelled, breathless. "Go back at once."
    "No."
    But he slowed his horse at last and
she could take a breath. "There was no reason for that display. If
you have hurt those men—"
    "I wounded their pride, nothing more.
Perhaps next time they will have their eyes open as any man
guarding you should."
    Little pinpricks of moisture scattered
through the canopy of leaves and hit her forehead when she turned
her face upward.
    "See," he said proudly. "I warned you
it would rain."
    "Then take me back to the
manor."
    "Not yet."
    "You will do as I say!"
    "No."
    Isobel was no longer afraid that she
would be killed, but she had no idea what else he had in mind for
her and his adamant refusal to take her back to the others hinted
that his intentions were far from good. Her heart thumped hard in
her breast, and she had begun to perspire under her woolen gown,
but the cooling spatter of rain was refreshing and somewhat
soothing. Whatever he planned to do to her, he had better be
prepared to face reprisals, she thought. "My husband will not find
this amusing," she exclaimed.
    "Your husband , my lady, lies abed with his
guts afire this morning. I doubt he'll find anything amusing until
he's drunk again."
    The horse halted and he swung down,
dragging her after him.
    "And now you will apologize to me,
Lady Isobel, for doubting."
    "Doubting what ?"
    "That you had need of me."
    She tried to regain her dignity,
despite the fact that she'd lost a shoe and her wimple had been
dislodged, half torn off by the branches. The rogue was looking at
her hair, and she could have sworn there were flames leaping in the
depths of his gaze. Hungry, savage flames. "If you will not take me
back, I'll go alone."
    "Say you are sorry, Lady
Isobel."
    "Never." She spun around but had not
got two steps before he grabbed her, jerking the remains of her
wimple off her head. "How dare you touch me?"
    "I will touch you as much
as I like. Your husband , my fine lady, has given me permission. In fact, he has
given me orders to touch you. To touch every part of
you."
    Isobel struggled, but he held her firm
and backed her to the wide, gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. She
couldn't believe it. She didn't want to.
    And yet she did.
    This was what her husband had meant
when he spoke of her being "serviced".
    Alonso d'Anzeray leaned over her,
shutting out the dappled light through the trees, sheltering her
from the raindrops that fell harder now. "He tells me you are still
a virgin."
    Since he did not phrase it as a
question she gave him no answer.
    Not that he needed one. "I'll find out
for myself," he muttered, eyes hot, staring down at her. He raised
the right hand to his mouth and used his teeth to pull off his
leather riding glove. "I need to know now."
    "Don't," she gasped, shaking her head,
her long hair snagged on the rough bark.
    He didn't listen, of course; she may
as well not have spoken. His bare hand was under her gown before
she could kick out in protest, his long fingers sliding between her
thighs. "Your husband intends for me to put a child in your womb,
because he cannot. So this rough, uncouth, bastard barbarian will
be putting his cock in you tonight. What think you of that, eh?"
His voice was low, deep, his breath blowing against her brow as his
fingers reached her trembling pussy and parted her nether
lips.
    "I don't," she snapped, tense. "I
don't think of it at all."
    "Why? It's going to happen, whether
you like the idea or not. Are you afraid? Anxious? Horrified?" He
laughed coldly. "Disgusted by the thought of my big common cock
filling your dainty cunt until it can take no more, fucking you
over and over?"
    To Isobel's shame she knew she was wet
and he would feel it on his naked fingers. One of them was prying
between her labia now. His thigh was tight against her leg, holding
her back to the tree trunk while his finger explored.
    "I have no feelings on the matter,"
she managed finally through gritted teeth. But the images his words
drew in her