And so the weight of her daring heavy on her shoulders. That she’d joyed in such wantonness, troubled her even more. Still, she’d only reached for the wonder Rhona urged her to seize. Womanly needs, her friend called such matters. The warmth and heady desire roused by a man’s attentions.
And this man…
Well, he was as good as bound to her, so…
Steeling her spine, she drew back her shoulders against her shame and lifted her chin. He’d not been shy about her seeing his nakedness. Far from it, he’d stood calmly before her, fully unclothed beside the bathing tub the morning he’d repaired the latrine chute.
And she he knew she’d studied him.
He’d been full aware of her measuring gaze. If anything, a flash of pride had shown on his face. So why shouldn’t she revel in the thrill of having him admire her in such a way?
Because she was a woman, a highborn lady, her mind and years of duty reminded her.
Too bad, her rebellious ears chose that moment to hear Rhona’s loud, throaty laughter. Almost as if her friend stood before her, hands on her hips, as she shook her head, warning that fires of passion were a woman’s due.
Caterine wasn’t sure she agreed about theduepart.
She did know that Rhona was a woman all herself, so different and untethered compared to other ladies. She also spoke true, for even now, just recalling her words, Caterine felt a fierce urge to heed her friend’s advice, to push past her usual restraint.
Could she?
She didn’t know and already her stomach was knotting at the madness taking possession of her. But she drew a strengthening breath and then stretched her hand across the cold air between them to slide her fingers through his hair.
“Have I shocked you, my lord?” She put her fear to words, the soft whisper scarce louder than a sigh. “Has my wickedness offended you?”
“Wicked?” His head snapped up, the muscle working in his jaw warning she’d done that and more.
“God’s bones,” he swore. “Is that what you think?”
“I…” she began, but her courage wavered.
“Come now, speak.” His voice held nary a hint of censure, but agitation stood etched in every line of his face, and that said everything, as did the tense set of his broad shoulders.
Caterine clutched her hands before her, her fingers still somehow feeling the smooth thickness of his hair. “I do not know what to say, my lord.”
“I believe you do,” he said, watching her with that all-seeing intensity of his. “I would hear the truth. Whatever it is that troubles you.”
“I am not troubled.”
“I say you are, and I would know why.”
Caterine knit her fingers, felt the hammering of her heart as nerves and fear beat through her.
He lifted a brow. “Well?”
“If you truly want to know, you look as if you’ve not only taken ill, but also as if you’ve just been informed you were to be denied all the holy sacraments.”
His brow lowered, but a corner of his mouth twitched. “I look ill?”
She nodded. “Aye, doomed everlasting,” she told him. “As if you’d died.”
“Some do call it thelittledeath,” she thought she heard him murmur.
“And now?” That, she knew she heard.
He leaned forward. So close his warmth teased her still-naked breasts. “How do I look now, my lady?”
Like you want to devour me, her body cried, responding as his pained expression ebbed into one of concentrated passion. The all-consuming, smoldering kind she only knew from long-ago dreams.
