“My uncle says that the Spanish are a hot-blooded, licentious people and that blood will tell.” She wondered how Alexander, so clearly a man of some worldly knowledge, could be ignorant of this truth.
“Oh, aye? I never believed your swine of an uncle would ever say a word I agreed with. ‘Tis glad I am to be proven right.”
She saw the reply as hard proof of the man’s total lack of understanding, as well as exhibiting a callous attitude toward her shame, and Ailis grew even angrier. In the tongue of her grandmother, the source of the Spanish blood her uncle so bemoaned, she railed at Alexander. She derided his fine looks, slandered his ancestors, scorned his abilities as a lover, and shredded his manhood in terms that would have made the coarsest stablehand blush. When it all worked only to increase his impudent grin, she heartily cursed men in general and lay back down.
Alexander leaned over her, placing a hand on either side of her head. He was fully aware now of what bothered her. Due to some time at court spent in the company of two Spanish noblemen looking to hire mercenaries, he also had a clear idea of how colorfully she could turn a phrase, but he felt he would keep that knowledge to himself. It could serve him well at some later time. If she thought him ignorant of the language, she would probably use it when she felt a need to say things she had no real wish for him to hear.
“There isna any people who are more or less hot-blooded than another, only those who dinna try and hide their nature,” he said. “Ye bear no shame for this.”
“How can ye say so?”
“Ye could do naught to stop it. What harm, then, if ye can find pleasure in that which ye canna change?” He watched as she thought over his words and he subtly eased the covers from her loosened grip so that he could have a freer access to her soft skin.
Ailis knew she believed his words mostly because it suited her to do so. She finally nodded her agreement, but then frowned at him. Despite how his touch was stirring her blood, she grasped his hand as he slid it over her stomach.
“Now that ye have what ye wished of me, where am I to sleep?” she demanded. “I am weary and I wish to seek my bed.”
“Your bed is here,” Alexander lied, for a bed in the chamber next to his had been prepared for her, as his habit had been to send a woman away once he had his fill of her.
“But ye have had your vengeance.” She felt a trickle of alarm, for she sensed a real danger to her emotions in such enforced proximity to him.
“Aye, I have taken what should have been MacCordy’s, but I find that vengeance has a very sweet flavor, and I mean to taste of it again.” He covered her mouth with his, using a deep kiss to silence any possible protests.
