‘I want to make myself useful in any way I can,’ she continued, and with those words, she sealed her doom. Suddenly, it was too much – the cruelty of women, his struggle for survival, everything.
‘Do you mean that?’ he hissed.
Cecily nodded.
‘Come and be useful then,’ he growled, taking her around the waist and kissing her hard and fast, pouring all his anger, frustration and injured pride into it. She was a soft mouth to cushion his fall, nothing more, but she tasted like heaven, and her mouth on his was sweet oblivion.
Peyton pulled her body close. There was an initial resistance, but then she melted softly against him, and to his great surprise, her mouth opened to take his kiss. His hands roamed up Cecily’s back and into her hair as he sucked in the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her curves beneath his hands, the silkiness of her golden hair. She whimpered into his mouth, sending a bolt of lust to his cock, which stood ramrod stiff against her stomach. For a moment, Peyton wanted to crush her body to his, pin her against the wall and pound himself into her until she submitted and became his slave. With an effort, he held her at arm’s length.
They stared at each other for the longest time, with just the crackle of the fire breaking the silence. Peyton was shocked at the violence of his lust. As for Cecily, who knew what she was thinking? She was probably appalled. Her mouth was open, and she stared at him wide-eyed, her chest heaving.
‘Forgive me. That was wrong,’ he managed to say. ‘Speak, lass, so that I know I am forgiven.’
She stared mutely at him, her lovely eyes wide with shock. ‘Why did you do that?’ she squeaked.
‘Because I bloody well wanted to. Don’t take it to heart. It does not mean we are betrothed, for I’ll not join your long line of suitors. And fear not, I’ll not do it again as it clearly horrifies you.’
‘What gives you the right to lay hands on me?’ she sputtered, squirming in his grasp.
‘The right of ownership. Remember, I have power over you, and I am weary of getting my pride stamped on. And God’s blood, why the outrage? Anyone would think you hadn’t been kissed before.’
‘Not like that, I haven’t.’
Did she mean it was good or bad? ‘I suppose your grand English lover was more skilled than I?’ he spat.
Her palm connected with his face out of nowhere, snapping Peyton out of his rage.
‘I suppose I deserved that,’ he growled. He was not this cur of a man, and she was not the cause of his anger.
Cecily took a deep breath and let him have it. ‘Go and point your cock at Lorna Gilpin, you lecherous dog, for I’m sure she is richly deserving of it.’
Peyton’s anger roared back to life, white-hot and seasoned with humiliation. ‘A lady does not use that word.’
‘Dog or cock?’ Cecily howled. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘I am no lady. In your eyes, I am nought but a whore who throws away her virtue on an Englishman, Jasper Glendenning, or on whoever comes calling.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Peyton grabbed her tighter, and she looked down at the floor. He sank his fingers into her hair. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded, forcing her head up.
‘That is why you treat me this way,’ she gasped.
‘No, lass. I kissed you like that because I…’ He groaned. ‘I wish I could take it back.’
‘Why. Did you not like it?’ she whispered. A tear overflowed and trickled down her cheek.
‘Hah, is your vanity pricked, Cecily? Can no man put his hands on you without swooning with admiration? Are you so proud?’ He shook her. ‘I did like it, but I shouldn’t have done it, that’s all.’
She blinked, and another fat tear ran down her face. ‘Aye, you should,’ she whispered.
‘Why?’
‘Because I suppose I wanted you to,’ she said, and just like that, Peyton’s world shifted.
‘I don’t understand you, lass.’
‘I cannot fathom it, but I trust you, Peyton. I don’t think you’d ever hurt me,’ she said, her eyes darting to his mouth like an invitation.
‘Don’t be too sure about that,’ he said. Then he was on her - his mouth, his hands, roaming, stroking, owning. Her soft breasts squashed to his chest, inflaming his lust. Peyton tried to be gentle, but Cecily clung to him and devoured his mouth as much as he devoured hers.
In a flood of frustrated lust, he dragged Cecily to the bed, and he threw her down upon it. He fell onto her. She moaned when his mouth claimed hers again, and Peyton kissed her passionately, over and over, as if some unstoppable force shouted,‘Take her! It is your right. Leave all your honour behind. Take your pleasure.’
