And why did Liam O’Neill’s image keep crowding her mind?
“Why do you brood, mistress?” A rich and familiar voice asked.
Katherine stiffened.
Behind her, he bent low, and when next he spoke, his breath licked her ears. “Are you not filled to overflowing with joy now that you can go home?” Liam teased.
Katherine twisted to stare up at him. It was as if she had conjured him out of thin air with her thoughts. “B-but—what do you here!”
He laughed, and suddenly shoved himself between her and Lord Hurry, who scurried to make room for him. Immediately ’twas Liam’s rock-hard thigh pressing against hers and then he picked up her hand.
“Good morn, sweetheart,” he murmured as if they were alone in a bedchamber, nay, alone in bed.
She snatched her hand away. “You are not in the Tower!”
“No, I am not.”
“I do not understand.” Her heart was beating quickly. His warm thigh was jammed against hers. She did not dare to move.
“The good queen has seen fit to pardon me for my sinful ways,” he laughed. Suddenly his hand was on her leg, squeezing her once.
Katherine swatted it off. “You mean, rogue, that you have used that golden charm of yours to get yourself freed!”
“Mayhap.” His gray eyes gleamed.
She huffed. “I am not surprised that even the queen cannot refuse you.” She tried to turn her back to him, but twisting that way was so uncomfortable, that she faced her plate instead.
“A compliment from your pretty lips, Katherine? I had never thought to see the day. I shall cherish it.”
She was so angry. She stabbed her meat with the knife. “You may cherish whatever you choose, O’Neill.”
He smiled. “Ah, then I choose to cherish you.”
And before Katherine could respond, he leaned even closer to her, and again his hand crept up her thigh. He whispered, “Why are you angry, dearest? I had thought you would be pleased to see me spared the hangman’s noose.”
“I am hardly pleased to see you alive and…well!” She jammed her elbow into his shoulder and succeeded in dislodging his hand. “I am trying to eat, O’Neill, and even did I wish to converse, I would not choose you as a partner.”
“Come, Katherine, confess. You heart is not stone. Not where I am concerned. You were worried about me.” He still leaned close, and she could feel his breath against her cheek and throat.
Katherine had had enough. She would never, ever, confess what he wished to hear—even if it were somewhat, and very slightly, true. “You are the very last person I would ever worry about. Now go away!”
Liam laughed. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, darling.”
She faced him, her green eyes on fire. “Do you not have affairs of murder and mayhem to attend to, pirate? Or did you stop here to torture me?”
“There is no pressing murder I must commit this day, no,” he said easily. “But tomorrow—ah—that is another tale.”
“Perhaps I will leave then, if you insist upon staying.” Katherine had no chance to move, though, for his hand quickly gripped hers.
He eyed her bosom. “But I can add torture to my agenda this day, Katherine. Sweet, soft, sucking torture.”
She flamed. “I know not what inanities you speak.”
“I think you lie,” he murmured.
She struggled to pull her hand from his so she could leave the table—so she would not have to put up with hismockery anymore, his suggestions and innuendos, or the proximity of his big body.
But he was relaxed and he released her hand—although his fingers managed to stroke hers as he did so. “Katherine, I suggest you finish your dinner. There will be little chance for more refreshment once we leave Whitehall.”
