“You lie!” Katherine cried. She thought of his kiss, his hands, and her body shuddered beneath his. “You are going to ruin me—rape me!”
He was grim. “I have no intention of raping you. Not now, not ever. So cease fighting me.”
“I do not believe you,” she spit. “You are the son of Shane O’Neill!”
“How tired I am of being reminded of that unfortunate fact,” he said sharply.
“Then you should behave like a gentleman.” Katherine tried to buck again and failed. “He raped your mother, did he not? Poor Mary Stanley!”
His nostrils flared, his eyes darkened even more, but his tone was conversational. “I am not my father, Katherine. Never forget it. And now”—his smile did not reach his eyes—“I shall prove it.” He bent his head to kiss her.
Katherine jerked her face to the side so that his mouth landed against her cheek, where it played very softly. His kisses were feather-light. She panted, “I belong to Hugh!”
“After this night, you will know that there is only one man for you—and it is not Hugh Barry.” He still held her wrists above her head, but with one hand. With the other he turned her face to his and covered her lips.
Katherine bucked frantically, but she only succeeded in pushing up against his erection, so she stilled. This time he had not forced her jaws apart, so she refused to open her mouth. But he did not seem intent upon hurrying. His lips brushed hers. Tears formed in the corners of her tightly closed eyes. Already he was unleashing a storm of desire within her body—as she had known he would.
When he paused, murmuring, “Bend to me, darling,” Katherine jerked her face aside.
Panting, she said, “The queen approves of my betrothal to Hugh!”
His gray eyes gleamed. “Bess has been known to change her mind.”
Katherine wished that he would shift his body so that she would not have to be so aware of every throbbing inch of him. “She will be furious with you if you really do this!”
He smiled at her, bent, and with his tongue, tested the tight seam of her lips. Katherine’s clenched mouth easedslightly but she managed to swallow a choked, mewling sound.
“Do not worry about Bess,” he murmured, his tongue flicking first one corner of her mouth and then the other. He paused, met her eyes, said huskily, “I can manage Bess.”
Katherine stiffened in shock. As he spoke, he had begun to rotate his hips, very languidly, and very gently—all the while watching her eyes. She choked then, for the effect was to push his rock-hard sex back and forth against her soft, swollen loins. Katherine finally gasped, arching up beneath him—to meet him.
He laughed and claimed her mouth with his, stroking inside with his tongue. Katherine knew she was about to succumb to him. Against her will, her own hips were lifting restlessly, eagerly, against his. Her body was on fire. She had one determined thought. To spread her already open legs wider still and take every inch of him inside her.
Hugh. She must remember Hugh. Shane O’Neill. She must remember who this man’s father was—and who and what this man himself was. A savage pirate, a murderer. She must not give Liam O’Neill her virtue. Her entire future was at stake.
Katherine seized the thought—and bit down on his tongue.
He howled in pain-filled rage, leaping up. Katherine cried out, too late realizing that she had gone too far. But he had been withdrawing his tongue when she had bitten, fortunately for him, and she did not see any blood at the comers of his mouth.
He stood beside the bed now, enraged, one hand on his mouth. Katherine realized that she was free, and she scrambled to sit up, backing as far from him as she could.
“Wench!” he finally spit out, and she saw a fleck of red. “Damnable wench!” His face turned harsh and grim.
Katherine knew she was in dire jeopardy, and she cried out. “No! I am sorry!”
But he leaned toward her, grabbed her arm and jerked her to the center of the bed, then pushed her down on her back. Before Katherine could jump up, he tied her wristto the near poster of the bed with one of the red-and-gold cords that had tied the bed-curtains back. “Damnable wench!” he said on a long breath. Now he jerked up her other arm, ignoring her wild struggles. “You almost bit my tongue in half—damnation!”
“You forced me to do it!” Katherine gasped, straining at her bonds. “I was only defending myself!”
He tied her ankles to the posters at the bottom of the bed as well, then lanced her with a dark, dire look. “You are lucky, Katherine, ’tis but a scratch.” Suddenly the corners of his mouth lifted very slightly. “Had you dismembered me, one day, you would have sorely regretted it.”
Her temper flared; she forgot her bonds. “I should have bitten you harder!”
His eyes widened. “You seek to provoke me now?”
Instantly Katherine realized the folly of indulging her anger. “No! No! Please untie me. Please.” She had never been more vulnerable or exposed in her life, and it had been insanity to forget her predicament even for a moment. But it was not fear that caused her pulse to thunder in her ears.
He did not answer. His eyes had turned a startling silver and as he smiled slightly, his dagger appeared in his hand. “Punishment,” he said softly.
