“Do not toy with me, Bridget.”
She stroked his cock through his pants, refusing to shiver at his tone. In his eyes was a need that flickered in spite of his warning.
“You mean as you did with me last evening?”
The hand on her nape tightened and his voice deepened. “I left you very satisfied.”
“You assume I would leave you wanting, Curan.”
She spoke his name in a sultry voice that drew a husky groan from his lips. She kept her hand moving up and down over the hard bulge covered by the fabric of his britches.
“Or is it the idea of losing control over me that truly drives you to reject me?”
The hand around her waist slipped lower, over her bottom, and clamped her tightly against him. Her hand became trapped between their bodies, his hard cock against her palm.
“Gaining satisfaction with you has been my wish since I arrived to claim you, Bridget. You are the one who insists on telling me that you must obey your father.”
He leaned down and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth, taking a bold taste of her that sent heat throughout her body. But he broke the kiss and stepped away from her. “You accuse me of toying with you, and yet you remind me that our union is not valid in your own eyes.” All hint of playfulness had departed from his face, leaving her facing the hardened side of his nature. “Yet I think you mean to toy with me, Bridget. To practice some of those lessons your mother had you given, only to take your practiced knowledge off to Lord Oswald.”
Her eyes widened, shock making her curl her fingers into a fist and hug her hand closed to her chest. “I told you it would be better if you left me with my mother.” Because she truly hadn’t meant to play with him. He was correct to be wounded. Shame choked her.
He reached out and cupped her chin. “And I have told you, Bridget, that you are mine.”
His eyes were lit with anticipation and determination. She witnessed the raw power that made him the knight who had earned a title. There was no faltering in him, only solid purpose.
“I will have satisfaction from you, my bride, but it will not be so simple as a trick you watched a courtesan perform. I desire more from you, and I swear that I shall have you as my wife.”
A knight always kept his vows.
Bridget shivered, her body tormenting her with how much it craved Curan. Except he’d left her directly after firing his words at her.
Her temper did not save her this time. How could she be angry when in truth she was behaving shamefully? The maid always cried foul when a man trifled with her while intending to leave her.
Was she not committing the very same transgression? Taking her ease with Curan, touching him and sharing her kisses with him all the while thinking that she would leave.
Harsh and laden with guilt, her thoughts cut into her for the rest of the day. She found it hard to focus on the housekeeper May and her introductions to Amber Hill. Bridget found that her resolve to resist Curan had dwindled. Her heart ached, which confounded her the most, that small glimpse into his relaxed nature having snared her tender emotions. Hidden inside him was a heart she could love, tempting her beyond everything else to stay and disobey her mother.
Yet to what end?
Amber Hill was truly a remarkable castle. Three main towers rose up from the border land. The stone was solid and sturdy, while inside the roof of the great hall was supported with timber covered with slate tiles. There were no damp corridors. Whoever had drawn the plans for the towers knew his art well. Windows were placed to capture the most light possible, even on such an early spring day. From the third floor the hills of Scotland were visible as well as the patches of snow that dotted them. Alice lived far over the rise, her husband performing a similar duty to his overlord that Curan would for England. Both of them helping to secure the border.
A curtain wall surrounded the towers, but every inch of the yard was covered in cobblestone. Curan clearly had his financial affairs in good order to be able to afford such a fine fortress. Many border holdings were little more than mud piles that boasted well-armed knights.
“My lady?”
Bridget jumped. “Forgive me, I was lost in thought.”
May inclined her head, but her eyes held a knowing look that such a demure action could not conceal.
“There is no hurry.”
Bridget drew herself up straight. “Spring is upon us. No one will have time for a lack-wit trying to run things.”
“It is not so upon us that you may not take a small amount of time to celebrate being a bride before the duties of mistress take you away.”
“Yes, well, my mother raised me to be diligent to my chores.”
The housekeeper looked like she wanted to argue, but Bridget did not give her time.
“Show me where the spices are kept.”
May turned and walked down the hallway without a comment. There was no escaping the unspoken words lurking in the woman’s eyes, however. Bridget followed her and forced herself to take note of the portions of herbs and spices stored in the still room. Rows and rows of stores kept Bridget’s thoughts centered on the task at hand. She didn’t dwell on the fact that she needed to gather such knowledge only if she intended to remain at Amber Hill. She had to appear as though she were, so she remained in the still room for hours. The shadows grew long across the floor before May spoke again.
“My lord.”
