by Mia Pride
A small movement caught his attention from the left of the room and he shifted his body so he could see better. With the pitch black of darkness working in his favor, he knew he could see in far better than anyone could see out.
A flutter of movement caught his gaze once more and he finally saw someone sitting on the other side of a sofa, elaborately upholstered in blue and silver damask fabric to match the curtains. He could see the candles placed carefully upon a table reflected on the top of a head with golden-blonde hair. Katherine. It had to be her. Of course, the curious lass would not simply go to bed as a typical lady would do. Well, he would give her curious mind some new skills to learn very soon.
Now that he knew where she was in the house, he needed to find his way inside. If he broke the window, she would likely scream and alert her father or the servants of his presence before he could reach her. He wished to have her well and far away before her father found the note.
His heart thudded with anticipation. He had never kidnapped a lass, but he found the idea of his revenge incredibly thrilling. As a knight, he should feel shameful for his plans with the lass, but he knew he could get her to beg for him. He would not need to force her. And she deserved to be ruined for all the harm she had caused. He needed to remind himself of this repeatedly, fight that side of him that grew soft where she was concerned.
He moved to a window on another side of the house, and he saw it was pitch black inside, yet the curtains were also cracked open. Cupping his eyes and leaning against the glass, he could not see much but had to hope it was empty. After all, servants slept below stairs and Richard would sleep above. These first floor rooms usually held a library, study, or dining area which would likely be vacant at this time of night. Looking up, he gauged the time based on the stars. It was about an hour after midnight. Any decent lass would be abed, but Katherine was no decent lass.
Wrapping his hand in his thick wool cloak, Thomas punched through the glass, knocking the remaining shards away before silently lifting himself into the darkened room. Pausing for a moment, he heard not a single sound. He had made certain this room was far enough away from the library as to not startle Katherine with the sounds of glass breaking.
Feeling his way through the room, he bumped into a table and knocked something over, cringing when the object shattered beneath his feet. He murmured a curse and stood still, but he heard nothing. The door was open to this room, so he crept toward it, the candles from the library across the way affording him some light and guiding his moves.
His heart pounded in overtime and he had to focus on his breathing as he stepped into the library and saw her. Golden waves floated around her face as she lay with her back propped up on the arm of the sofa. A thin blanket was draped over her legs, but he could not help but notice she wore naught but her night shift beneath it. A book was held loosely in her hands, but by the upward tilt of her face turned away from him and the book, he was sure she was sleeping.
Creeping closer, he steeled himself for what he must do next. Placing his palm over her mouth, her body jumped in fright and she let out a wail just as her brilliant blue eyes popped open in fear and locked onto his. Her scream died down when she recognized him, but he dared not remove his hand.
“Ye are coming with me,” he whispered. “Keep yer mouth shut or there will be the devil to pay.” She nodded in understanding beneath his palm and, as he slowly released her, he was shocked to see her smile.
“Thomas!” she whispered. “I thought ye had died!” She went to embrace him but pulled back with a wince. His brow furrowed when he realized the mark under her right eye that he had assumed was a shadow, was a nasty bruise, black with purple around the edge.
He wanted to roar his anger, slaughter whoever had hurt her, but he steeled himself against speaking further. Mayhap she fell during one of her mischievous plots. He grunted, and without warning, swooped down to lift her up, discarding the wool blanket on the couch and placing the note from within his cloak on top.
Katherine winced again as he cradled her and frowned. “What are ye doing? What is that note?” He ignored her and left the room, heading toward the broken window on the other side of the house. “Thomas! Put me down! What are ye doing?” she cried. “My papa will kill ye if he finds ye here.” She looked at the broken glass and gasped just as he passed her through the window, Juan grabbing her from the other side.
Panicking in earnest, she screamed, but Thomas slapped his hand over her mouth to stifle her, baring his teeth. “I told ye to be quiet! I will gut yer father for what he has done to my crew. Scream again and yer father is dead.
She pursed her mouth shut and shivered as the cold night air wrapped around her body. With a curse, he yanked off his cloak. “Put her down… gently,” he ordered Juan who did as he commanded. She hobbled and cried out when her feet touched the ground.
Wrapping the cloak around her, he lifted her up onto his horse, mounting behind her. “Ye are injured.”
“Aye,” she whispered.
“How?”
“I would rather not say…”
“Good. I would rather not know.” He would get answers later. If a man had hurt her, he was dead, but Thomas could do nothing about it for now and it was likely the lass only feigned injury so he would not hurt her. He would never do so, but the more she suspected he would, the better. He found it curious how happy she had been to see him, and how little a fight she had given. Thomas had expected more from the wee hellion.
Kicking his horse into a gallop, he hoped she would be equally willing when it was time for him to take her to his bed.
Chapter Seven
What in all the world had just happened? Her entire body ached from the jolting of the horse against her injuries, but Katherine gritted her teeth against the pain. Thomas did not seem at all concerned with her injuries, which made her want to slam the back of her head into his face, but that would likely only hurt her further. The man’s body felt like a wall of stone against hers as they approached the Clew Bay inn.
Though time eluded her, it had to be the dead of night, for not a soul was within the main area of the tavern when he carried her in his arms. How was she in Thomas’s arms? And why? She thought he had died, and though she was happy to see his face again and had so many things she wished to say, she could not begin to understand why he had broken into her home to steal her away, or why she was not the least bit afraid of him.
He hated her, she knew this much. He was also an honorable knight who had whisked her away. Nothing made sense. After all she had learned about her father’s awful treatment of people, knowing he killed dozens of innocent men on that ship, the revelation that she had a family in England he never spoke of, and then his treatment of her at the inn, she still felt safer with Thomas, despite his obvious disgust of her.
He must have already arranged a room ahead of time, for without a word to the innkeeper, Thomas carried her up the stairs of the inn, kicked open a door, and closed it behind him just before placing her carefully on the bed… the only bed in the room.
“What are ye doing, Thomas?” She felt much too weak. She would have fought him until she had answers if her entire body did not ache.
“Is it not obvious, love?” he growled without facing her. He poured two glasses of some brown liquid and handed her a glass, still without eye contact. She stared at it, frowning at what she was certain was whiskey, though she had never tasted the stuff.
“Nay. Nothing about this is obvious,” she whispered, and cringed as she tried to adjust her body on the bed. She was not certain, but she thought her father may have broken one of her ribs.
“I am desperately in love with ye, lass. I cannae live without ye, so I stole ye away.”
His words made her jaw drop and all the blood drain from her face. “Are ye serious, Thomas?” Tears almost pricked her eyes at his honest confession. It was much too soon to determine if she loved the man, but she was certainly drawn to him and would rather be with him than
her awful father who clearly had no honor.
A horrid laugh filled the room and his usually handsome face twisted up with scorn as he bore down on her. His green eyes, once beautiful, now looked like they belonged to the devil himself. Real tears streamed down her face as she realized he mocked her. She had never asked for his love, nor had she asked him to steal her away. How dare he humiliate her? Swallowing hard, she looked away so he would not witness her tears of shame. Mayhap she deserved his scorn for all she had done, but all she had ever meant to do was help. It was not her fault that her father was cruel.
“Look at ye. Ye disgust me. The blood running through yer veins disgusts me. Because of ye and yer father, my family… my people… my crew, have all suffered!” He roared, and she felt his breath against her ear as she curled into a ball to avoid him. How many men must shout at her for simply caring about the people? The venom he spewed was breaking her heart, and her ribs pulsed with pain crushed beneath his weight on her side.
“Why did ye do this, if ye hate me so?” she croaked, wiping a tear away.
“To get my revenge on yer father for all he has done! It is obvious he values ye above all else. Let us see how he values ye after ye have been ruined by an O’Malley!”
A hurt deeper than she ever imagined clutched at her chest, more painful than the splintering pain in her body. He thought she was foul and loathsome, yet he would punish her by ruining her.
“Have ye not seen my face? My father values me so much he beat me after I was returned to him! I have received my punishment from him for trying to serve Ireland and failing. Now I shall receive my punishment from ye?” Katherine could not hold back her tears any longer. Curse her and her weakness, she was only human and now everyone hated her. She was better off dead at this point. Would Thomas, her honorable knight, truly ruin her? She was already ruined, even if he never laid a hand on her.
“What did he do to ye?” Thomas’s voice sounded tight, as if he struggled to control some pent-up rage. For the first time, she truly did believe he meant to harm her.
Slowly turning in the bed, she cried out as her ribs shifted. Determined to stop her tears, she looked Thomas straight in the eye and refused to look away when he began his string of curses.
“Devil’s bollocks! He did that to ye?” His hand came up to gently touch her swollen cheek and bruised eye, but she cringed and jerked away. The crack in her lip still stung.
“How could ye not have noticed the condition of my face? Were ye so angry that ye were blinded?”
“I… I… thought ye must have fallen,” he whispered, his green eyes scanning her body. In nothing but her chemise, she attempted to cover her chest with her arms but winced at the pain. “Are ye hurt elsewhere?”
“Everywhere, Thomas. I am broken, inside and out.” Closing her eyes and pursing her lips, she felt a tear slip down her cheek just before she felt his finger wipe it away tenderly.
“What did he do to ye? Show me.”
Popping her eyes open, she shook her head. “He beat me with a piece of wood. I am injured in my arm and my thigh, but the worst is here,” and she pointed to her abdomen.
“Show me,” he whispered.
“Nay! I cannae! Not without removing my clothing!”
“Ye need to be tended, lass.”
“Not from ye!” she cried. “Find a serving lass to tend me! I’ll not disrobe for ye.”
He puffed out a sigh of frustration and ran a hand through his hair. “This is not how it was meant to go,” he murmured.
“Och, well I am sorry my injuries ruin yer plans to… to…” her lip quivered. How could her heart ache so deeply because this man, whom she hardly knew, despised her so much? Why did she long for his affection?
“That is not what I meant. I meant… shite! I dinnae know what I meant! I know one thing: I will kill yer father for what he has done to ye. Nay. I will kill him for what he has done to my family. For this…” he waved his hands around her body, staring at her swollen eye. “I will gouge his eyes out, cut out his tongue, and feed it to him!”
Katherine blinked rapidly, trying to understand his irrational mood changes. “So, it is all right for ye to ruin me, but it is not all right for my father to punish me?”
“I would never do this to ye, Katherine! Any man who would is a coward!”
“Right. Ye would only ruin me so nay man would ever touch me again! Or love me! Or marry me! So I would be disgraced!” she shouted at him, finally finding her strength to fight back. “At least my eye and broken rib will heal! Ye meant to ruin me… forever!”
“Ye gave all my grandmother’s cargo to the enemy!”
“To my father! Who, until a few days ago, I thought was a good man! How was I to know the truth? He had never shown me that side! He never beat me before ye came into my life! Now he means to send me away to England to live with my sister, whom I do not even know! A sister ye seem to know quite well!” Why did the thought of him with her faceless sister make her stomach turn sour? More tears slid down her face.
“Take off yer nightdress.”
Eyes growing wide, she gaped at him in disbelief. Even with her injuries, he would force her to bed him? In truth, if she were not in terrible pain, she would require little coercion. What did it matter if she bed him or not? Now that she had been stolen away, she would be considered ruined. No man would ever wed with her now. She may as well finally know what it felt like to be with a man, and Thomas, though brutish one moment and honorable the next, was the man she wished to give herself to. Still… “Ye cannae mean to…”
“I need to bind your ribs, Kat.” She did enjoy his special name for her. Nobody had ever called her “Kat” before.
“I told ye. Find a serving lass. I will not disrobe for ye.”
“It is the middle of the night, Kat. Everyone is asleep. We have nay healer, and a serving lass willnae know how to help ye. I have fought many battles and wrapped many wounds. I vow not to touch ye in any way ye… dinnae wish.” She heard his voice crack and she pursed her lips. He hated her, but he wanted her. She was fairly certain of it. Still, there was no way to expose her ribs without exposing either her top half or lower half.
“Ye can bind me over my nightdress,” she suggested, chewing on her lower lip, already knowing that he would reject that idea.”
Shaking his head, he said, “It needs to be very tight, so ye cannae move it for several days. Tomorrow ye can rest here and after that, we board my ship.”
His last words made her catch her breath. He was taking her on a ship? Why? To where? For how long?
“Lass…” His fingers deftly pulled on the tie of his cloak around her neck and she stilled as it fell off her shoulders, then he did the same with the tie of her nightdress. Thomas’s hands skimmed her shoulders, slowly pushing the fabric down. Her heart beat wildly and gooseflesh sprinkled her skin from the merest touch of his skin on hers. She looked up at him and swallowed hard. As the sheer linen fabric fell further down her arms, she watched as the tops of her breasts became exposed. Part of her wished to panic and cover herself, but the rest of her was much too absorbed in the feeling of his scrutiny. “I need to bind yer ribs,” he murmured, looking at her with something close to sympathy and tenderness. At least his anger had simmer down, or at least shifted toward her father and away from her… for now.
With a deep breath, she swallowed hard and nodded, adjusting herself slightly so she was in an upright position, though it hurt terribly to do so, and she winced. His eyes traveled back down and without further hesitation, he pulled her nightdress down to her waist, carefully slipping her arms out. She cried in pain when her injured arm had to be moved.
The coldness of the room, coupled with her sudden nakedness, made her gasp as her nipples puckered. She had never been exposed to a man before, but she supposed he had seen many naked women. She briefly wondered how she compared to other lassies.
His silence was unnerving, and she looked from her breasts to his eyes and saw that he see
med to be stuck on the sight of her pink-tipped breasts and a sudden pool of desire dropped low in her belly. Even in all her pain, she found wild delight being the center of his attention.
“Thomas?” she whispered, wondering how long he was going to stare at her breasts, rather than tend to her ribs.
Seeming to snap out of his daze, he cleared his throat and shook his head. “Ye are… breathtaking, Katherine.” His hoarse-voiced declaration made her feel as if she would melt into a puddle of desire right here in this bed, broken rib or nay. His hands were fisted at his sides as if it took every ounce of his strength to not reach out and touch her. How she wished he would. Once he had seemingly looked his fill, his eyes finally took in the part of her he was meant to tend, and his face turned red with rage, his jaw clenching. She actually saw the movement of his teeth grinding. Looking down, she frowned at the huge purple bruise across the lower area of her ribs.
“Why would he do this?” he whispered with a deadly calm that made a chill run up her spine.
“He hit me in the stomach, in case I was carrying your O’Malley child, but he missed slightly and caught part of my ribs.” She felt herself on the verge of more tears just re-living the moment. If he did this to her then, what would he do to her once she was returned this time? He would beat her to death.
With a shaky hand, Thomas stood up and tore his tunic over his head and immediately shredded it into long strips of fabric. Katherine watched in awe as every hard muscle of his chest flexed with the effort, his large arms bulging as he worked. He was the most perfect man she had ever seen, like he was sculpted from stone, yet the small scars scattered across his chest and the stitched area of his upper arm proved that he was only flesh and blood. Then she observed the enticing line of hair trailing down his lower abdomen… her eyes followed it down and she almost felt dizzy when her gaze landed on the rather large bulge beneath his breeches.
