Her fingers clumsy at their task, Katrina released the buttons on her bodice one by one. Her breathing grew swift, and a strange excitement unfurled in her belly. As she folded down the fabric, her knuckles, roughened from the day’s work, scraped against the delicate skin on her breasts and sent tiny sparks of anticipation trickling down her spine.
Katrina stood still, her entire body aflame from the intensity of Rothmore’s gaze as his eyes roamed over her skin. He rose abruptly, sending the stool skittering on the floor behind him. He took a step closer. And another. And another, until he stood so near that Katrina could see the pinpoint marks of the stubble that darkened his jaw.
Within touching distance, but not touching.
‘Your breasts have sharpened into tight peaks,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Why?’
‘I guess it means they want to be touched,’ Katrina replied, and the boldness of the invitation made her fear that God would send a lightning bolt to strike her down.
‘Is this how a woman proves her arousal?’ Rothmore murmured. He cupped his hand over the rounded slope of her breast and brushed his thumb over the beaded nipple.
Katrina gasped. Surely, this was the lightning bolt, and she would die from it. Pleasure like she’d never known flared from her breast, echoing deep in her belly. A husky moan escaped her lips, and Katrina arched her back, jutting her breast more firmly into the palm that had given her such sinful sensations.
‘Easy, my sweet,’ Rothmore said, and bent his head to her other breast.
A cry tore from her throat as the wet heat of his mouth covered the sensitive peak. His tongue played with the puckered nipple, and then his teeth closed over it, tugging with a force that sent a ray of insanity through her mind. Katrina slid her fingers into his glossy brown hair and clung, as though she never intended to let go.
Her cry muffled to a low moan that rose and fell as Rothmore released one breast and moved to the other, the heat of his mouth replaced by the cool autumn air that swirled on the edges of the room, beyond the reach of the fire crackling in the hearth.
‘Please,’ she murmured, unsure of what she was asking for, but hoping that he would know and guide her. In some distant corner of her mind, a baffled thought fluttered, like a warning flag, telling her that she had far too easily offered her trust to a stranger. No, her mind shouted. This is not wrong. He is the one to keep me safe. He’ll be strong and loyal. I know he will. I’ve waited, and now I know why. I’ve been waiting for him.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please.’
Rothmore pulled away from her, and for a moment she felt the chill in the air, but then the world tilted as he gathered her in his arms and settled on the stool in front of the fireplace, resting her across his muscled thighs. One of his hands cupped her chin, holding her steady while his eyes roamed her features.
‘I guess now I must believe that you come to me out of your free will,’ he told her in a voice that resonated with need.
Unable to wait, needing to know what it would be like to be kissed by him, Katrina reached up and pulled Rothmore down until their mouths met. A low sound of pleasure rumbled in his chest. Excitement filled her, just as completely as despair had only two short days before.
Gentle and pliant to start with, his lips moulded over hers, coaxing her to open and accept. When she parted her lips to offer him access, his tongue plunged inside and swept away any lingering thoughts of resistance.
Katrina fisted her hands on the front of his shirt and clung. The certainty of having found her destiny filled her mind. Tension gathered inside her and pressed at the apex of her thighs, where an unaccustomed sense of fullness matched the tingling of her breasts.
Tentatively, Katrina stroked her tongue against his and wrung another groan from Rothmore. Emboldened, she released her grip on his shirt and reached one hand behind his neck, tangling her fingers into the thick waves that brushed his shoulders. Her other hand crept across his chest, found the opening of his shirt and slipped inside. Her fingers teased the crisp hairs that sprinkled his skin, and purely by chance she encountered a tightly pebbled nipple.
Rothmore flinched beneath her touch. With a harsh sound that spoke of impatience, he sprung to his feet with her still in his arms and carried her over to the bed. As Katrina sank into the soft folds of the fragrant linen, he leaned over her and tugged at the robe that had tangled around her waist. He pulled the flimsy garment past her hips and down her legs until he could toss it aside. Then he climbed up on the bed and stretched over her, his powerful body trapping her against the mattress.
‘I can scarcely wait,’ he said, his voice rough with restraint. His mouth captured hers in a hungry kiss, and his hands explored her nakedness. His fevered touch found her breasts and moulded them to fit his palms, before restlessly moving to slide down the curve of her hips. When he reached her thighs, he slipped his fingers in between, and the insistent pressure told Katrina that he wanted them to open for his touch.
Docile, obedient, drugged by the languid waves of pleasure that flowed through her, she adjusted her position. Rothmore accepted the unspoken invitation and pressed his knee between her legs to nudge them farther apart.
Katrina stiffened.
As the vulnerability of her position registered in her mind, a sharp jolt of fear shook her awake from the sensual haze she’d tumbled into.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I....’
‘Hush,’ he told her. ‘I will not hurt you.’
Silence filled the room as he fumbled at his groin to unfasten his breeches. Katrina felt the hard length of his sex spring free to settle against her belly, and for a moment panic clouded her senses. She thrashed on the bed, attempting to wriggle out from beneath him.
Rothmore placed his hands on her shoulders to control her struggling, and when she stilled, defeated by his greater strength, he braced one forearm against the mattress to rise up above her. His free hand cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him.
‘Katrina.’ His amber eyes searched her blue ones, and the longing in his gaze eased the hard knot of fear inside her. ‘I’m sorry if I rushed you. It’s just that...’ He didn’t finish the sentence, merely shifted one shoulder in an awkward shrug.
‘I know,’ she said, and reached up to trace his mouth with her fingertips. She could have finished the sentence for him. It’s just that it’s so long since a woman gave me the pleasure of her body and the comfort of her tenderness.
He caught her hand in his, laced their fingers together and pressed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Rolling to his side, he began a slow trail with his lips down her arm, finally arriving at her breast and taking the peaked nipple into his mouth again. Releasing her hand, he reached between her legs, where his fingers caressed the slippery folds.
‘Your body tells me you do not come to me by force,’ he told her, his breath sending a cool breeze over the damp peak of her breast. ‘A denial would be a lie.’ He raised his head and held her gaze with his fierce eagle eyes.
Katrina’s heart expanded at the silent plea in his searching expression. Not trusting her voice, she gave a single nod of consent.
Rothmore lowered his head and took her lips in a slow lingering kiss that sought to soothe and reassure. At the same time, his fingers began to gently tease the bead at the top of her sex. A fiery bolt of pleasure rippled through Karina, and she arched her spine on the bed, sending a guttural cry of passion to echo around the stone chamber.
‘Of your free will?’ he murmured against her neck.
‘Yes,’ she whispered in return. ‘Of my free will.’
With one smooth motion, Rothmore pushed her legs farther apart. His fingers withdrew, replaced by a blunt probing that felt smooth and hard at the same time. His body grew taut above hers. Instinct warned Katrina to brace herself, but it made no difference. A pain seared through her as Rothmore entered her in a single forceful thrust that buried him deep inside her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he rasped, his face taut with the effort of
keeping still. ‘I’ve broken my promise not to hurt you. Why didn’t you warn me that you were untouched?’
‘Didn’t you know?’ Katrina blinked back the tears that burned in her eyes. She clung to his shoulders, as much to let him know that she didn’t resent his invasion as to keep him from moving until the pain had receded.
‘No.’ He leaned down to kiss away a tear that broke free and rolled down her temple. ‘But it pleases me.’
When she relaxed her grip on his shoulders, Rothmore withdrew, but only to slide back inside her with a slow and measured surge that made Katrina understand he was holding back to minimise her pain.
He settled into a steady thrust and recoil, and the pleasure he gave her soon swept aside any remaining discomfort. Her body developed a rhythm of its own. Her hips rose to meet every thrust, and inside her she felt a clenching that sought to retain him after each pounding entry. Soon the barrage of sensations that rocked her body focused on a desperate search for a release from the strange new tension that had seized her.
Nothing else mattered. A chaplain could have stood beside the bed, shouting his warnings about the fires of Hell, and Katrina would have ignored him. Their bodies grew slick with perspiration. The force of his thrusts sent the thick velvet curtains swaying beneath the canopy, and the swishing fabric brought a cool draft with it.
And, finally, when Katrina thought she was going mad inside their sinful world that had shrunk to nothing but their bodies linked together on the fragrant white bedding, the coil of tension inside her snapped. Pleasure broke over her in a glorious burst of relief that went on and on, like ocean waves crashing to the shore.
Katrina blinked her eyes open to see Rothmore arched above her. His muscled shoulders were rigid, and an expression of intense concentration furrowed his stern face. He threw his head back and roared out a release that matched hers, and in a blinding insight Katrina understood that the physical pleasures of the bedchamber could tie a man and a woman together more firmly than the official bonds of Church and law.
* * *
Duncan threw his arm across his eyes, unwilling to let the new day dawn. Katrina’s naked body curled next to him on the bed. Disjointed memories of the night drifted through his mind. His elation at the discovery of her purity. Her eager response to his touch. The softly murmured words when he took her again, after his initial passion was spent and he found delight in lingering as he uncovered the secrets of her body.
He hadn’t fully removed his clothing until after Katrina fell asleep. A bitter smile curved his lips. Trying to hide his deformity from her seemed pointless after the earlier exposure, but during the night filled with passion the impulse to protect his vulnerability had been too strong to resist.
‘Is it morning?’ Katrina stirred beside him, her eyes squinting into the light that filtered in through the narrow slit of a window. Her golden hair fanned across the pillow, and a rosy glow warmed her pale skin.
‘Yes.’ Duncan regarded her, his heart clenching with a force that felt like a blow from a well-aimed lance. He tried to look away, but his gaze drew back to Katrina, ‘Has Agnes given you any pressing duties today?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She wriggled beneath the covers, like a cat burrowing down. ‘This feather bed is most comfortable. Everything else in this house is old and dirty.’
‘I brought a few things with me from Rothmore Castle. The bed, the linen, my horses, my armour and weapons.’ Duncan studied her expression as he laid down the facts of his poverty. ‘Everything else is part of the estate and belongs to whoever holds the title.’
‘What about money?’ Her brows arched. ‘How will you pay for food and repairs to the keep and the gowns you offered me?’
‘I have enough for necessities.’ He observed her through narrowed eyes. Something didn’t make sense. Last night, he had taken her virtue, but instead of expressing regret, Katrina seemed satisfied with life, and was boldly interrogating him about his finances.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked. ‘We didn’t eat supper last night.’
‘I’m starving,’ she declared, and with a playful flounce she turned to him and began to rain kisses on his bare chest.
With a groan Duncan fell back on the mattress. His pulse started to pound as Katrina made her way down his body, dragging her mouth across his belly in an approach to his straining shaft. He gritted his teeth, his mind battling between anticipation, and the disappointment that although Katrina had been untouched, she appeared to possess a certain expertise in the art of tempting a man.
But she passed his groin, and carried on down his thigh. Duncan sucked in a sharp breath. His body froze on the bed. Not a single muscle quivered as he fought to keep still when a soft pair of lips trailed down to his withered calf and caressed the contours of his deformed foot.
‘If you’re trying to kiss it better, I can assure you it won’t help.’ He barely managed the rough words.
Katrina rose to a sitting position, the covers fluttering around her, and leaned over him. Tears glinted in her eyes. ‘Yes it does,’ she said. ‘Here.’ And she pressed her palm over his thundering heart.
Duncan reached for her and crushed her against his chest.
He had to.
Otherwise Katrina would have seen the first tears he had shed since he was eight years old.
Chapter Five
‘Why have you never wed?’
Rothmore glanced up at Katrina from the breakfast tray set between them on the bed.
‘I guess it is for the lack of a suitable wife,’ he replied.
‘Did you not spend time at King James’s Court?’
‘Aye.’ He spread a layer of honey on a crust of bread. ‘But not to attract a wife.’
‘Why not?’
Her insistent probing annoyed him, ruining his pleasure of the night. ‘I can’t dance, and I can’t dress in fashionable clothing. I need to wear breeches with my boots, instead of tight-fitting hose and lightweight shoes.’
‘Surely, your clothing wouldn’t keep women from seeking your company?’
‘Women who are my social equals would rather have someone more presentable. Several women beneath my position have been eager to marry me to improve their standing, but I don’t wish to be used as a platform for social elevation.’
‘Would you marry a woman who is your equal?’
‘Enough.’ Duncan tossed the half-eaten crust on the tray. ‘I find this conversation tedious. I no longer have a social position, and I have no desire to wed.’
‘Why did the King strip you of your lands and title?’
‘He didn’t.’
‘But...’ Katrina sent him a puzzled frown.
‘I offered them up voluntarily. When the King toured the northwest in his ship this year, seeking support for the fight against the English, it became clear that he needed more than I could offer, and I stood aside for the benefit of my cousin.’
‘But if you could regain your elevated position, would you want to?’
‘Who have you been talking to?’ Duncan scowled at her. ‘Has someone told you that the King refuses to issue a Charter of Confirmation for the new baron until a year has passed, to allow me to change my mind? Are you plotting to become a baroness?’
‘No.’ Katrina lowered her lashes. ‘I simply wondered what you wish from your future.’
‘My future is settled,’ Duncan told her harshly. ‘I’ll rebuild this house and learn to farm the land like any other Rothmore tenant. Go.’ He gave an angry flap of his hand. ‘Find Agnes and see what duties she has in store for you today.’
He watched, guilt clawing in his gut, as Katrina climbed out of the big feather bed, her head bent and her eyes downcast. She paused to slip into her linen robe before retreating to the door.
Duncan hadn’t intended for her to continue with the household chores. He had planned to find something for her to wear, so they could go riding together, but her insistent questioning had shattered his good mood.
What did sh
e want from him?
He didn’t understand her behaviour. She had a new carefree air, as if the worries that had weighed her down earlier had dissipated during the passionate night spent in his bed.
Duncan sighed.
There could only be one answer.
Katrina thought he’d marry her now, and regain his title and wealth. Perhaps she had worked as a lady-in-waiting in an affluent household, and now had a hankering to be the lady that others waited upon. That would explain her educated manners, and her poverty and lack of kin that contradicted the impression of high birth.
His mouth tightened with distaste.
She would soon learn that feminine manipulation was wasted on him.
* * *
‘Please, Agnes.’ Katrina directed a pleading look at the stout woman dressed in a plain brown gown. A guardian of propriety and virtue in the household, Agnes had given Katrina a withering glance instead of a greeting when delivering breakfast and finding her in Rothmore’s bed.
‘I need four sheets of parchment, and a quill and ink, but I don’t want to steal from the master,’ Katrina explained. ‘Could you provide them for me?’
‘You can write?’ The housekeeper’s eyes grew round.
‘Yes. But please, don’t tell anyone. Not yet.’
Agnes propped her hands at her waist and glared. ‘You aim to wed the master?’
Katrina smiled at the older woman’s phrasing of the question, as if the outcome depended solely on her intentions. The amusement eased her hurt over the curt dismissal Rothmore had given her that morning.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I aim to wed him, although he may take some convincing.’
‘Good.’ Agnes gave a vigorous nod. Then her expression softened. ‘The master needs some affection, and I have a feeling you might be the one to give it to him.’
‘I’ll try, but it is essential that I send two letters. Can Jackson take them to the village and find a messenger, after I have finished writing them?’
‘I’ll tell him.’ Agnes sighed. ‘I guess you can’t pay for the messenger?’
The Virgin's Debt Page 4
