Catrina lifted her chin and finished the introductions. “Kerr,” she said boldly.
Magge’s eyes widened, as expected. She looked from Bryce to Catrina and back again, as if trying to understand their relationship. Although she was his hostage, for some reason, he didn’t want Magge to know that.
“Lady Catrina is my guest. We make our way to Kenshire.”
Catrina’s eyes narrowed as she glared at him, but thankfully she remained silent.
“I see.” But it was clear Magge did not, though she made no further comment. “And I suppose you’ll be wanting rooms for the night, you big brute?”
Catrina eyed Magge curiously. “Aye, what do you have?” he asked.
“Only two rooms. One bed in each. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
“I’ll take both. Thank you.” He gave the innkeeper a kiss on the cheek. “And we’re not too late for a hot meal?”
Magge was already walking away, having spotted another traveler entering the hall. “Get yer men in here, Lord Waryn. And lock yer door this evenin’ unless you want an extra visitor.” She nodded to the maid filling mugs of ale, staring at him with moony eyes.
Bryce shook his head and guided Catrina to an empty table.
The hall was filled near to capacity. Candles stood on metal stands throughout the room. The only other light was from a fire, its smoke emptying into the night from an opening in the ceiling. The inn smelled better than most, its rushes regularly cleaned with herbs.
Bryce had joked once after stopping at the inn for a night that he wanted to make it his permanent home. But although Magge loved his family, she loved money even more. Since her husband died, she and her son managed The Wild Boar, but all knew it was Magge who kept the inn thriving.
Bryce sat next to his men, keeping as far away from Catrina as possible. If she had noticed he was avoiding her, she hadn’t made mention of it. Or seem to care.
Most women would be intimidated by the inn’s patrons or the aggressive flirtations of the serving wench.
But not this one.
Catrina ate the hot porridge as if it were her favorite meal. She laughed among his men and even spoke at length to Magge, when she returned, about the quality of her ale.
He tried not to look at Catrina but failed miserably. His eyes kept returning to her, unbidden.
“More ale, my lord?”
The press of the maid’s overly large bosom against his shoulder merely irritated him. And for a man who’d earned the nickname of ‘the Slayer,’ it was not a welcome revelation. She was more than passing fair, and though she flirted with all of the men throughout the meal, she paid him the most attention. But he was not interested.
“Aye.” Trying his best to concentrate on anything other than Catrina’s laugh, he turned to the girl despite his disinterest.
“What’s your name?”
“Helen, my lord.” She smiled, and he was surprised by her straight, white teeth.
“You’re new.” It was a statement, not a question. He’d been coming to The Wild Boar for years and had never seen her before.
“Aye, my lord. But not too new to know what I like.”
Her invitation wasn’t subtle. He had a room. There was no reason not to accept. But the thought of a tumble with the attractive serving girl left him cold.
“Not tonight, love.”
She filled his mug and lingered over his shoulder longer than necessary. He turned to dismiss her, but she abruptly winked and walked away.
He’d expected an argument and was glad to be left alone with his thoughts. Leaving the newly poured drink and his half-eaten meal, he stood and addressed Magge.
“Magge, dear—”
“My lord?”
“I wanted to thank you for a wonderful meal and bid you good eve.” “And?” Her partly toothless grin told him the innkeeper was wise to him. “Can you see Lady Catrina settled for the evening?”
She followed his gaze to where the woman in question continued to hold court with his men. Magge looked as if she wanted to question him further but thankfully decided against it.
“Aye. And your men are welcome in the hall, of course.”
“My thanks, Magge, but they’ve already set up camp nearby.” With a short bow, he left, intending to take a cold swim in the stream that ran behind the inn.
14
It was scandalous.
Even by her relaxed standards, it was…not the best idea for an unmarried woman to visit a man in his bedchamber. But, Catrina rationalized, she wasn’t exactly in a position to pick and choose her opportunities.
As much as she enjoyed the freedom of being outdoors—she had not realized how much she’d always taken freedom for granted until her confinement—the past few days had been extremely frustrating. After the torture of the first day’s ride, her bottom had become more accustomed to spending a full day in the saddle. The men who accompanied them had accepted her and treated her as one of their own. Although they were English, the knights from Bristol and Kenshire were very much like the men of her clan: sometimes crude, always anxious to hone their battle skills, and quick to jest with one another.
She would actually be enjoying the journey if it weren’t for one man in particular.
It had proven difficult to engage Bryce in conversation. They were always either riding or making camp. She’d approached him multiple times, and on each occasion, he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. Despite herself, Catrina’s heart sank when he turned from her.
During the day, Bryce rode at the front of the pack. In the evening, he took his meal alone in his tent. Whenever she managed to catch his eye, he looked away immediately. She thought they had begun to form a bond. Apparently not. And tonight, he had made sure to leave dinner early.
How could she possibly convince him to give up his quest for revenge and let her go if she couldn’t even get his attention?
Catrina knew she was running out of time. Her brother and his men would very likely be marching to Kenshire to get themselves killed
Washed and prepared for bed, it wasn’t until Catrina lay on the lumpy straw mattress in her room that she decided to act. Pulling out her only cloak from the bag at the foot of the bed, she shook out the soft wool garment and draped it around her shoulders.
Scandalous or not, she would speak to Bryce this night.
She peeked into the hallway. Aside from the bellows of the men below them, there was no other noise. The hall was indeed empty.
Was that a sound coming from his room?
She knocked.
A moment later, Bryce swung the door open. The wide-eyed serving girl who’d practically draped herself on him at dinner was once again hanging onto his shoulders. Catrina hadn’t considered that he might be with someone. The last thing she saw before she spun and ran back to her room was the grin on the beautiful girl’s face.
How humiliating!
She slammed the door, ripped off her cloak, and threw it onto the bed. She began to pace, heat creeping from her neck to her face.
The door opened and closed with nary a knock, and a bare-chested Bryce stood before her. The bedchamber suddenly felt even more confining. Aside from a bed, it contained only a chest and small table with a pitcher and basin atop it, but he filled up the small space with his mere presence.
Catrina took a step back. “I apologize for—”
“What were you doing in my room?”
He didn’t sound angry. Of course, she rarely knew what he was actually thinking or feeling.
“I…” How did she begin? There was so much to say, and the outcome of her life, her clan’s future, depended on these words. But at that moment she could not think.
Bryce’s hair was wet, his chest bare. He wore only thick woolen hose that outlined every muscle in his legs. She remembered how it felt to be pressed up against him.
“You’re rarely at a loss for words, Catrina.”
When he said her name, it felt like a soft caress. As if
he’d just reached out and run a hand along her back the way he had done at the waterfall.
“This isn’t a good time to talk.”
What could she have been thinking?
He took a step toward her. “And it was a good time a moment ago in my room?”
“Clearly it was not. Had I known you were occupied—”
“I didn’t solicit her presence. I was preparing for bed when she entered the room without solicitation.”
She didn’t care. “What does it matter to me?”
He took another step toward her. Catrina’s breath came in pants—as if she’d just run from Bristol to its village.
“I think it does matters. I think that’s why you’re so nervous.”
Damn him.
Another step. He was no more than an arm’s length away. She would not retreat. Not for any man, and certainly not for this one.
Bryce wasn’t as emotionless as he’d have everyone believe. His face was anything but neutral at the moment. It was filled with expression now.
With desire.
“What you do with the serving wench is none of my concern. For all I care, you can—” He closed the space between them in two strides and pulled her toward him in a crushing
embrace, melding his lips to her own.
Catrina couldn’t form another thought. She wrapped her arms around him, felt the taut muscles of his back, and marveled as they danced beneath her fingertips. His lips moved over hers expertly. Maybe too expertly.
His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she gave him what he sought. His hands held her head firmly against his mouth, as if worried she would break free. But she had no desire to be anywhere but here.
She wanted this. Him.
His hands lowered, moving down her back. “I want to see you, Catrina.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Aye.”
And in one fluid motion, he grabbed the hem of her chemise and lifted it above her head. She’d never felt so exposed in her life. Catrina had never imagined a man who was not her husband would see her in such a state. But she would not cover herself with her hands. This man she hated for wanting to destroy her family, for keeping her against her will…
He looked at her as no one ever had before.
And she quite liked it.
Catrina was magnificent. Undoubtedly, she’d never stood naked before any man, but she held her head high. Her eyes dared him to criticize.
Which he would never do. Hers was the most perfectly formed body he’d ever had the pleasure to look upon. It was madness to reach for her, to slide his hand down her arm, but her full breasts invited his touch. His palm grazed the curved mound of her breast as it made its way even lower.
He should not be here with this woman. Bryce knew he was taking advantage of the fact that she had no chaperone, something no gentleman should ever do. Their situation was beyond unconventional.
She was his captive, dammit.
But his body didn’t seem to care that she was a Kerr. Every time Catrina walked into a room or rode close to him, he could think of nothing else. That was why he’d kept his distance from her.
It had been a torturous day watching her sweet bottom bounce up and down on Davie—listening to her laugh with the men when he wanted to be the one to make her smile so sweetly.
He moved closer, continuing to revere the soft flesh beneath his hand while reclaiming her lips. This time, his movements were slow. Deliberate.
His mouth moved over hers instructively. He wasn’t sure when he’d made the decision to please her, but that’s exactly what he was determined to do. Bryce wasn’t so naive as to believe he could lie with Catrina, no matter how much they desired each other. He’d not dishonor the lady by spoiling her chance at a good marriage. Not when he knew it was something she wanted desperately.
But to fight the desire that sparked between them? When the serving wench had brazenly entered his room—he’d forgotten Magge’s warning to lock his door—Bryce couldn’t have been less interested. She was beautiful, aye. But her hair wasn’t a shade between red and brown. Her eyes didn’t sparkle with mischief and intelligence.
She wasn’t Catrina.
And then, before he could send the girl away, she had knocked at his door. Come to him. He didn’t know why. And at the moment, he didn’t care. Bryce only knew he wanted her, or at least wanted a taste of her.
His hands caressed Catrina’s backside as his tongue continued its slow assault. He wanted—needed—to make her cry out in pleasure.
Her soft moans encouraged him. Bryce lifted her onto his hips, her strong legs straddling him without any prompting. He carried her to the bed and lowered her without quite letting go. She was poised beneath him now, and he lowered himself onto her to reclaim her full lips. He brushed away a stray strand of her long hair and ran his tongue along her bottom lip.
“I’m going to pleasure you,” he murmured against her neck. She answered with a sigh.
He sat up, still straddling her, and looked down. The core of her womanhood was on full display. Rock hard and close to losing himself, Bryce found it hard to believe the position he found himself in this night. The same woman he had fantasized about for the past two evenings, longer, now lay beneath him. Naked. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined.
He didn’t care who she was.
Sliding his hand down her neck, he caressed her soft flesh and made a slow, winding path down to her breasts. He wanted to stop there—take a full mound in his hand, tease its taut nipple—but instead he moved lower and ran his fingers over the smooth flesh of her stomach.
Her eyes widened even more as she realized where his fingers were venturing next, but she didn’t flinch. This woman was fearless.
His hand found its mark. Every instinct told him to thrust inside, but she was an untried maid. So he kept his hand there, not moving, and listened instead to Catrina’s uneven breathing. He closed his eyes, afraid to disgrace himself. Not since Huntington, where he’d first learned how to please a woman, had he felt so little control.
He slowed his racing heart the same way he would before battle. Taking slow, even breaths, he forced his body to obey. Finally, he opened his eyes and slipped a finger inside her. Catrina’s gasp told him what he’d already known.
He would make her first sensual experience a memorable one.
She stared into his eyes, not saying a word. She bit her bottom lip, and Bryce tried not to look down at her body splayed beneath his own. He was having a hard time maintaining control. At first she clenched tight against his finger, but he could finally feel her relaxing against him. So he started to move, slipping a second finger inside. Catrina closed her eyes then, and Bryce was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.
The bed was small and uncomfortable, but he did not care. Catrina tilted her head back, her moans making him impatient to show her more. To pleasure her fully. He quickened his pace, pressing with his palm and willing her release.
His cock throbbed, his hose the only barrier that would keep him from taking what wasn’t his. Bryce concentrated instead on giving Catrina a powerful climax, and when he felt her wetness beneath his hand, he leaned down to capture her moans. He kissed her deeply, his fingers still within her. He could feel her hardened nipples beneath his chest and didn’t know how much more sweet torture he could take.
But he wasn’t done yet.
What the hell was that?
Catrina knew she played a dangerous game. But from the moment Bryce opened her door, all thoughts of revenge and persuasion had fled her mind. Because she had known…down to the inner recesses of her being…something wonderful was about to happen.
She didn’t know what exactly. She didn’t care. Though the thought of Graeme, who’d so patiently waited for her all these years, flitted through her mind, she wasn’t actually betrothed to him. Was it still a betrayal? Would she have even considered such a thing if she were a man?
Catrina had watched her brothers�
�� antics, listened to their talk, for enough years to know about the pleasure that awaited her. Bryce’s kisses confirmed as much. And though it was wrong—very wrong—for Bryce to be the man she desired, Catrina was no longer willing to fight it.
She would make him see reason…but not now. Now, she wanted to concentrate on how he made her feel. On the muscles in his chest and arms. On his fingers inside the most intimate part of her body.
She had never thought a man could make her feel this good.
Better than good.
She knew he was watching her closely, but Catrina couldn’t look at him. She could hardly concentrate on anything other than the building feeling of…something. Arching her back, she pushed him even deeper inside her, driven by the hunger for more, more, more. She felt the wetness as his fingers glided in and out.
And then he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the thrust of his fingers. She was undone. The pressure forced her hands to clench, to grasp him tightly. She throbbed against his fingers. The feeling was…indescribable. Her whole body pulsed, wild and uncontrolled.
She didn’t want it to end.
Bryce pulled away and looked at her. Still stoic, but not as cold as usual. His bright eyes didn’t flinch. He was waiting for something. What?
“How do you feel, Catrina?”
“I…that’s not what I came to your room for.”
His lips turned up into the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. His smiles were so rare. And impossible to resist.
“But I’m not sorry for it.”
“I don’t expect you to be, my Scottish lass.”
“I can see why they call you the Slayer.”
His smile faltered. His hand moved to her breast, cupped it, and stilled.
“And if it doesn’t please me?” His thumb ran across her nipple. He teased the hardened nub, squeezing gently. And by God if she wasn’t already getting that same feeling again. A tingling between her legs that begged for his touch.
“Since nothing seems to please you, my lord, I’m not sure it matters.”
He leaned down to her ear, his lips so close she could feel the feather-light touch of them. “That’s where you’re wrong, Catrina.”
The Lord's Captive (Border Series Book 2) Page 14
