Highland Captive. Hannah HowellЧитать онлайн книгу.
to Parlan made no difference.
Malcolm entered at that instant after a soft rap upon the door. “The laird wants his answer now, lass.”
She sat up slowly. “Does he now? Weel, mayhaps he can wait a bit more. Could give the big ox some much needed humility.”
“It isnae wise to make the laird wait,” Malcolm said as he barely restrained a grin, “nor to try his patience.”
“He sore tries mine,” she grumbled, rising to don her hose. “I dinnae ken what he needs me for. Surely a lusty wench with more flesh upon her bones would serve him better. I think the fool’s great size doesnae extend to his brain.” The last thing she wished to reveal was how Parlan’s desire for her thrilled her even as it puzzled her.
Looking at Leith, Malcolm received only a crooked grin. The girl plainly did not see how appealing she was to a man. Malcolm wondered if her total lack of vanity was part of her draw for Parlan. The laird had certainly known his fair share of vain women.
Answering Leith’s signal, Malcolm edged closer to the bed while Aimil continued to ready herself.
“Can ye nae talk the man out of this? She is a maid of good birth and doesnae deserve the shame he will bring her.” While Leith sympathized with Aimil’s reasons, he could not resist trying to stop her, even if obtusely.
“I tried but ’tisnae any use. The laird has the heat on him. Aye, I have ne’er seen it so strong. He will have her before she leaves here. This bargain is only to make the having come sooner for he feels she wouldnae be verra easy to seduce though ’tis a skill he has refined weel.”
“Nay, she would laugh at sweet words and warm looks. She sees them as foolishness and falseness.”
“So they ofttimes are. He willnae hurt her. Even though he sometimes doesnae like the woman, he treats her gently. He doesnae hold with treating the lasses rough. Ye ken as weel as I do that many another man would have tossed her down and had at her before now, hostage for ransom or not. ’Tis seen as a right, a right won by capture.”
“Aye, ’tis true, but I will still kill Parlan for the shame he deals her.”
“Ye can try. Aye, he kens ye will when ye get all your strength back. It matters not. As I said, he has the heat upon him.”
Deciding she had dawdled enough, Aimil moved to take her leave of her brother. Malcolm went to wait by the door, allowing the siblings a moment of privacy. She bent to kiss Leith on the cheek, glad to feel that, although still a touch warm, he had already lost most of the searing heat of fever.
“Dinnae fash yourself,” she murmured. “If it is too big, I will lop a bit off.” She smiled with relief when he chuckled softly.
“I willnae worry. My mind is set upon making him pay for this. ’Tis all I can do for now. I am not one to fret over that which cannae be changed.” He patted her hand. “Have no hesitation about coming to me to talk if ye feel the need to. Ye ken that there is little ye cannae talk of with me.”
Leith watched her go with Malcolm and sighed. He had meant what he had said. To lie there seething would be an exercise in futility, and he was not a man to indulge in that. He would save his anger for when he was well and free. Then he would put his anger into action. Although he was sure he would be awake all night wondering how Aimil fared in the hands of their captor, if she would find the pleasure she sought or only abuse and shame, his body ruled, forcing him into the healing folds of a deep sleep.
It was not easy for Aimil to quell her nervousness when Malcolm left her alone with Parlan. She may have chosen to come to him, but what she now faced was new, unknown, therefore frightening. As she sought to restore her calm, she studied his quarters. Heavy drapes kept out the chill, and a large fire aided while also controlling the damp that too often plagued a keep. The furnishings were simple but strongly hewn. Rich carpets kept the cold from one’s feet. The focal point of the room was the massive oak bed, high and enclosed with rich velvet hangings, drawn back at the moment. It was somewhat barbaric in appearance.
Quickly she turned her gaze to the man who leaned against a bed post with an indolence she knew was false. He wore a heavy robe and, she suspected, little else. The lingering wetness of his long hair told her he had recently bathed. She did not know whether to be flattered by his efforts on her behalf or piqued that he was so confident that she would come to him.
“I had begun to wonder if ye had decided to gift me with your horse.”
“When pigs crow the coming day.”
He grinned. “Have ye made a close study of all that is impossible?”
Shrugging, she eyed him intently. “I dinnae suppose ye may have changed your mind.”
“Nay. I was determined to have ye as soon as I kenned ye werenae a child too young for the having.”
Inwardly, she sighed with relief. “Leith will kill ye for this.”
“I would think less of him if he didnae try. ’Tis the reason I will try not to kill him when he makes the attempt.”
Even though she suspected his confidence in his ability was well-founded, his arrogance annoyed her. “He could weel kill ye.”
“That is a chance. A slim one though.”
“I think ye have far too high an opinion of yourself.”
Her last word ended on a squeak as he scooped her up in his arms and gently deposited her on the bed. It astounded her that such a large man could move with such silent speed. When he partially covered her body with his own, she shivered slightly. His large, strong body made her feel very small and very fragile, yet she was not really afraid. Instead, she felt the desire she craved to taste eke into her veins.
“Dinnae be afeard of me, sweeting. I mean only to pleasure ye,” he whispered, brushing soft kisses over her cheeks.
“Pleasure yourself, ye mean,” she grumbled, but felt an odd tingling where his lips touched her skin.
“Aye, but ye as weel, Aimil. Just relax and give yourself over to me.”
“I will give ye naught.” She hoped he believed her protests for she had no wish to let him know she was there for reasons other than his bargain.
“Oh, ye will, Aimil Mengue.” He trailed kisses down her nose to her mouth. “Aye, ye will.”
When his lips brushed and nibbled at hers, she almost sighed. It was very nice, conjuring up a pleasant warmth within her. Soon her mouth itched for something more, and she felt her hands creeping to his broad shoulders. When his tongue probed for entry, her eyes flew open in surprise for she was unsure of what he was doing.
“Part your lips for me, sweeting. I crave the honey of your mouth.”
“There is none there. My teeth are rotted and oozing.”
Parlan laughed softly. “Such a liar ye are, Aimil Mengue. Part your lips.”
Another shiver tore through her when his tongue eased between her lips to caress the inside of her mouth. Each kiss grew hungrier. He paused briefly between each, letting her catch her breath while teasing her slim throat with gentle kisses. She burrowed her hands into his thick hair even as her body arched, seeking his. The slow warmth that had begun in her started to grow. Tender noises of pleasure escaped her as she succumbed to the heady persuasion of his kisses. The sudden removal of her shift broke through the fog he had created in her mind.
“Nay,” she protested in a soft, husky voice, trying to cover her breasts with her oddly limp arms, embarrassment dimming her growing passion.
“Aye,” he growled as he gently tugged her arms away to gaze at her breasts with ill-concealed hunger. “So lovely.”
Her body bucked slightly when his tongue flickered over each taut nipple. Pure white heat shot straight to her loins. As his hands cupped and fondled the soft flesh, his kisses touching their every curve, she