Читать книгу The Heiress Bride - Susan Paul - Страница 10

“I’ll not take my clothes off just because you tell me to, Hugh Caldwell!”

Rosaleen backed away, looking wildly around for some heavy object to throw, but Hugh kept coming at her, slowly and surely.

“Don’t be a fool, Rosaleen. I’m not going to ravish you. I only want to put some of this salve on your back, and then I’m going to put you to bed.”

“Ha!” Rosaleen cried, bumping into a table as she moved around the small room. “You admit your evil intentions, you…you…lewd fiend!”

Hugh gritted his teeth and felt a headache coming on. He was tempted to throw the ointment the innkeeper’s wife had given him that morn right out the window. If he hadn’t known that Rosaleen was suffering badly after their day’s long ride, he would have done just that, without the least hesitation, but she was suffering and he was going to put the salve on her. The girl was too damned stubborn to know what was good for her.

Drawing in a breath, he tried to speak more calmly. “Be reasonable. Your back pains you, and you’re hungry, and you’re so weary that you’re about to fall on your face. Let me put a little of this on your back to give you ease, then I’ll go downstairs and fetch you something to eat while you get into the bed. How does that sound?”

Wonderful, Rosaleen thought, but that didn’t mean she was going to disrobe in front of the likes of Hugh Caldwell.

“I’ll put the salve on myself,” she countered, “and you may have one of the serving maids bring me something to eat.”

Hugh sighed, wondering if he’d ever met a more stubborn female in his life and realizing at once that he hadn’t. If he’d ever met a woman more exasperating than Rosaleen no-name, he never would have forgotten her.

“I didn’t bundle you into this inn in that heavy cloak for no reason at all, Rosaleen. If any of those men downstairs hear that I’m keeping a beautiful maiden in my room, I’ll end up having to kill half of them just to keep your precious virtue intact. I can’t take the chance of letting anyone see you, not even a maid. You understand that, do you not?”

A chill crept up Rosaleen’s spine. She hadn’t been able to make out much from the depths of the dark cloak Hugh Caldwell had made her wear into the inn, but she’d seen enough to know that the men patronizing the tavern were exactly the same sort who had accosted her two nights before.

“I understand,” she replied meekly.

“Good. Now take off your clothes and let me put this ointment on.”

Despite her weariness, Rosaleen hadn’t lost any of her fight.

“I’ll not, you lecher! You’re only doing this to take advantage of me!”

That was it. Hugh had had enough.

“If I’d wanted to take advantage of you, sweet, I would have done so last night when you were begging me to give you pleasure!”

Rosaleen gasped. “I never…I never did such a thing! You filthy beast!”

“Rosaleen,” he said in a low voice, advancing on her again, “I am tired, and I am hungry, and I want to go below stairs and have a welcome cup of ale, but most of all, my fine lady, I am past weary of being called every base name under God’s sun. Unless you want me to undress you myself you will remove…your…clothes. Now!”

His roar seemed to shake the whole room, and Rosaleen knew that she had pushed him too far. She had only seen such a look of fury on one other man’s face, and the last time she had defied her uncle he had taken a whip and beaten her. It was that memory that defeated her, and she bowed her head. With shaking fingers she began to unlace her surcot.

Damn, he was in a foul mood!

Hugh hefted his third tankard of ale and wondered what devils beset him so that he felt more sharply than ever the need to ease the bitterness that was his constant companion. If someone didn’t give him a good reason to release his fury soon he would have to seek out a fight himself, and that was always a nuisance.

He set the tankard down and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes.

Damn her! Damn her! It was that wretched female’s fault, every bit of it, and he only hoped she was as miserable as he was. God’s teeth, he was beginning to hate women, the fickle, useless shrews. There was only one thing they were good for, and the particular female he was stuck with wasn’t even any good for that.

Damn her…Rosaleen. He was miserable. He didn’t want to think of her, didn’t even want to think her name. He had lost his temper, he’d shouted at her, and the fight had gone out of her as though he’d actually struck her a blow. She’d started removing her clothing with trembling obedience, sickening Hugh with the realization of what he’d done and enraging him anew at the bastard who had abused her so badly. He’d made her stop when she’d gotten to her chemise, and then, feeling as great a bastard as her uncle, he’d carefully put the salve on without exposing her skin to his sight. She’d slid into the bed without a word after that, and when he had later taken her a tray of food, she had still refused to speak to him. He’d come downstairs feeling like nothing better than a great, hulking bully and had every intention of drinking himself into oblivion and then soothing his nerves with a good, vigorous fight.

His sharp eyes roamed the crowded tavern with acute skill, rapidly picking out the potential opponents to be had. Briefly, his eyes rested upon the full-figured serving girl who had earlier made him an offer he almost hadn’t refused. She caught his gaze and winked at him, letting him know that the offer was still open, and Hugh eyed her prospectively. She wasn’t a beauty by any stretch of the imagination, but she had a fine body. Her breasts were lovely, Hugh knew, for she had waylaid him in the shadows of the stairwell and displayed them quite prettily. They were made for a man to enjoy, just as the rest of her was, and Hugh was highly tempted.

Yes, indeed. Highly tempted.

And he needed something to take his mind off the morrow, for tomorrow he would finally see Hugo. After ten years…

Hugo.

He shut his eyes and felt himself plunging headlong into hell.

The next moment he shot off his stool and approached the biggest man in the room.

“Here, friend,” he said, tapping the man’s shoulder. “If your mother’s as ugly as you are, then she must be the finest bitch in the king’s own kennels.”

The unknown man roared his outrage, the sound of which was solace to Hugh’s ears. He clenched his fists and knew with contentment that for the space of the next half hour he would be able to banish every thought of Rosaleen, and home, from his mind.

The soft stroke of fingers upon her cheek wakened Rosaleen. It was dark in the room, but the light of the moon spilling through the shutters offered some visibility. Blinking, she tried to focus but couldn’t make sense of what was before her eyes. It was broad and solid and fleshcolored, and lightly sprinkled with hair. She blinked again, and again.

“Tell me that isn’t you, Hugh Caldwell,” she whispered, “lying in my bed as naked as the day you were born.”

His fingers continued to caress her, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, obediently, “It’s not me lying in your bed as naked as the day I was born.”

Slowly, her eyes moved upward to look into his face. He was smiling pleasantly, as relaxed and happy as could be, and Rosaleen forced herself to remain calm.

“What, may I ask, are you doing here?”

“Preparing to sleep, sweeting, and touching you.” His fingers ran lightly from her face down her throat and across the delicate bones of one shoulder. “Does this return memories, Rosaleen?”

It did, but the gentle touch of his hand made her tremble, and she was unable to speak.

She was as warm and soft beneath his fingers as Hugh had remembered her to be, and the stricken look in her eyes undid him.

“Yes,” he murmured, drawing closer. “Memories like this.”

His mouth closed over hers, and Hugh lost no time in pressing his tongue between her lips and into the welcoming warmth of her mouth. His arms enfolded her, careful of her healing back, and he pulled her against his painfully aroused body. She lay stiff and frightened for a long moment, and then, with a little cry, she gave way and set her arms around his neck.

“Yes, Rosaleen,” Hugh whispered, thrusting one leg between her thighs and drawing a moan from her lips. “Yes, love, like this. This is what we did with one another last night, and more. So much more. You’re remembering now, aren’t you, my sweet? You’re remembering the ways we pleasured one another.”

Rosaleen shook her head and tried to draw away from him. “No,” she murmured, unable to escape the heat of his hard body, of his mouth as it moved over her neck and shoulders, of his hands as they eagerly roamed her skin, pulling up her chemise and slipping beneath to caress her bare buttocks. He grasped her there, gently, holding her still as he rocked needily against her.

“No.” She pushed at him once more. “It was dreams. Dreams…”

“Not dreams, beautiful lady.” Hugh took one of her delicate hands and flattened it against his chest. “You touched me, and I touched you. Everywhere, love. Everywhere. Like this. Oh yes, little love, like this.” He kissed her again, deeply, and pressed her hand over his hot skin. “Remember, Rosaleen,” he commanded. “Remember the pleasure we gave one another. I didn’t take your maidenhead, but I gave you a sweet release, just as you gave me. You were so beautiful in my arms, so eager. I couldn’t help myself, darling. I couldn’t help myself.”

It was too much for Rosaleen, too overwhelming.

“Please, stop,” she begged. “Please, Hugh, don’t.”

She tugged frantically to make him release her hand, but Hugh was too lost in his passion to heed her. He dragged her hand down his body toward the place where he so desperately wanted her touch.

“Touch me, Rosaleen. Please, my beautiful sweet. Touch me with your soft little hands and take me to heaven, just as I shall take you.”

This was wrong, Rosaleen thought wildly, struggling. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

“No, Hugh! Oh God, don’t. Don’t”

He was so much stronger than she, and he was just drunk enough with both ale and passion to mistake her struggles and cries for pleasure. Gently but insistently, he wrapped Rosaleen’s fingers around him, and for just a moment Rosaleen stilled with the amazing shock of what a man felt like.

Then, frightened, overwhelmed and horrified at her lack of courage, she burst into tears.

Nothing else had penetrated Hugh’s passion-riddled brain until that moment, but her sudden tears worked on him like a bucketful of icy water. Shocked, he released her.

“Rosaleen! What—” He didn’t know what to think. One moment they’d been making sweet love and the next she was sobbing her heart out. “Did I—God’s feet, sweeting, did I hurt you? Your back? Did I…did I squeeze you too hard or…” He was at a loss, and Rosaleen only lay there, crying. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and she shoved it away. “Please, Rosaleen,” he pleaded. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Rosaleen was in a fury such as she had never before known. Even her uncle, at his worst, had never enraged her so greatly. She stopped her tears just long enough to glare at the man hovering worriedly above her.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, you lecherous beast! I’ve been molested by the greatest bastard in King Henry’s kingdom! That’s what’s wrong!”

Hugh was so shocked that he sat up, but not fast enough to avoid the stinging slap Rosaleen gave him as she shot out of the bed.

“Molested!” he shouted indignantly. “You were as eager as I, wench! Don’t try to deny it! And don’t you ever strike me again!”

“Strike you!” she screeched. “Strike you! By, God, Hugh Caldwell, I’ll do more than strike you! I’m no tavern whore to be tumbled whenever you please! I’m a lady, you spawn of Satan! A lady!” She picked up a pillow and began to hit him with it, hard and repeatedly, while she continued raging.

“You-” whack! “—bastard! I’ll—” whack! “-teach you to—” whack! “—touch a lady in such a—” whack!

“—crude manner! You—” whack! “—beast!”

Hugh held his arms up to counter her blows.

“Dammit, Rosaleen! Cease this!” Whack! “I said cease!” whack! “Cease or I’ll—” whack! “—turn you over my—” whack! “—knee!”

“I’d like to see you—” whack! “—do it, you rutting boar!” Whack! “Better men than you—” whack! “—have tried to tame me, you hound from hell—” whack! “—but I’ll bow my knee to no man—” whack! “—save the king—” whack! “—you randy satyr!”

Something that sounded suspiciously like laughter drifted up to Rosaleen’s ears, and two long, muscular arms reached up to grasp her, despite her efforts with the pillow. Hugh got a good hold on her, then tossed her to the bed, flinging the pillow away and pinning her beneath his body.

Rosaleen fought him, freeing one hand to hit his rockhard chest. “Let me go, you lecherous goat! Let me go!”

Hugh was laughing so hard he could barely speak. “R-Rosaleen! D-don’t!” He burst into another storm of laughter. “Stop it! S-stop, my 1-lady!”

“Oh!” Rosaleen cried, outraged. “How dare you laugh at me, you foul ravisher! How dare you!” She drew up a fist and hit his solid chest again, hurting herself more than him. “I hate you!”

Hugh tried to stop laughing. He tried so very hard, yet he couldn’t help himself. And Rosaleen didn’t help. He had never seen anyone more perfectly beautiful and selfrighteous in his life than she, outraged.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say, holding her tight even as she struggled against him. “No, ‘tis the truth I speak, Rosaleen.” He grinned into her furious face. “Last night you responded to me because you were drugged for your pain and hardly knew what you did. I assumed too much this night, thinking you would respond again just as readily. But I frightened you, did I not, my little innocent? You are but a maiden, and I have frightened you with my grown man’s desire.”

“You’re disgusting!” she said angrily. “You crawled into my bed to ravish me apurpose, even when you knew I wanted no such thing! Have you no morals at all?”

“Few,” he admitted honestly. “But I never would have taken your maidenhead, Rosaleen, I swear it. I wanted to share pleasure with you, sweeting, but I’d never do aught to hurt you.”

“You don’t think that what you were just doing hurt me?” she asked incredulously. “You were ravishing me!”

“That’s foolish,” Hugh replied, rolling away. “You’re too innocent to know what you speak of. If I’d been ravishing you, I wouldn’t have stopped, and I’d even now be mounted on your lovely body, taking my pleasure of you.” He stretched and yawned, then scratched his chest and settled beside her. “It’s over. Forget about it and get some sleep. We’ve a long day ahead of us on the morrow.”

“You can’t mean to sleep here!” she cried with disbelief, tossing off the arm that tried to crawl around her waist.

Hugh yawned again before answering. “Of course I do. Where else is there?”

She sat up. “God’s bones, man! You’ve the nerve of a devil!”

“Be quiet and go to sleep, Rosaleen.”

“Sleep! If you think that I’ll sleep in the same bed as you, Hugh Caldwell, then I pray you will think again!” Rosaleen started to get out of the bed but was stopped when a muscular arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto the mattress and up against the hard body she had only minutes before been touching with her hands.

She opened her mouth to scream, but Hugh’s other hand came up and firmly, though gently, closed over it.

“Rosaleen, my sweet,” he said patiently, “we are only going to sleep. You have made yourself clear about not wanting to share any pleasures with me. I’d be a fool to force myself on such an unwilling shrew, especially when England is filled with warm and willing females who would be more than happy to lie with me. Now be quiet and go to sleep, else I’ll tie you to the bed and place a gag in your mouth.”

“You’re naught but a brute!” she huffed when he released her. “And I wish you would stop touching me!”

Hugh was reminded of how he had intimidated her earlier and felt instant remorse. Pulling his hands away, he rolled to his back and heard Rosaleen shuffle over to the far edge of the bed.

“Yes, I am,” he admitted, pushing away the desire to apologize to her yet again. He’d only known the wretched creature a few days and he’d already apologized to her more than he could remember apologizing to any other person. “And I hope you’ll keep that in mind until I’ve got you safely lodged with my brother. I warned you before we set out that I’m no gentle knight, or any kind of gentleman. I dare what I please, Rosaleen, and I take what I want. Remember that.”

A loud silence prevailed, until Rosaleen said, “I hope whoever you fought with earlier was able to match you. Mayhap you’ll have some bruises to make you miserable for a while.”

Hugh closed his eyes and smiled widely in the darkness. It would have been impossible for her not to have heard the fighting that had gone on downstairs two hours before, when he had taken on more than half the patrons in the tavern. They had pretty well destroyed the place, as usual, but Hugh had paid the innkeeper more than the trouble was worth. When it had all been over and he’d felt thoroughly relaxed, Hugh had bought drinks all around and had gotten pleasantly drunk with his newly found mates before finally coming upstairs to Rosaleen. He hadn’t meant to touch her when he had first crawled into the bed, but she had looked so sweet lying there, like an angel, that he hadn’t been able to resist.

“He was,” Hugh admitted with easy contentment, “and I will.”

“You are crazed, my lord,” she said, yawning, “and I wish you the joy of your wounds.”

“Good night, Rosaleen.”

“Good night, you beast.”