Highland Hawk: Highland Brides #7 by Lois Greiman Page A

own."
    He chuckled. "A wild pallet for a wild wench, I am thinking. But I believe myself up to the task of taming them both."
    He stepped forward. Catriona stepped back.
    She had dealt with intoxicated men before, and while they were often disoriented and ungainly, they were also sadly immune to good sense.
    "My lord de la Faire," she began, still holding the gown in front of her, "You should not be here."
    "You are right. I should be in yonder bed. I am certain that together we can wrestle it into submission," he said, and grinned crookedly at his own brilliant wit.
    "The truth is, sir, that I am a friend of the king."
    Nothing but a blank expression.
    "He is my guardian of sorts, and I would do nothing to cause him distress."
    "Ah, well, I will not tell if you don't," he said and stumbled forward.
    Catriona glanced sideways. She could edge along the wall and try to escape, of course. But there was little point of putting him between her and the door.
    Thus, she had no choice. She would have to dart into the hallway and hope she had a chance to wrestle the gown over her head before anyone saw her. One more tiny step backward and she eased her fingers onto the door handle.
    "But regardless if I tell James or nay, he will surely find out," she said, giving reason one last chance. "And he will be angry."
    Apparently those words managed to penetrate the Frenchman's foggy brain, for he stopped for a moment, eyeing her blearily. "So you..." He halted briefly and grinned. "You're laying the lad?"
    His accusation stunned her.
    "Nay," she rasped, but in that instant, de la Faire leapt.
    His fingers snagged in her chemise, tearing it out of her hands.
    Spinning around, she lunged for the door, but he grabbed her about the waist.
    She grappled wildly, trying to fight her way free.
    "Relax. Relax, little wildcat," de la Faire hissed. His arms wound tightly about her midriff, his hips pressed into her buttocks. "Do not fret." He swiped a kiss against her neck, but her hair was in the way. "I've no intention of ruining your place with the king. In truth, I rather like the idea of tarrying where His Majesty has been. And 'twill do you good to remember what it is like to be with a man fully grown." With those words he ground his member into her backside. She stiffened. "Feel that?" he crooned. "Big as a log, it is. I have been ordered to stay away from the stallions, lest I make them feel inferior." He laughed at his own humor. "Come now, lass," he whispered, and managed to plant a kiss on her neck this time. "Let us tame yonder wild bed."
    Squeezing her eyes closed, Catriona forced her muscles to relax, and her stomach to settle. "Are you certain James will not find out? He is so young and tender."
    De la Faire chuckled. "I am certain he has heard of my prowess," he said. "Surely he will understand your weakness."
    "I only hope you are right," she said, and snapping her knees up, thumped her feet against the door with all her might.
    De la Faire careened wildly backward, landing on his rump. She landed on his belly.
    The air whooshed from his lungs in an audible rush, and she scrambled away on all fours.
    But he was already after her. His fingers brushed her ankle. She squawked in bursting terror, kicked him in the jaw, and lunged forward. She couldn't reach the door and she knew it. Scrambling for her gown, she dipped her hand beneath it, found the knife, and spun toward him.
    He slammed into her, pinning her back against the wall and forcing the air from her lungs with the weight of his body.
    "My God, I love your fire!" he rasped. "You make me feel like a great destrier called to battle."
    "De la Faire," she said. Fighting for breath, she raised her hand just slightly. It shook like a reed in the wind, but her voice was steady. "If you do not loose me, you will look more like a lopped donkey than a horse of war."
    He chuckled. "I—" he began, but in that instant, he felt the prick of her blade against his groin. His eyebrows rose and