The Intended by May McGoldrick Page A

her
quickly to her feet. Giving a soft command to enter, Jaime watched
as her maid quietly pushed the door open and limped into the room.
Caddy looked hesitantly at the conscious prisoner and then at her
mistress. Handing the unused dressings over to the maid, Jaime
turned back to Malcolm. He had a look of surprise on his face .
“I’ll leave you in Caddy’s care, for now. But I expect you to treat
her with respect. Do you hear?”
    A smile of amusement wrinkled the corners of
Malcolm’s eyes. “Are you telling me that these foolhardy English
dogs think me so weak that they will entrust me to this wee woman?
On her own?”
    “Trusting?” She scoffed in a hushed voice.
“Hardly. There are more than enough men outside guarding these
doors. And I’m quite certain that any one of them would be more
than pleased to finish the job their master started aboard that
French ship.”
    Jaime pulled the sheet up to Malcolm’s chin,
tucking him as if he were a bairn. “Stay right here for the wee
time it’ll take to regain your strength. You’ll have ample time to
show us your foolhardiness once you’ve healed.”

Chapter 12
     
     
    As the velvet of the dress pulled off her
shoulder, her breasts sprang free of the low neckline, and the
knight fastened his lips to first one nipple, and then the
other.
    Her moans were deep-throated, resonant with
desire, as she pulled at his hair with long, white fingers.
    “Take me,” she commanded, yanking his head
back and looking at him with eyes clouded with lust. “Take me
now.”
    “You’re a fool,” he growled, pushing himself
to his feet, his hands never leaving off of fondling her breasts.
The knight looked down at her moist lips, swollen from his rough
kisses. He knew he could not resist. “You heard the horns as well
as I. The hunting party will...”
    “Then stop talking,” she ordered huskily,
leaning forward and pulling at the laces that held his codpiece in
place. “I’ve waited too long...”
    His manhood, thick and hard, emerged from its
confines, and a tremble raced visibly through her as she took it in
her hands, stroking its length. The sound of horns again came
through the open window, this time they were only an arrowshot from
the palace.
    Catherine stood, a daredevil look flashing
into her eyes. “Come, my buck,” she enticed, pulling off her
starched linen cap and tossing back her hair.
    He dug his hands roughly into her waist and
turned her around, forcing her face and her exposed breasts down
onto the billowing mattress. Taking fistfuls of material in his
hands, he pulled the dress up, exposing her ivory legs and
heart-shaped buttocks. With a laugh, she tried to squirm around and
face him, but he wouldn’t let her. With one strong hand he pushed
her forward onto the high, curtained bed, and with the other he
tore away her linen underclothes. Then he stepped between her
legs.
    Catherine was ready for him, wet. She was
always ready, it seemed. Parting the folds of her womanhood with
the tip of his shaft, he felt the flush in his face and instantly
gave way to the primal animal urge that blocked out all thought,
obliterated all reason, all judgment. He drove into her with a
single powerful thrust, exulting in the gasping cry that emitted
from her lips.
    Holding himself perfectly still, the knight
clenched his jaw, waiting as she began to writhe beneath him, her
hips undulating as she sheathed him. He reached forward with both
hands, taking her golden brown hair in both hands and pulling her
head back and turning it until he could see her heavy-lidded eyes,
her mouth partially open, the tip of her tongue visible between her
full lips.
    With excruciating slowness, he slid backward,
pausing for only a moment before driving again into her. Again he
withdrew and again he plunged, his quickening pace matched by the
writhing motions of her hips. Faster and faster he thrust, her
cries growing in volume and pitch. But he could no longer hear her.
Aware only of the