The Road to Rowanbrae by Doris Davidson Page B

comfortable here.’
    â€˜It’s nae bad,’ she said, modestly. ‘Jockie usually let me see his things the time the tea was maskin’.’ Lifting his pack from the floor, he laid it on the table and opened it up. ‘This is the very best Valencian lace.’
    â€˜I canna afford to buy naething like that, for we’re croftin’ folk, an’ I havena got naething to spare for fancy frills.’
    He turned the full power of his magnetism on her. ‘You don’t need anything to set off your beauty, but let me show you.’ Taking the roll out, he held a length of it against her neck, the touch of his fingers making her skin tingle. ‘You’re like a princess,’ he sighed, his eyes coming to rest on her bosom.
    She smiled nervously. ‘You’ve never seen ony princesses.’
    â€˜You’re just what I picture a princess must look like.’
    She was fully aware that the flattery was to persuade her to buy, but it was good to be flattered, however insincerely. ‘Weel,’ she said, having asked the price, ‘just gi’e me half a yard, that would be enough.’
    â€˜Enough to go round the neck of a nightgown,’ he agreed, his hand brushing against her again as he took the lace away. ‘I wish I could see you wearing it when you’ve sewn it on.’
    â€˜Och, awa’ wi’ you,’ she giggled, quite embarrassed.
    â€˜Come closer and I’ll show you what else I have.’
    Unsuspecting, she moved nearer, and was startled when both his arms went round her, but the hypnotising entreaty in his dark eyes kept her from pulling away.
    â€˜What’s your name, princess?’ His voice was soft and low.
    â€˜Mysie,’ she said, shyly, and was instantly ashamed of it. ‘I was baptised May.’
    â€˜May suits you much better. Well, my little Princess May, how about a kiss now we’re so close?’ She shook her head weakly, but he kissed her anyway, a kiss that transported her to another world and made her forget her husband, her dead child, even Doddie Wilson. ‘You must have been starved of love, Princess May,’ he said, in a moment, ‘but Larry Larry can put that right.’
    â€˜Is that your name?’ She had never heard it before, but he wasn’t from round here, and the English had some funny ideas.
    â€˜I was christened Lawrence Lawrence, but I’m usually called Larry Larry, sometimes even Double Larry.’
    Pulling her to him, he ran his hands up and down her spine while he kissed her, then, sure that the right moment had come, he turned her sideways to cup her breast, and Mysie, putty in his hands, didn’t try to stop him. For some time, he took full advantage of her obvious naivety, murmuring sweet nothings as he stroked and fondled and kissed, until he judged that it was safe to proceed a little further. ‘What a tiny waist you have,’ he murmured against her neck. ‘I can nearly span it with my hands, my lovely Princess May.’
    She didn’t understand that it was reaction to Jamie’s death that was heightening the effect this man had on her, that and the emotions that Doddie had set loose at the meal and ale. She was grain ripe for harvesting, and Lawrence Lawrence from Yarmouth was more than willing to be the reaper. Manoeuvring her on to the hearthrug, he pushed her skirts aside, smothering her with kisses all the while to stop any protests she might make, but she was drowning in a sea of wonderful, unfamiliar sensations and had no inclination to try to save herself.
    In the circumstances, the seduction practically amounted to rape, but, very shortly, Mysie Duncan knew an ecstasy she had never known before, and she didn’t come to her senses until it was over. ‘You shouldna ha’e daen that,’ she gasped.
    Larry Larry smiled. ‘You didn’t stop me, and you enjoyed it, didn’t you? Tell the truth now, Princess