Cait and the Devil by Annabel Joseph Read Free Book Online Page B

sir.”
    “And Cait ,” he added, tilting her face up to his. “I expect to see you in the hall this evening sitting at my side, no matter how much the sitting hurts . Do not think for a minute of testing me and not being there.”
    “No, sir.”
    He looked at her another long moment, and she wasn’t sure what she read in his eyes. She still saw anger. She didn’t know why. He said he was no longer angry with her, that afterward all would be forgiven. Perhaps he assumed she was terribly disobedient and expected her to disappoint him soon again. Well, she wouldn’t. She would be the perfect wife. She would do whatever she had to do, whatever it took, if she could only get him to hold her like a treasure again.
     
    * * * * *
     
    It was absolutely intolerable what the girl did to his mind, not to mention the more sensual regions of his body. He pressed his cock in frustration. Down, boy. Not now. Not ever. He had no sympathy for her. He’d suffered at least as much as she had from the spanking, probably more.
    He had work to do. He had to get his mind off her, but he’d see her at table. He decided that every day he would spend time with her at the evening meal. That would have to be enough. It would be safe; there would be nothing harmful he could do to her within sight of the entire hall. Time together with him would soothe her insecurities as a wife. He would give her his undivided attention, ask her about her day, gently touch her hand, share his cup with her. It would have to be enough. It was all he could safely give her. It would have to be enough for them both.
    He thought for the millionth time that he ought to move her to a different bedroom. As it was, she was far too near. He fought the urge every night to stride through her door and drag her back to his bed. Or take her right there in her little maiden’s bed. What difference did it make as long as he was buried deep inside her? No, no, no, no, no.
    There were other ways to be inside her. He would need to teach them to her soon or else risk going mad with lust for her, or risk getting her with child, which he wasn’t going to do. Soon he would have to teach her, when the drive, when the desperate need wasn’t so strong and he could be certain of staying in control.
    Spanking her bare bottom hadn’t helped matters. Even now he was replaying her punishment again in his mind. The lovely cries, the hapless kicking and squirming and struggling against him. The tensing of her supple, round, perfectly shaped buttocks—it was a miracle he hadn’t come in his trousers from administering the punishment. And for some godforsaken reason, he’d walked the horse back to the grounds at slower than a snail’s pace just to feel her fidget and shift in his arms. She was a sickness. Torture, plain and simple. She galled him and stole his reason and peace of mind.
    He threw his energy into his duties and expended all his frustration on the practice fields where his men noticed a new edge to his fighting. He stayed longer than he should have, and found himself without much time to bathe before the dinner hour. To make matters worse, Henna came in to attend him, taking the opportunity to pour recriminations in his ear.
    “Duncan! What are you about now?” she lectured as she scrubbed his back. “She’s upstairs crying on her bed looking as forlorn as a lost lamb!”
    “What did she tell you?”
    “She wouldn’t say a thing, but I can see she’s hurtin ’. What did you do to the poor wee lass?”
    “The poor wee lass disobeyed me directly and taunted me from the top of an apple tree. She got her bottom spanked for it.”
    Henna gasped in outrage.
    “You didn’t!”
    “I did, and I will again if she won’t stay safely by her guard. She knew the rule as well as the consequence, Henna, so keep your judgments to yourself.”
    “Well, I didn’t raise you to be one of those who hurts a weaker creature than yourself, I really didn’t! Especially a