Prisoner of My Desire by Johanna Lindsey Read Free Book Online Page B

was like no manservant she had ever ordered. And that arrogance—she could not get it out of her mind that he was more than a serf, and although that should make this no worse, it did.
    And then she heard the scratch on the door and almost melted with relief that Mildred had finally come. She gave not another thought to the man on the bed, who had strained nearly every muscle in his body waiting for her to get to the point in her explanation. An explanation that was no longer forthcoming as he watched her rush from the room.
    Warrick collapsed back and growled in frustration. Damn her. “We must”—what?! Why could she not just spit it out? But then he forced himself to relax. He could not blame her. She was a delicate thing, ethereal in her beauty, and she had not put him here.
    He could not imagine for what reason she had been there, however, unless she had brought him food. He could see none left for him, but she could have set it on the floor. Yet she would not remove his gag, so how was he to eat it?
    Questions without answers. Patience. Whatever was wanted of him would be demanded soon enough, and then he could think of revenge, for whoever had ordered his capture, whoever was responsible, would die. It was his vow, sworn to God many years ago when his soul had shriveled and died from the devastation of his losses, that no one would ever do him an ill again without paying for it in kind or worse. It was a vow he had kept for sixteen long years,half of his lifetime. It was a vow he would keep till the day he died.
    The little wench intruded on his thoughts again, and he let her, for she was more pleasant by far than his dark musings. When he had first seen her, truly had he thought her an angel with her halo of golden hair glowing in the candlelight. All in white she was draped, and those flaxen curls cascading over both shoulders down to her hips.
    Her sapphire eyes had dominated her small face, large and round and beguiling, hiding secrets, hiding thoughts—until he had seen that spark of anger. It had aroused his curiosity almost more than the reason for his being there. He had had the ridiculous desire to play the guardian to this angel, to smash and utterly destroy whatever was disturbing her.
    He had wanted to ask her what caused her anger. He had tried to get her to remove his gag. Her refusal had surprised him, then annoyed him, enough that he had acted no better than a child in sulk, refusing to look at her again, refusing to acknowledge that she was even there. He thought now of what he had felt at the time and was amazed at himself. Truly, the wench had a strange effect on him.
    But he had not been able to ignore her for long. In truth, he liked looking at her, she was so pleasing to the eye, and that she would tell him what he needed to know had been his excuse to look at her again. But he had been struck anew by her beauty at the closer range as she had stood beside the bed. Her alabaster skin was flawless,her lips lush, inviting, and to his chagrin, his loins had begun to heat.
    He would have choked on his laughter if he’d given in to what he was feeling, but the gag that would have choked him had also kept him from seducing the wench to ride him while they were yet alone. But then bitterness reared its head to ask him, Why would she agree, when he was no more than a prisoner, and naked of his purse to offer her a coin? When he was released, he would see to the wench. When he was released, he would burn this place to the ground, so she would need another home. He would offer her his. He thought briefly of his bride, waiting for him even now, but that could not change his mind. He would still bring this wench to his home.

Chapter 8
    “So now you know,” Rowena said dejectedly, having finished telling Mildred the whole sordid tale of her husband’s death and her meeting with his substitute. “And Gilbert meant it, stated it plainly this time. Either I get myself with child, or he will kill my