Bride of the Beast Read Online Free Page A

beneath the weight of years.
    A great heaving began in the depths of her stomach, roiling waves of aversion, flaming hot one instant and bitter cold the next, but she remained standing tall. Unyielding, and hopefully not showing the dread Sir Hugh and his minions ignited within her.
    "You would be wise to remember I hold power of pit and gallows," he warned, at last returning his gaze to her face. "My authority extends over your dominions as well, Lady Caterine."
    His fingers still plucking at the globular pommel adorning the hilt of his sword, he shot another swift glance at his men. "Word has come to me that some females in your family carry the mark of a witch-woman. I am not disposed to examine you and see for myself if you bear such a blemish. Yet." He paused for emphasis. "Should you displease me fur—"
    Her restraint near to snapping, Caterine stepped forward, thrusting her face within inches of Sir Hugh's. "Would that I possessed such powers," she seethed, too riled to stay her tongue. "I-I'd turn you into a toad!"
    "I was not aware you possessed such heated blood," the earl crooned, a look of high amusement on his face. "Mayhap I shall enjoy sating myself on you after all," he taunted, his tone dripping bravado. "I am a man of great appetite."
    "I'd sooner face the pangs of purgatory than pleasure you," Caterine vowed, hoping he mistook the quaver in her voice for scorn rather than dread.
    "My lady will never grace your bed, sirrah!" Rhona pushed through the door opening to glare at the earl. " 'Tis spoken for, she is. A great Gaelic warrior will arrive any day to make her his bride. Her sister's husb—"
    "Rhona!" Caterine whirled on her friend, the remaining shards of her fast-slipping dignity smashed by the unexpected blow of Rhona's fool pronouncement. "Be still—"
    "I speak the God's own truth," Rhona cried, waving aside Caterine's objections. "My lady's sister is married to the MacKenzie of Kintail, the Black Stag, a much-feared warrior. He has negotiated a most agreeable marriage for my lady. She will wed the most accomplished knight in his garrison. A champion."
    All amusement vanished from the earl's face. "Is this so?" He stared at Caterine, his expression a strange mixture of anger and incredulity. "Would you dare defy Edward of England's wishes? He has vowed to bestow your hand upon an Englishman—upon me. He desires Dunlaidir safe, in English hands. 'Tis his behest."
    "Your king's desires are of scarce import to me, his be hests even less. I hold no allegiance to an English sovereign." Caterine's distaste for all things English churned wildly inside her. "Nor will I wed a Sassunach," she said, her pulse racing faster with each spoken word. "Not you. Not any man of that tainted blood. I would sooner rot away of the pox before I'd allow Dunlaidir to fall into English hands."
    "So you do mean to wed some Highland cateran?" Sir Hugh challenged her, his tone rife with autocratic vehemence. "Edward will be much displeased. I am displeased."
    Caterine pressed her lips together. The blackguard could take what answer he might from her silence. She'd get her own answers, from Rhona, as soon as the odious earl and his grim-faced poltroons removed themselves from her holding.
    Sir Hugh's heavy-lidded eyes narrowed to slits. "I do not believe you." His stare bored into her, relentlessly stripping away the last vestiges of pride she'd wrapped around herself in preparation of this latest confrontation with her foe.
    "I do not think you'd accept another husband, Englishman or Gael." His knowing gaze pierced the darkest hiding places of her soul. All vestiges of his earlier attempts at chivalry gone, he derided her, " Tis too dried up and pepper-tongued you are to give yourself to any man no matter his blood. Nay, I do not believe it."
    "Be gone and may the pestilence take you!" Rhona dashed forward, near shoving the earl down the stairs. "Go now lest I fetch a blade and run you through myself!"
    "Rho—" Caterine