Page 58 of A Touch So Wicked

Damian stifled a smile. “There you have it, Lady Kimbra. We shall certainly endeavor to obtain your favored drink in the future.”

Kimbra pointed a finger at Elissa. “I demand that you punish her for her disrespectful behavior.”

“What do you suggest?” Damian asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Kimbra sent him an engaging smile. “A good beating should put her in her place. You need to set an example for the other Jacobites, my lord.”

Damian’s temper dangled by a fragile thread. “I’m endeavoring to get along with Elissa’s kinsmen and you’re not helping. I need them to make Misterly prosper. Not even your wealth will help if there is no one to work the fields, reap the crops, and tend the sheep. You must learn to get along with these people, for they are now your people.”

Kimbra reeled back as if struck. “My people? Hardly, my lord. These peasants are beneath me.”

Damian reacted spontaneously. Grasping her arm, he pulled her away into an alcove where they could be seen but not heard.

“Am I beneath you, my lady? Do you consider me inferior to your London swains? I am master here. You will not tell me what to do.”

Damian saw her eyes widen, heard the breath catch in her throat, and felt her fingers dig into his shoulder. But instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer. He gave a snort of disgust, suddenly aware that she was aroused. He had stirred her to passion when he’d hoped for anger, or at least fear.

“Damian, Damian!” she panted. “Oh, God, you’re so masterful. I love strong men. Take me to your bedchamber and make me yours. Now, please, my lord.”

Before Damian could respond, she pulled his head down and pressed her lips against his. Curious, Damian let her kiss him, wondering if her kiss would affect him in the same way Elissa’s did. He’d tupped countless women, shared numerous passionate kisses, but only Elissa made him yearn for something deeper.

Oddly detached, Damian felt nothing but mild disinterest for Kimbra’s kisses. His first thought was that she knew more about kissing than a virgin ought to. Her wicked little tongue probed his mouth as if she knew exactly what she was about. Despite her best efforts, Damian remained unmoved. He broke off the kiss and stepped away.

“Damian, please,” Kimbra pleaded, “don’t you want me? We’ll be married soon, what does it matter?”

“I am but protecting your good name,” Damian hedged. “My wife must be above reproach.”

That seemed to mollify Kimbra, for she favored him with a sultry smile. “Four weeks seems like a long time, but perhaps it will be worth it.”

“Shall we discuss your behavior today?” Damian asked, adroitly changing the subject. “Making enemies of the Frasers will hardly endear you to them.”

“Perhaps I would be more inclined toward tolerance if you sent Elissa away.”

“I will think on it,” Damian replied in an effort to placate her. “Meanwhile, perhaps you’d like to inspect the keep. ’Tis quite impressive despite its great age. I’ll explain the improvements I intend to make as we tour the various chambers.”

Kimbra wrinkled her pert nose. “Some other time, perhaps. If your cook can prepare something to tempt my delicate appetite, I should like to eat. I’ll send Daisy to the kitchen to instruct your staff as to my likes and dislikes.”

“I’m sure they’ll do their best to accommodate you,” Damian said, backing away. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I have accounts to go over with my steward.”

Elissa couldn’t hear what Damian and Kimbra were discussing, but she and everyone else had seen what had taken place in the alcove. The kiss Kimbra and Damian had shared spoke volumes. The passion behind the kiss had been so potent Elissa half expected Damian to drag Kimbra posthaste to his bedchamber. The lady had certainly looked willing enough.

Elissa was more than a little surprised when Damian abruptly broke off the kiss and strode away, leaving Kimbra looking bemused and smugly satisfied. Elissa braced herself when Kimbra sauntered up to her, a condescending smile on her lips.

“I’m hungry,” Kimbra said. “A light lunch will do. Poached fish, vegetables seasoned with a hint of rosemary, and freshly baked bread. Honey instead of butter. See to it at once.”

Elissa was tempted to tell Kimbra to go to hell, but wisely held her tongue. Trouble now bore a new name. Lady Kimbra Lancaster.

The hall buzzed with activity as Damian took his place at the head table that evening. Word had circulated that Lady Marianne would make an appearance in the hall and her kinsmen were eager to see for themselves how their former chieftain’s lady was faring under Damian’s care.

Then Lady Kimbra strolled into the hall and conversation halted. Suddenly she became the center of attention. The elaborate court gown she had chosen for her first meal in the hall was cut low over her breasts and richly adorned with lace and ruffles. Damian thought the ostentatious display far too elaborate for the occasion and vowed to school Kimbra about proper country attire. It was unconscionable to flout one’s wealth when these people had been stripped of everything but their pride.

Damian stood courteously when Kimbra appeared; then he stepped forward, offered his arm, and seated her on his left.

“I hope the food tonight is better than what I’ve been offered so far,” Kimbra commented. “I had to make do with smoked salmon and those dreadful oatcakes for lunch. I fear my delicate stomach won’t tolerate such heavy fare.”

“I’ve found the cooks at Misterly quite satisfactory,” Damian defended. “Take your likes and dislikes up with Sir Brody.”

“Hiring a French chef will be my first appointment once I’m Mistress of Misterly,” Kimbra purred.