Prisoner of Desire Read Free

the deeply arousing vision she was providing to the men in the room with her efforts. Her high, full breasts were straining against her clothing, bouncing from side to side as she fought with all the fury and desperation of a caged animal. Alasdair’s arousal spiralled sharply at the sight before him.
    ‘So, what is the meaning of the bonds, Douglas?’ Alasdair asked as he slowly approached the bed, staring hungrily at Isobel as she glared at him with that bitter, unrestrained fury smouldering in her blue eyes.
    ‘Our lady seemed rather reluctant, after your proclamation downstairs, to calmly await your arrival.’ Douglas’s face was distorted by a cruel sneer. ‘I thought it safer to ensure she was ready and waiting in your bed, Alasdair, than have her risk your displeasure by disobeying you further.’
    ‘A sensible precaution, Douglas, for you know all too well what a terrible temper I have.’ Alasdair had to conceal another small smile as his words clearly struck fresh terror into Isobel, for she momentarily stilled her movements and swallowed hard as she briefly met his eyes.
    Looming over the bed, Alasdair began to unfasten his clothing, his eyes fixed firmly on Isobel as he pulled his tunic and shirt away and tossed them forgotten to the ground. Before he had tied her up, Douglas had removed Isobel’s outer clothing – a fact that, to Alasdair’s great surprise, resulted in a sudden and sharp burst of jealousy within him.
    Fighting it back, he devoted his attention to Isobel once more, for the thin linen shift that was all that she now wore left very little to the imagination. It had ridden up her legs as she struggled against her bonds, for she had resumed her efforts as Alasdair approached her, and the dark circles and pointed nipples of her breasts showed through the fabric as she arched her back off the bed. Her breasts strained against the shift and filled Alasdair with a desperate urge to see them fully uncovered.
    Impatiently kicking off his boots, he reached for the waistband of his breeches and braies with fumbling fingers, and as he did so his arm brushed against the knife he had picked up in the hall. A wicked idea occurred to him. He smiled broadly as he extracted it and laid it on top of the sheets as he finished undressing.
    Isobel felt tears beginning to sting at her eyes, but the very last thing she wanted was to show Alasdair how afraid she was. Even as he climbed gracefully onto the bed and knelt next to her, entirely bare before her and very clearly ready to take all that he wanted to from her, Isobel refused to meet his stare, instead gazing stubbornly at the ceiling. A panicked gasp, though, escaped her despite her efforts as he raised the knife in one hand and straddled her body, reaching out to hold the gleaming blade against her throat as his other hand wrapped around the shaft of his pulsing cock, moving languidly back and forth.
    ‘Are you afraid of me, my Isobel?’ Alasdair was aware that the other men in the room were watching in fascination, all of them just as eager for him to reveal Isobel’s body to their eyes as he was.
    ‘N-no!’ she lied defiantly.
    ‘You should be, wench. I am a very dangerous man, and you have provoked my anger with both the way you dared to command Glen Carrick to stand against me, and the way that you are still fighting against me now, Isobel, despite the fact that your body so clearly longs for my touch!’ Alasdair shook his head reprovingly and drew the knife sharply downwards.
     

Chapter Three
     
     
    Isobel closed her eyes tightly in terror, but the expected pain did not come. Instead, she felt nothing but a rush of cold air across her bare skin as Alasdair sliced with the greatest of ease through the linen of her shift, exposing her entirely as he pulled the ruined material away and sat back to fully admire her.
    Sucking in a sharp breath, Alasdair instinctively thrust his hips forwards as Isobel resumed her desperate thrashing against