Too Wicked to Tame Read Free Page B

you are a shrew,” he chuckled against her ear, the sound oddly pleasant.
    “Because I do not take insults kindly?”
    “No, because nothing but vinegar flows from your lips.”
    “Then I shall spare you further ridiculous conversation,” she retorted, hot indignation stinging her cheeks.
    He chuckled again, the sound rich and throaty as he pulled her even closer. His hand shifted, sliding beneath her cloak to splay against her rib cage indecently. A circumstance she might have objected to could she break her self-imposed vow and speak. Instead, she endured his nearness in silence and denied that her heart raced at the feel of his big hand resting scant inches from her breast—denied that his touch sent waves of heat through her otherwise freezing body.
    Iago trudged along at a sedate pace, stumbling occasionally in one of the many water-filled ruts in the road. Distant cracks of thunder shook the air. The din agitated Iago, eliciting distressed whinnies.

    Behind her, his deep voice hummed gentle murmurings to the volatile stallion and did strange things to her insides.
    “Something tells me you’re unaccustomed to holding your tongue.”
    She jumped, taken aback at the sound of that velvet voice addressing her and not the horse.
    “I don’t mind. Talk,” he murmured and his hand moved again, closer to her breast, his thumb almost grazing the underside. “I enjoy listening to your voice. So proper. Clipped but soft.
    Almost breathless, like your corset’s laced too tight.”
    Portia sputtered. Heat scalded her face all the way to the roots of her hair. He dared make mention of her undergarments? Her outrage mounted as he added, “You know, I could loosen it for you.”
    “You—you beast!” she cried, struggling out of the shelter of his cloak.
    Iago stepped into another rut and they plunged off balance. Portia shrieked and slid off his lap, nearly plummeting to the ground below. A firm arm wrapped around her middle. She dug her fingers into a taut, straining forearm.
    “Stop your caterwauling,” his harsh command rang out. “You’re frightening the bloody horse!”
    Biting her lip against another scream, her fingers clawed their way up his forearm to his biceps, desperate to keep from falling. Suddenly the horse reared.
    And she was falling. With him. Her fingers didn’t release their death grip on his arm as they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Chapter 3
    For a long moment, Portia didn’t move a muscle—couldn’t. Partly due to the large man sprawled atop her, and partly due to the shock of finding herself submerged in mud. Again. At this point, she wondered if she would ever be clean and dry again. Muck coated every last inch of her.
    Turning her head, she watched the horse flee down the road, reins whipping wildly in the wind.
    “Where’s he going?”
    “Home.”
    “Home,” she echoed, looking up at him.
    His face hovered above hers, the chill of his ice-gray eyes the only color in his mud-covered face. If possible, those eyes made her even colder.
    “Yes, several miles from here,” he bit out.
    “Oh, brilliant,” she exclaimed. “Splendid horse you have there!”
    “Nothing is wrong with Iago.”
    “No?” she countered, feeling herself start to shake with rage. “He abandoned us.”
    “With a shrieking witch on his back, I can hardly blame him.”
    “What kind of horse can’t withstand a little noise? A first-rate mount can ride into battle with cannons firing—”
    “A cannon, he could tolerate. A loud-mouthed shrew is another matter.”
    Chest heaving, she shoved at the big body covering hers. The action forced her deeper into the wet, yielding earth. “Care to get off me?”
    “With plea sure,” he spit out, pushing to his feet.
    It was with some satisfaction that she saw he was as filthy as she. He speared her one last fulminating look before turning and stalking away.
    “Where are you going?” she shouted, struggling gracelessly to her feet—nearly