Virginia Henley Read Free Page B

agreement.”
    With a straight face Patrick asked, “Do you mind if the lads look around? They’ve a keen interest in your cattle.”
    When the two men dismounted, the disparity in their height was marked. The earl was short of stature, and as Patrick followed him from the stable he tried not to stare at his bowed legs. Holy God, his mother must have rocked him on a barrel!
    When they reached the library, the earl sent a servant scurrying for whisky, and Patrick was thankful he had a hard head for liquor. They agreed on a price for a year’s protection for the vast herd, which numbered more than two thousand. “How and when did you start breeding the Seton longhorns, my lord?”
    “It was twenty-odd years ago. Lord John Spencer, an English noble with a large estate in Hertfordshire, came to look at my Highland cattle. He had some French Charolais that were good milk producers but didn’t thrive, and he was lookin’ to breed them with my sturdy beef cattle. Fortunately, they lent themselves well to crossbreedin’, and these unique longhorns were the result. The experiment turned out so well we both decided to breed them.”
    As Winton wrote out the agreement he became loquacious. “There was a price to pay. My daughter, Isobel, deserted me to become Lady Spencer. She’s not visited Seton once in over two decades.”
    “She must have found Hertfordshire to her liking.”
    “Wheesht, not Isobel! She cajoled him into buyin’ her a house in Richmond and used his sister’s connection as lady-in-waiting to Queen Elizabeth to get herself an appointment. She left John to his cattle breedin’ and deserted him for Court. When he died two years back I don’t think she grieved much. He was just a steppin’-stone to Isobel.” Geordie tossed off his second whisky. “My one great regret in life is havin’ no son, no male heir to inherit all this. My younger sisters have sons, but I was damned with only a daughter. God’s passion, but lasses can be a curse to a mon!”
    “Females will always take the bit between their teeth unless they are controlled with a firm hand.” Patrick signed the agreement and pocketed half the fee. The other half would be paid if the Seton longhorns went unmolested for a year. Satisfied with the morning’s business, he bade the earl good-bye and left him to his whisky and his regrets.
    As Patrick entered the stable to get his horse, a cat crossed his path, and suddenly the dark interior became illuminated by a dazzling light. The vision that appeared before him was a female in full, naked glory. She was standing before a mirror, which presented him with an unimpeded view of both her back and her front at the same time. She was small, with a tiny waist and delicate limbs, yet the swell of her lush breasts told him she was a woman full grown. He gazed at her alabaster skin with the admiration of a man who truly appreciated female flesh. When he finally raised his eyes, he saw that she was not completely naked, after all. She wore a frilly white neck ruff that emphasized the exquisite beauty of her face and contrasted with the profusion of black, shining curls that were piled high on her head.
    Patrick stared in fascination, missing no finest detail. Her heavy lashes formed dark shadows on her cheekbones. When she raised them to examine herself in the mirror, he saw that her eyes were the color of amber with glittering gold inclusions in their depths. For one brief moment her eyes looked directly into his and left a physical impact. Not only did his heart miss a beat, but his unruly cock began to throb as it hardened and lengthened.
    His hot gaze slowly lowered, licking over her delicious curves like a candle flame, and came to rest on her round bottom. He suddenly blinked in disbelief. At the top of her left bum cheek sat the image of a saucy black cat. “A tattoo, begod!”

Chapter Two
    W hen Catherine looked over her shoulder to view the reflection of her back in the mirror, she gasped.