Gallant Waif by Anne Gracie (the alpha prince and his bride full story free .txt) 📗

come in here and dress you myself.” There was a hard glitter in his eyes that suggested he was not jesting.

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Just try me, missie!” he snapped. “You have half an hour.”

He left the room.

Kate locked the door firmly after him and sat down on the bed. He’d thrown down the gauntlet and naturally she’d picked it up. It was time Jack Carstairs learned once and for all that he was not her master. He had no authority over her whatsoever. If she didn’t choose to wear these clothes, she wouldn’t, and no bossy great interfering man would tell her otherwise.

A little over half an hour later there was a knock on her door. “Who. . .who is it?” Kate called, annoyed at the involuntary quaver in her voice.

“It’s me, miss, Millie.”

Kate unlocked the door. “Come in, Mil—”

Millie stood twisting her apron nervously. Jack Carstairs loomed darkly behind her. Kate drew herself up straight and stared defiantly at him. He snapped his fingers at the maid.

Millie swallowed. “I’m here to collect your old clothes, miss.”

“That won’t be necessary,” replied Kate smoothly. Millie looked doubtfully back at Jack. “But Mr Carstairs—”

“Mr Carstairs has nothing to do with it, Millie. My clothes belong to me, not Mr Carstairs.”

“Excuse me, Millie,” said Jack softly. He moved past her and approached Kate determinedly. Mistrusting the look in his eye, she skipped around to the other side of the bed. He opened the door of the wardrobe and started to drag her old clothes from it, tossing them to Millie.

“Stop that at once!” snapped Kate, outraged. He ignored her and moved next to the chest, which he similarly emptied into Millie’s waiting arms.

“How dare you?” cried Kate, and ran to restrain him. He whirled and took her shoulders in a firm grip. Their eyes locked for a moment. Slowly his hands slid down her arms and he held her wrists in a light but unbreakable grip.

“Let me go, you big bully!”

“I thought I made my instructions clear to you before.” He looked meaningfully down at the shabby old dress she was still wearing in defiance of his orders.

Kate’s mouth grew dry. He could not surely mean to carry out his threat to dress her in the new clothes himself? She struggled to escape, but to no avail. He was a very powerful man and she had no hope of pitting her strength against his.

“That will be all, Millie,” he said.

“Don’t leave, Millie,” cried Kate.

“I said, that will be all, Millie. Take those rags outside and burn ‘em. Carlos has a fire ready.”

“Burn them?” The Reverend Mr Farleigh’s daughter was appalled. “But that’s a shocking waste of perfectly good clothing—”

He snorted.

“But it is,” she persisted. “I am very sure that the vicar’s wife would be glad of them for some of her poorer parishioners. You have no idea how difficult it is to ensure that people are adequately clothed.”

He raised an ironic eyebrow. “Believe me, Miss Farleigh, my appreciation of that particular problem grows hourly.”

Kate stamped her foot in frustration.

Jack grinned. “Take ‘em to the parson’s wife, Millie, with my comp—” he glanced at Kate’s face and changed his mind “—with Miss Farleigh’s compliments.”

“At least leave me one of the old dresses,” Kate cried. “I cannot possibly carry out some of my duties in such elegant outfits as those.”

“What sort of duties do you mean?” enquired Jack silkily.

“Well, things like scrub—” Kate floundered to a halt and glared at him, realising the full extent of his trickery.

“Exactly,” he concluded, enjoying his victory. “Take ‘em out, Millie.”

Millie did not dare disobey. “I’m sorry, miss,” she muttered, casting a sympathetic look at Kate. She left, taking Kate’s clothes with her.

Kate struggled in Jack’s grip for a moment longer and then changed her tactics. She held herself stiffly and forced herself to meet the angry blue eyes.

“Unhand me, sir,” she demanded, her eyes glittering with haughty indignation.

“I told you,” he grated. “You had half an hour. The time is up.”

“How dare you steal all my clothes?”

“Not quite all, I think.” He glanced down at the dress she was wearing. “I did warn you.”

At that she started to struggle again, but he effortlessly held her arms behind her and then held them in the grip of one large strong hand. She was pressed hard against him, chest to chest. She could feel his heart thudding. He seemed to be breathing rather harder than usual.

“And now, Miss Katherine Farleigh,” he said softly, his breath warm against her ear, “will you agree to accept these clothes from my grandmother or not?”

“No, and you cannot make me!”

“Oh, no?” His free hand went behind her and to her horror she felt his hand tag free a button at her neck. He looked at her, and one long, strong finger gently stroked the soft skin of her nape. Kate stared defiantly back, struggling to maintain her composure, willing her body not to respond to the delightful sensation.

He undid a second button and waited, stroking, circling, smoothing her skin. His eyes darkened. His body seemed to surround her and it took every bit of Kate’s self-discipline not to lean into him. And he knew it, the beast, she told herself, desperately resisting the tiny seductive caresses. His tactics were utterly unfair, totally despicable, Kate decided, so she tried to kick him. Her legs were restrained by the pressure of his powerful thighs. He reached for the third button, but Kate had had enough.

“Yes, all right, then, I accept the clothing,” she snapped, adding under her breath, “You big bully!”

He heard her and chuckled. “This time, Miss Farleigh, I believe brawn has won the day.” He released her and stood back triumphantly. “You’d better mean it,” he added, “for if you defy me once more—”

“You need not go on about it so—I gave you my word,” she muttered crossly.

“So you did.” His eyes mocked her anger.

Kate glared at him, wishing she could think of something—anything to wipe that infuriating grin