Ruthless Read Online Free

unwanted tinge of pity for Ragnhild swept his
mind, for her first husband had obviously been a man of a different
sort—one of refinement.
    He passed through a door on the right side of
the bedchamber into the lord's solar. Its furnishings were much
like the previous room. Without the bed, from the looks of it.
Blackbriar must have had a master carpenter.
    Noting another connecting door, he went over
to turn the handle. Locked from the other side, it did not open.
Curious, he went out through the door leading onto the landing and
found another entrance ten paces away. The women's hasty exit had
left the door ajar.
    Inside was a smaller bedchamber, equally as
neat. Surely the Lady Muriele's room. Had she reason to lock her
door into the solar? 'Twas not surprising. Baldor had likely wanted
both mother and daughter. Bright-colored smocks and kirtles spilled
over the sides of an open chest. Others strewn about the floor
looked as if someone searched for a particular garment but did not
find it.
    Beside the bed stood a small table cluttered
with the many things all women liked. Ribbons shimmered in a silky
heap, and without thought, he picked them up. Enjoying the silky
feel and the sight of the brilliant colors, he spilled them from
one hand to the other. He gently put them back where they had been,
then studied the small bits of jewelry beside them. Naught but some
ornaments with small combs attached to sweep hair off the face,
several decorated circlets to place around the head and a pewter
pin with a likeness of Blackbriar etched on it. He twirled it
around and around, before deciding it likely held a lady's draped
plaid to the shoulder of her kirtle.
    A stoneware pot painted around the outer
sides with birds of brilliant colors caught his eye. He found it
filled with a soft soap smelling of fresh apples and spices. He
closed his eyes and breathed in the scent.
    An image of the girl formed in his mind. A
graceful lass lounged back in a steaming tub as her long, elegant
fingers scooped out a portion of the soap.
    He pictured her as she lathered moist, naked
breasts, stroking her nipples 'til they hardened and jutted,
awaiting the next touch. Her head fell back spilling golden brown
hair over the tub's rim until it brushed the floor. When she opened
heavy-lidded eyes filled with searing passion, she reached out her
hand and beckoned to him. Water dripped off her arm and spilled
onto the floor. His stones grew heavy and heated; his cock swelled
and throbbed. As he pictured her naked woman's place framed with
golden hair floating in the clear, warm water, his demented cock
jerked upward and near bruised his belly.
    He snapped his eyes open to keep from
spilling his seed.
    Lucifer's horned balls! Too many days had
passed since he'd swived a woman. Frustration filled him, for he
would not allow himself to sample any of the women. What he denied
his men, he denied himself.
    He snorted. 'Twas not much of a sacrifice. He
didn't want just any woman. He wanted a woman with fine taste. One
of softness and beauty.
    Forcing himself to ignore his aching stones,
he went to the corner washstand. Pots and combs stood beside the
basin. A small clay bowl caught his interest. Inside, little
remained of a foul-smelling paste. His nose wrinkled. What was its
purpose? His answer came when he spied a comb stained brown with
the same mixture.
    Huh! The women had been wise. 'Twas why he
didna see their light-colored hair. He should have been more
observant and checked for such a ploy. He shrugged. No matter. They
would not live long in the wild.
    When he turned to leave the room, he
hesitated, looking at the soft finery strewn about the woman's
clothing chest. He turned to Sweyn, patiently waiting in the open
doorway.
    "Have a squire ask amongst the women and find
the ladies' maidservants. Have them gather the finery here. We will
take it back to Kinbrace."
    "What are we to do with Blackbriar when we
leave?" Sweyn appeared loath to hear Magnus'