Read Keegan's Lady for Free Online Page B

and fro. As Keegan had instructed, Patrick had been released.
    For an instant, she considered running. But she quickly discarded the idea. It would be a simple thing for hint to have his men string her brother back up, and she didn't doubt for a moment that he would do just that.
    "Having second thoughts?" he asked, disgust evident in his voice. "I didn't figure an O'Shannessy would keep her word. Like father, like daughter?"
    The comparison cut Caitlin to the bone. Keegan turned as if to leave. Her heart went into her throat. "Wait!" She grabbed his sleeve. "Please—I just—don't go yet, please."
    He turned back slowly, one dark eyebrow lifted in an unspoken challenge. "Don't play games with me, sweetheart. Trust me when I say I've played with the best of them. You don't stand a prayer."
    Caitlin had never hated anyone as much as she did Ace Keegan at that moment. Tears gathered at the back of her eyes. What remained of her pride burned them away. The bastard. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
    The smell of hay and horses closed in around her. Determined now to meet his gaze without flinching, she applied herself to the simple task of untying the sash of her wrapper. Only, of course, the task wasn't simple since her fingers had gone numb with terror and her hands were shaking.
    As if to better enjoy the display, he nudged his hat farther back and went to stand against the opposite wall. Caitlin almost wished he would move back into the stall doorway. Maybe then she wouldn't be tempted to bolt. But, oh, no. It was almost as if he wanted her to run.
    Loosely folding his arms, he crossed his lean legs at the ankles, the toe of one gleaming black boot buried in the straw. With an expression of such bored disinterest that she wondered why he had suggested this proposition in the first place, he awaited the unveiling.
    Frustrated by the stubborn knot she'd tied in her sash, she finally had to break eye contact to look down, and even then, her fingers refused to cooperate. She gave the sash a frantic tug.
    "Would you like some help?" he asked drily.
    Caitlin tried to speak, but her voice threatened to quaver so badly she decided against it. By digging in hard with her fingernails, she was finally able to loosen one loop. Seconds later, the tails of the sash finally slipped apart. Not allowing herself time to think and keeping her eyes averted from his to lessen the shame of it, she shrugged her shoulders and sent the garment sliding down her body toward the dirt.
    Now all that remained was the nightgown. With shaking hands, she began unfastening the row of tiny buttons that ran from just under her chin to her midriff. Acutely conscious that Keegan stood there watching her, she tried not to think about the moment when there would be nothing left to shield her from his dark gaze. Tried and failed. Her treacherous mind conjured awful images—of him laying those brown hands on her body, taking her, hurting her. She didn't know which would be worse, the pain or the degradation.
    She had no illusions. Life had stripped her of those long ago. Gritting her teeth, still unable to meet his penetrating gaze, she resolutely worked her way down the row of buttons. As the last one fell free from its hole, her heart fell with it. There was nothing to do now but draw the nightgown off over her head.
    For Patrick. She would do it for Patrick. The words became a litany inside her mind. She crossed her arms over her body and grabbed handfuls of the unstarched cotton. Cool air touched her ankles, then her shins. Oh, God. As the material inched upward toward the apex of her thighs, she squeezed her eyes closed again. To her shame, hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn't notice, that God would grant her at least that much.
    With no warning, hard, calloused fingers curled over her wrists, effectively halting the upward path of her arms. Startled, she forgot all about hiding her tears and looked