Free Island Flame by Karen Robards Page A

he’d had a blow like that to the head, he would no longer be any threat to her!
    “That’s torn it, you little hell-cat!” Jon roared, making a lunge for her. The book bounced harmlessly off his muscular chest. Before she could launch another missile his arms closed around her, squeezing like a boa constrictor until she could hardly breathe. Cathy kicked and clawed at him, but only managed to bruise her bare feet on his hard legs. Her nails had more success, scraping down the side of his face before he jerked his head back out of reach. She fought frantically as he half dragged, half carried her across the room, screeching hysterical curses at him. He seemed unimpressed by her vocabulary. Cathy screamed in earnest as he jerked the quilt from her, leaving her totally naked in his grasp. Teeth bared and nails flaring she reached for him but was left holding air as he twisted her effortlessly around. Before she knew quite what was happening he was sitting in one of the wooden chairs with her upended and furiously squirming across his lap, her long wet hair trailing the floor and her bare bottom wriggling ingloriously.
    “I think it’s time you learned a few manners, my lady,” Jon snarled, and took a hard swat at her heaving backside. Cathy gasped as his hand found its target with all the force of a bullwhip, then screamed as he spanked her again and again. In a short time she was reduced to hiccupping sobs.
    “Let me go, you filthy swine,” she managed with creditabledefiance, but his hand thudding down hard on her buttocks refused her even that small measure of pride.
    “From now on, you’re going to do exactly as I tell you, right?” he questioned grimly, his hand hovering over her tender flesh.
    Cathy said nothing. The hand stung against her bottom in a resounding slap.
    “Right?” he asked again.
    “Right!” Cathy screamed furiously, mentally condemning him to all the tortures of hell. He’d be sorry for all the indignities he was forcing upon her! She had her pride, and she would see him dead at her feet if it was the last thing she ever did!
    “Who’s your master?” he went on.
    Cathy hesitated. She couldn’t, simply could not, give him that satisfaction. Jon whacked her again, harder than before, and Cathy shrieked with pain and humiliation.
    “I’m waiting,” he said ominously.
    “Oh, you are, you bastard!” Cathy sobbingly hurled the admission at him and braced herself, sure he would beat her even more for her phrasing. But to her surprise he let her go, shoving her off his lap contemptuously as he stood up.
    “See that you remember it,” he growled, and went to retrieve the chamber pot from where it had landed beside the door. When he picked it up he saw that it had broken cleanly in half. He regarded it grimly, then turned to survey the havoc in the cabin. Water stood in a lake around the half-empty tub, and the bar of soap lay forlornly beneath the table. The quilt was wet and lay in a soggy heap of color near the bunk. Cathy huddled on the floor where he had pushed her, her knees drawn up in front of her and her arms wrapped around herself to shield her bodyfrom his gaze. Her eyes blazed with hatred as she glared up at him. Jon smiled menacingly at the feral picture she presented. By God, it was time the vixen was tamed!
    “Get up!” he snarled. Cathy looked at him mutinously.
    “I won’t!” she hurled back.
    “I said, get up!” Jon thundered, his voice cracking like a whip. Cathy glowered at him, prepared to defy him further, but what she saw in his face dissuaded her. He looked ready to strangle her if she disobeyed him.
    “I can’t. I—I don’t have any clothes on,” she muttered sullenly, not quite daring to openly contradict him.
    “If you don’t do as I tell you, right now, I’ll make you very, very sorry. And that’s a promise.” His voice was deceptively soft, but Cathy could see a muscle twitching angrily at the corner of his mouth. As she looked at him he took