Part 3 (2/2)

”What a perfect gentleman!” Jamie declared, his narrowed gaze more bloodthirsty than admiring.

Emma bowed her head. ”When I declined, he patted me on the hand quite fondly and urged me to seek out my fiance and beg his forgiveness before it was too late.”

”But you didn't,” Jamie said. It was not a question.

She shook her head ruefully. ”Perhaps it's just as well because as it turned out, it was already too late. Little did I know that my fiance's pious facade hid a vindictive nature. He engaged a solicitor and sued my father for breach of promise. The settlement came close to casting us all into debtor's prison and the scandal destroyed any hope I had of ever making a decent match as well as casting a shadow over my sisters' prospects. No man wanted to risk being publicly humiliated as I had humiliated poor George. Unfortunately, George's tongue turned out to be nearly as virulent as his temper. He wasn't content with the monetary settlement so he spread rumors that my friends.h.i.+p with Lysander was more intimate intimate than it had been. He didn't precisely ruin my reputation but he certainly succeeded in casting a shadow of doubt over it. The sort of shadow designed to discourage all but the most ardent of suitors. And since there were none of those...” than it had been. He didn't precisely ruin my reputation but he certainly succeeded in casting a shadow of doubt over it. The sort of shadow designed to discourage all but the most ardent of suitors. And since there were none of those...”

”The unfortunate b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” Jamie muttered. ”It sounds to me as if you bruised his pride instead of breaking his heart.”

She shrugged. ”I'm afraid the result was the same. Papa started drinking more heavily and gambling more frequently. He rarely came home before dawn, if at all.” She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the m.u.f.fled clatter of her father's footsteps on the stairs, the raised voices that would come from her parents' bedchamber while she and her sisters huddled beneath the blankets in mute misery, pretending to sleep. ”Papa has always had a fondness for cards, but I think he deluded himself into believing he could restore the family's fortunes at the gaming tables. Of course the exact opposite was true. He ended up squandering what remained of our meager resources, leaving us at the mercy of his creditors.”

Jamie's brow darkened further. ”And leaving his daughter at the mercy of a randy auld goat.”

Emma turned on him in frustration, surprised to find herself trembling with a pa.s.sion she hadn't allowed herself to feel for a very long time. ”You have no right to pa.s.s judgment on my father! Not when you've proved yourself only too willing to trade women for gold.”

”All I know is that I'd never allow my my daughter to pay off my debts in the bed of a mon like the earl!” daughter to pay off my debts in the bed of a mon like the earl!”

”Regardless of what you believe, my father is not a bad man, simply a weak one,” Emma said, echoing the refrain she'd heard fall from her mother's lips a thousand times since she'd been a little girl. ”He is not to blame for any of this. It was my my indiscretion that destroyed my family's fortunes and their good name.” indiscretion that destroyed my family's fortunes and their good name.”

”Indiscretion? Is that what an English la.s.s calls it when a man winks at her from across a crowded ballroom? Or when he dares to touch her gloved hand while helping her into a carriage? Everyone knows Englishmen have lukewarm tea running through their veins, not hot, pa.s.sionate blood. Why, I'd be willing to wager this silver-tongued young suitor of yours wasn't even bold enough to lure you into some moonlit garden so he could steal a kiss!” Jamie's gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there just long enough to make them feel warm and overripe.

”He most certainly did steal a kiss!” Emma informed him, resisting the urge to cool her lips with the tip of her tongue. ”Not in the garden but in the alcove of Lady Erickson's town house. When no one was looking, he pressed his lips against my wrist in a shockingly bold manner.”

”Forever ruining you for any other mon, no doubt,” Jamie retorted, the mocking edge in his voice sharpening his burr.

She stiffened. ”I was the one who ruined everything. I was the one who destroyed my family.”

”And now you've decided to atone for the sin of refusing to marry a mon you didn't love by marrying a mon you'll soon despise. You were naught but a child!” Jamie's green eyes flashed with fresh anger. ”A naive seventeen-year-old la.s.s who mistook a man's l.u.s.t for love and paid a costly price.”

Tamping down her pa.s.sions as she'd done ever since that day, Emma replied coolly, ”It was a mistake I have no intention of ever making again.”

Almost as if she'd issued a challenge, Jamie drew closer to her-dangerously close. Although he loomed over her in the moonlight, the threat didn't come from his height or his superior strength, but from the taunting tenderness of his caress as he reached to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, allowing the pad of his thumb to linger against the silky skin of her cheek. ”Once you marry the earl, you won't have to worry about it. You'll have neither love nor l.u.s.t to trouble you.”

There could be no denying the truth in his words. Once she became the earl's bride, she would never again feel her heart double its rhythm when a man walked into a room. Never feel a blush heat her cheeks at the mere mention of his name. Never feel a yearning ache deep inside her in antic.i.p.ation of his touch.

Like the ache she was feeling at that very moment as she gazed up into the smoldering frost of Jamie Sinclair's eyes.

Before she could heed the warning her heart was thundering in her ears, his mouth was on hers, moving over her lips with beguiling tenderness. He might look and behave like a Scots barbarian but he kissed like a prince. He gently feathered his lips back and forth over hers, knowing precisely how much pressure to apply to coax her lips apart, to entice her to relax her guard and allow his tongue to slip inside of her.

Emma had shuddered to imagine her first real kiss coming from the earl's dry, cracked lips. But it was a shudder of another kind that danced over her flesh as she allowed this stranger to lick deep into her mouth. She had never even dreamed of allowing Lysander to take such shocking liberties, not even when her every waking thought had been consumed by him and the future she had believed they would share, filled with chaste kisses and long walks through sunny meadows spent discussing the books they both loved.

There was nothing chaste about this kiss. As Jamie's tongue had its wicked way with her, her hands splayed once more against the muscled planes of his smooth, hard chest, her fingertips tingling as they grazed his pebbled nipples. It seemed she hadn't run far or fast enough after all. The shadows had finally caught up with her. As their seductive darkness enveloped her, she lost the urge to escape altogether, her body succ.u.mbing to a delicious languor that made it impossible to do anything but gently rock in the cradle of this man's arms.

She felt as if she was right back on that narrow ledge, on the verge of taking a fall that might shatter not only her bones, but her heart.

She might have been able to cling to a ragged shred of her self-respect if Jamie hadn't been the first to pull away. Or if she hadn't had to fight the shocking urge to tug him back down for another taste of his delectable mouth.

He gazed down at her, his thick, sable lashes veiling eyes nearly as wary as her own. If he had sought to give her a taste of what she'd be missing if she married the earl, then he had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. And if kissing her was his way of chastising her for her disobedience, then she had underestimated him. He was far more diabolical and dangerous than she had feared.

A ragged sigh shuddered from her lips. She forced herself to hold his gaze, keenly aware that her hands were still lightly poised against his chest. ”Was that my punishment for running away?” she whispered.

”No,” he replied, the grim set of his jaw making him look even more ruthless. ”That was my punishment for being fool enough to come after you.”

Before she could try to make sense of his words, he seized her by the wrist and began to haul her away from the bluff.

”Did you forget your chains or your rope?” she asked, her bewilderment giving way to anger as she was forced to take two steps for each one of his long, masterful strides. ”I'm sure you've pilfered your share of livestock in your day. I'm surprised you don't try to slap the Sinclair brand on me like some heifer or ewe that's strayed too far from its pasture.”

”Don't tempt me,” he growled.

”Have you even thought about the anguish you must be causing my family? Why, my mother and my sisters are probably sick with worry! And what about my father? What if this drives him straight back to the bottle?”

”Your devoted family didn't mind selling you to the earl. I'm sure they won't mind if I borrow you for a few days.”

Emma could feel her frustration-and her temper-mounting. ”If you don't let me go, I'll just run again. I'm not going to let some silly Highland feud destroy my family!”

Jamie stopped so abruptly that she nearly crashed into his back. He swung around to face her, his expression fierce. For a breathless moment, she thought he was going to kiss her again, or do something even worse. But he simply leaned down until his nose nearly touched hers. ”You know nothing of Highlanders or their feuds, la.s.s. You may consider it your duty to your family to run, but I consider it my duty to my clan to stop you. You might want to think long and hard before you go charging off into the wilderness again.” He raked his gaze down her with a bold familiarity that made her s.h.i.+ver anew. ”Because if you do try to run again, I just might decide your virtue is of more value to me than to the earl.”

Still holding her wrist fast, he resumed his unrelenting pace, leaving her with no choice but to stumble along after him or be dragged. He couldn't have made his intentions any clearer. The battle lines had been drawn. If Emma decided to cross them, she would do so only at her own peril.

JAMIE MARCHED ON, FIGHTING to ignore the p.r.i.c.k of his conscience. Emma had left him with little choice but to threaten her with the worst. It was a miracle he'd been able to pluck her off that ledge before it went tumbling into the gorge. If she tried to run again, he might not arrive in time to rescue her from some clumsy tumble down a ravine or hungry mountain cat. It made his blood run cold to imagine the sight that would have awaited him had he arrived at the bluff a few scant minutes later. to ignore the p.r.i.c.k of his conscience. Emma had left him with little choice but to threaten her with the worst. It was a miracle he'd been able to pluck her off that ledge before it went tumbling into the gorge. If she tried to run again, he might not arrive in time to rescue her from some clumsy tumble down a ravine or hungry mountain cat. It made his blood run cold to imagine the sight that would have awaited him had he arrived at the bluff a few scant minutes later.

He gave her hand an impatient tug. If she didn't step up her pace, he'd soon be hauling her dead weight up the mountain and all of his hopes for making it back to camp and stealing a few precious hours of sleep before the sun rose would be dashed.

When she stumbled into his back, nearly knocking them both off balance, he swung around, his exasperation on the verge of exploding into anger. ”d.a.m.nit, woman, if you don't pick up your-”

All it took was one look for Jamie to realize Emma hadn't deliberately been trying to slow their pace. She was swaying on her feet, her eyes half-closed. Even as Jamie watched, her knees began to buckle.

Cursing his own thick-headedness, he lunged forward, catching her before she could fall. When sweeping her up into his arms like a babe earned him nothing more than a slurred murmur of protest, he knew she was indeed spent and not simply trying to vex him by slowing their progress. Her eyes had drifted shut and her freckles were standing out in stark relief against her pallid cheeks. It was clear she couldn't continue, either on foot or in his arms. He had no choice but to make camp for the night.

He propped her limp form against a fallen log with painstaking care, then set about collecting enough wood to build a fire. Aside from the dense thickets of aspen and evergreen, there was no shelter on these lower slopes of the mountain, not even an abandoned barn or crofter's hut. He used the steel tinder he always carried with him to coax a tangle of brush into reluctant flame, then turned to find Emma still huddled there against the log with her eyes closed-plainly too cold, miserable and exhausted to do anything else. Her bonny gown was starting to look like the tatters of a cobweb; the soles of her slippers were worn bare in spots, exposing slender feet that were b.l.o.o.d.y and bruised.

This was hardly the wedding day-or the wedding night-any woman deserved. The la.s.s had gone utterly still except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, a fact that troubled Jamie even more than if she had still been s.h.i.+vering uncontrollably. A faint blue tinge shadowed her lips, those same lips that had warmed and flowered beneath his own only a short while ago, inviting him to explore the silken heat of her mouth.

As a surge of treacherous l.u.s.t shot through his body, Jamie raked a hand through his hair, hating himself for feeling so d.a.m.nably helpless. He was used to looking after his men, but they were a hardy lot, as rugged as a flock of mountain goats. They didn't need to be protected or coddled so much as herded.

He had gone charging after her without so much as a coat or cloak. All he had to warm her was the fire and the heat of his own body. But after being foolish enough to steal a taste of her lips, the last thing he wanted-or needed-to do was bed down with the Hepburn's bride for the night.

Chapter Eight.

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