Part 4 (1/2)
EMMA DRIFTED OUT OF slumber to find herself enveloped in a delicious coc.o.o.n of warmth. She was accustomed to waking up with Ernestine's cold feet pressed to her calf or Edwina's pointy little elbow digging into her ribs. This felt more like being bundled up in her favorite quilt next to a cozy fire on a snowy winter day. slumber to find herself enveloped in a delicious coc.o.o.n of warmth. She was accustomed to waking up with Ernestine's cold feet pressed to her calf or Edwina's pointy little elbow digging into her ribs. This felt more like being bundled up in her favorite quilt next to a cozy fire on a snowy winter day.
If this was a dream, she had no desire to wake. She yawned and wiggled her backside, snuggling even closer to the source of that seductive warmth.
She heard a pained grunt, dangerously close to her ear. Something hard and obstinately unyielding pressed against the softness of her rump, nudging her out of her drowsy stupor.
Her eyes flew open. Her heart stuttered into an uneven rhythm. It wasn't a pillow s.h.i.+elding her head from the hard ground, but a man's arm-well muscled and lightly bronzed from the kiss of the sun. Trying not to move or breathe, she slowly s.h.i.+fted her gaze downward. A matching arm was curled possessively around her waist.
As her dream turned into a nightmare, Emma lunged forward and gathered her breath to scream. A hand clamped over her mouth, m.u.f.fling the sound before it could escape. The arm around her waist cinched tight, forcing her back against her attacker's unyielding body.
He must have been awake all along, just waiting for this moment.
A helpless shudder raked her as Jamie Sinclair's husky whisper poured into her ear like a shot of warm whisky. ”Hush, la.s.s. I'm not going to hurt you.”
She remained as rigid as a board.
”Or rape you,” he added, his voice deepening to an impossible octave.
Emma squeezed her eyes shut, heat rus.h.i.+ng to her cheeks. She'd never heard such a shocking word on any man's lips. Where she came from, women weren't raped. They were compromised. Or ruined. Or were foolish enough to allow a gentleman too many liberties, or careless enough to take a wrong turn down a shadowy alley. Whatever grim fate befell them, it was always somehow implied that they'd had a hand in their own destruction.
When she remained frozen in his arms, Jamie must have realized his promise sounded less than credible with his rock-hard arousal still nudging her bottom.
His beleaguered sigh tickled the tiny hairs behind her ear. ”I know you don't know much of men and their ways, but this is a state they often find themselves in when they first awaken. It has naught to do with you.”
Even he didn't sound completely convinced. Oddly enough, it was the strained note in his voice that gave her the confidence to trust him. As she slowly relaxed into the warm cup of his body, he slid his hand away from her mouth.
He was right. She'd grown up with a mother, three sisters, and a father who had been absent more often than not in the past few years. She knew very little of men and their ways, and what she did know was becoming increasingly perplexing.
After an awkward moment of silence, her curiosity overcame her fear and she whispered, ”Is it painful?”
He pondered her question before quietly saying, ”At the moment, I believe I'd prefer a pistol ball between the eyes.”
”If you'll hand me your pistol, that could be arranged.”
She would have almost sworn she heard a rueful chuckle. As she wiggled cautiously around to face him, his hand drifted down from her waist, coming to rest lightly against her hip as if it belonged there. She gazed up at him in the murky half-light of dawn. The beard-shadow on his jaw had darkened during the night, giving him the lean, hard look of a pirate.
He really was an uncommonly beautiful man. For a common ruffian. Before she could stop the wayward turn of her thoughts, she caught herself wondering what it might be like to wake up in the arms of such a man every morning.
And to sleep in his arms every night.
His next words jerked her back to the reality of the cold, damp dawn. ”You were half-froze and d.a.m.n near to falling down from exhaustion last night. I had no choice but to build a fire and make camp for the night.”
”How very considerate of you,” she said stiffly, her tone implying the opposite. ”I suppose you had no choice but to cuddle me as well.”
His eyes darkened. ”I thought I made it clear last night that you have naught to fear from me on that account as long as you don't try to run away again.”
If that was true, then why did his touch leave her feeling as if she had everything to fear and everything to lose? ”You promised not to hurt me as long as the earl gives you what you want. But what if he refuses?” she asked against her better judgment.
Jamie's only answer was a tightening of his rugged jaw and a flash of something in his eyes that might have been regret.
BY THE TIME THEY reached camp, Jamie's men were just beginning to roll out of their bedrolls and mill about. Some scratched at their bellies or their heads while others stumbled off toward the shelter of the trees to relieve themselves. Emma hung back at the edge of the trees, watching their disheveled and b.u.mbling pantomime with a wide-eyed mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and horror. She was torn between giggling and clapping a hand over her eyes. Even at his most dissolute, her papa had always appeared at the breakfast table with nary a hair out of place. His purse might be empty and his eyes bloodshot from the ravages of swilling too much gin the night before but his waistcoat was always pressed and his cravat neatly tied. reached camp, Jamie's men were just beginning to roll out of their bedrolls and mill about. Some scratched at their bellies or their heads while others stumbled off toward the shelter of the trees to relieve themselves. Emma hung back at the edge of the trees, watching their disheveled and b.u.mbling pantomime with a wide-eyed mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and horror. She was torn between giggling and clapping a hand over her eyes. Even at his most dissolute, her papa had always appeared at the breakfast table with nary a hair out of place. His purse might be empty and his eyes bloodshot from the ravages of swilling too much gin the night before but his waistcoat was always pressed and his cravat neatly tied.
Given the amount of whisky she'd witnessed these men imbibing the previous night, she was amazed that any of them were stirring before noon.
A gangly lad with an untidy shock of saffron-colored hair paused in mid-yawn to send a curious glance their way. Emma clutched at Jamie's elbow, seized by a sudden wave of mortification. ”What about my reputation? If your men see us returning from the woods together, won't they imagine the worst?”
”They might,” Jamie admitted, a thoughtful look dawning in his eyes. ”But only if we let them.”
”I don't understand. How do we stop them?”
He shrugged. ”What better way to protect your reputation than to give you a chance to defend it?”
”Against what?”
”This,” he said, flas.h.i.+ng his white teeth in a lazy grin that set her pulse to wildly pounding. Before she could heed its warning, Jamie wrapped one arm around her waist and bent her back over his other arm, his lips laying claim to hers with a l.u.s.ty hunger that took her breath away.
Even through her haze of shock and yearning, Emma had to give him credit. It was exactly the sort of kiss a bandit might steal from the lady he had abducted. The sort of kiss a pirate might press upon a damsel's lips before forcing her to walk his plank. The sort of kiss the Lord of the Underworld might have thrust upon Persephone before carrying her off to his lair to introduce her to darker and even more irresistible delights.
By the time he allowed her a shuddering breath, she was dangerously near to forgetting all about the presence of his men. As well as her own name.
”Hit me,” he muttered against her lips.
”Pardon?” she gasped.
”Hit me,” he repeated. ”And make it convincing.”
As he leaned away from her, a smug smile curving his lips, Emma wanted nothing more than to seize him by the ears and drag his mouth back down to hers.
Instead, she drew back her fist and slugged him in the jaw hard enough to make him stagger.
She half-expected him to break his promise not to harm her by clouting her into insensibility with one of his big fists. But he simply c.o.c.ked one eyebrow, his expression bemused, and rubbed a hand gingerly over his jaw.
Emma's voice rose on a shrill note deliberately calculated to reach every eardrum within hearing. ”I don't know what makes you think I'd want to kiss a beast like you. Why, I'd be willing to wager you Scots treat your sheep with more respect than your women!” Turning slightly so that Jamie's powerful shoulders would block his men's view of her face, she smiled sweetly at him and added sotto voce, sotto voce, ”There... was that convincing enough?” ”There... was that convincing enough?”
The quizzical gleam in his eyes slowly deepened to an admiring one. ”A ladylike slap would have been sufficient,” he muttered. He leaned toward her in a menacing fas.h.i.+on and said in a booming voice, ”I'll have you know that our sheep don't require kisses when we're courting them. A simple pat on the rump will usually suffice.”
A choked hoot of laughter went up from one of Jamie's men. They had dropped all pretense of scratching and p.i.s.sing and were now standing goggle-eyed and open-mouthed, shamelessly eavesdropping on their exchange.
Emma rested her hands on her hips, beginning to get into the spirit of the thing. In happier days, she and her sisters had put on pantomimes and amateur theatricals for their parents each year at Christmas. At eleven, she'd made a very convincing Kate in The Taming of the Shrew The Taming of the Shrew opposite Ernestine's lisping Petruchio. ”Your sheep may find your crude attempts at wooing irresistible, sir, but I'll thank you to keep your filthy Sinclair paws off me!” opposite Ernestine's lisping Petruchio. ”Your sheep may find your crude attempts at wooing irresistible, sir, but I'll thank you to keep your filthy Sinclair paws off me!”
He leered down at her. ”It might surprise you to learn that I don't usually get any complaints from the ladies about where I put my filthy Sinclair paws.”
”Ladies? Ha! Ha! Barmaids and goose girls hardly qualify as ladies, especially not when you have to pay them with stolen coin to procure their good will. A true lady would never welcome the advances of a brutish, bride-s.n.a.t.c.hing barbarian such as yourself!” Barmaids and goose girls hardly qualify as ladies, especially not when you have to pay them with stolen coin to procure their good will. A true lady would never welcome the advances of a brutish, bride-s.n.a.t.c.hing barbarian such as yourself!”
He reached down to smooth a tumbled curl from her cheek, his fingers grazing her skin in a mocking caress. ”You can protest all you like, la.s.s, but I was only seeking to give you a taste of what every woman wants-lady or no. Something that withered auld bridegroom of yours will never never be able to do.” be able to do.”