Despite his size and strength, he seemed now like a small boy begging for favors. His hand felt broad and powerful in her own. She lifted it to her lips, turned it, and kissed the underside of his wrist. A fine shiver shook his body. ‘Twas forever a mystery how such a man as he could be affected by her touch. It lighted a fire somewhere deep within her.
“Anywhere else?” she asked. Her tone was very quiet.
For a moment he didn’t speak, then, “There is me chest.”
While she unbuttoned his doublet, she kissed his throat. It seemed strange to her how even his neck could seem so entirely different than her own. Where hers was slim and long, his was broad and thick, heavy with muscle and sinew, and still dark from the walnut stain. She kissed him below his jaw, then between his tendons, and then in the warm hollow where his pulse beat strong and heavy.
His doublet fell open, and then his tunic, baring the broad expanse of his chest. Sweet Mary, it was a beautiful chest, carved muscle covered with warm, velvet flesh, and adorned with the amulet he had once again replaced. She slid her fingers up the leather strip to his collarbone, his shoulder, the hard, seductive slopes of his torso. He shivered when she touched his nipple, and when she kissed it, he jumped.
‘Twas all magic. Just the sight of him could make her blood course hot and fast through her veins. But more wondrous still was the fact that he could be what he was and still desire her. Slowly, gently, feeling every inch, every tremor, every ripple of muscle, she slid her hands down his sides. Her fingers trilled over his ribs, brushing his garments aside, memorizing his body, etching each moment indelibly into her mind.
His chest was hard, broad, scarred. She kissed the healing wounds one by one, then ran her kisses soft as Irish rain down his sternum. His belly was flat but for the hillocks of muscle above his hose. She kissed the muscles, the ribs, the scar that ran along his side.
With utmost tenderness, she kissed his navel. He reverberated beneath her, but now he was no longer content to remain as he was. He rolled her over with ease. Suddenly he was on top and kissing her. And in that moment, every aching need was transported to her kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her.
Roman growled against her mouth, but in a moment he pulled away to kiss her cheek, her throat, the high-pressed, aching orbs of her breasts.
She tightened her grip on his back and arched against him, desperate to have him completely. His hands were everywhere, restless, hot, titillating. She moaned, desire and agony warring in her breast. But now his lips were on hers again, searing away any hope of thought.
“I love ye.”
Tara sucked in her breath and lay still. He had uttered the forbidden words. “You’re wrong,” she whispered.
Holding his weight on his elbows, Roman looked down into her eyes. “‘Tis true. I love ye, Tara O’Flynn.”
“Nay.” She shook her head. Love muddled wits and slowed reflexes. And love between them … It could never be. They were worlds apart, just as her parents had been. “Don’t say that.”
He kissed her again, gently, tenderly. “I must, for it’s true. And, therefore, I canna let ye go to Dagger.”
“You’ve little choice, Scotsman, for I have the bracelet,” she said.
He eyed her bosom where he had seen her dip her hand “Give it to me, lass.”
She shook her head and slipping from his embrace, rose to her feet. “Nay.”
“Aye. Ye must,” he said, rising too.
She laughed. “And why think ye that I must.”
“Because ye love me.”
She had known fear before. But this was stronger, deeper—terror for him. She couldn’t afford to love this man. Couldn’t afford to lose him. “I do not!”
“Aye, ye do, and because of that love, ye must stay here, for if I lost ye …” He lunged for her and suddenly she was wrapped in the steely strength of his arms again. “If I lost ye, life would be without worth.” He murmured the words, his breath warm against her face. “Misery would drown me,” he whispered. “Please, lass. If I lost ye, I would surely die. I must go alone.”
His hand moved up, touching her face, seeming to memorize every feature. Their gazes met, and in them she saw the truth. He did love her. No matter what her station in life, no matter what she had done, he still loved her.
She held her breath, letting herself hope. Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps they were not like her parents. Perhaps in the Highlands people didn’t care so whether you were noble or peasant. Maybe, just maybe there was a chance for them.
Roman dropped his fingers into the warm, secret cave of her decollete. But in a moment, he drew his hand back.
“Where’s the bracelet?”
She almost smiled, but she dared not, though her suppressed exitement made her shiver. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they belonged together. But that only made it all the more important that she not let him endure Dagger’s evil alone. She closed her fingers over the amulet that had somehow fallen loose in her hand again. “I’ll never tell you, Scotsman.”
He gritted his teeth. “Where is it?”
“I’ll not see you dead. Not when I just now think I can mayhap keep you alive and still have you for my own.”
“You make no sense. Give me the bracelet, lass, so that I may retrieve the necklace and hurry from this city with ye at me side.”
“I tell you this, Scotsman—either we go to Dagger together, or I go alone.”
For a moment the look in Roman’s eyes almost frightened her, but finally he pulled her against his chest, holding her hard in the strength of his arms. “Hell fire, woman,” he murmured, “if I did not love ye so, I’d surely throttle ye.”
Chapter 24
Outside, the night was as dark as pitch. The warehouse at Cape Hood was little different, lit only by a single candle. Still, there were certain things Roman could identify in the darkness-a small fishing boat overturned nearby, paddles, nets. The smell of fish and dried salt were tangy in the heavy air.
Roman stood silently beside Tara. They were dressed as gypsies again. She had taken his amulet and hung it about her own neck. It was hidden now beneath her blouse. That knowledge gave him some hope. Mayhap it would give her luck, for surely they would need it. Listening to every noise, he absorbed each nuance of the men around them.
From the darkness, Dagger chuckled. “So ya got the bracelet, Princess.”
Tara tossed back her long, black hair. It gleamed in the light of the tallow candle. “Did I not say I would fetch it for you?”
“Aye. Ya did.”
Tara smiled. Even in the dimness, Roman could see the gleam of her teeth. They seemed brighter than ever against her walnut-stained skin. She held out her hand. Against her palm, the sapphires winked. ” Twill teach ye not to distrust my word.”
“I did not distrust it,” Dagger said, turning to pace the room. “Indeed, I think ya could do whatever you set your mind to, Princess. But I did not expect ya to succeed so soon. For ya see, I heard a rumor that the… former owner was wearing the piece only last night. Did ya hear such a rumor?”
The warehouse fell silent. Roman tried to quiet his pulse, still it raced out of control, banging against his bare chest like a warning drumroll.
But Salina only shrugged and flipped her hair behind one bare shoulder. “It is is here now. Do you take it and seal our agreement, or do you waste my time questioning my methods?”
“I don’t deny that your methods intrigue me,” he said. “But then …” He sighed. “‘Tis enough to call it mine, for ‘tis a pretty bauble and ‘twill make a fine match for another piece I have. Mayhap ya would like to see its mate.”
She shrugged again. “‘Tis doubtful the jewels will adorn my own form, so I have little interest in them.”
“But ya’ve such a bonny form,” said Dagger. “Angel, bring out the necklace for the princess to see.”
Roman’s gaze skimmed the darkness as he assessed his enemies on all fronts. Spread in a semicircle behind
him, there were at least a half dozen men. But still, the greatest danger stood before him. Angel was to his fore and right, Dagger directly in front of him.
Sapphires and diamonds spun on a fine web of silver tumbled out of a pouch into Angel’s hand.
“There it is,” Dagger said. “It’d look good on ya, Princess. Mayhap even better than on a French lady or a buxom barmaid.”
Dear Jesu! He knew! Roman thought, but Tara cocked her head, looking perfectly relaxed.
“Are you offering me the necklace, Daggerman?”
For a moment, there was absolute silence, then Dagger chuckled. “Sweet Christ, ya are a bright one, Princess. Ya are a bright one, indeed. But who are you? I ask myself. For a time I thought you were the Shadow, himself. Now that seems ridiculous. But I met a woman at…” He paused, shaking his head. “She reminded me of you. And yet… it couldn’t be.”
Tara raised her chin. “I do not care to be compared to other women. I think that you will have little chance to get to know me better.”
Dagger chuckled again and walked toward the lone candle, letting Tara and Roman see his face. “I fear ya’re right,” he said. “Because …” He lifted his hands as if begging forgiveness, but at the same time he nodded shallowly to the men behind Roman.
A nightmarish memory flashed through Roman’s mind. Dagger had nodded to his men before and Scar had died. Roman twisted about just in time to see a man lunged toward him, knife outstretched. He died with a gurgling scream.
“Run!” Roman yelled. Tara did. But instead of dashing toward the door, she leapt forward to whisk the necklace from Angel’s hand.
The villain’s fingers closed a moment too late.
“Kill her!” Dagger shrieked.
Angel yanked a blade from its scabbard. Tara lunged away, but in that instant, Angel grabbed her blouse and reeled her back.
She shrieked as she was snapped to a halt. Roman leapt toward them with a growl.
Angel spun toward him. Releasing her to defend himself, he swiped with his knife. Roman ducked and stabbed.
There was a rasping gasp of pain. Angel staggered backward, a dirk protruding from his abdomen.
“Go!” Roman roared. But Tara was surrounded.
Terror roiled in Roman’s stomach. There was nothing he could do but sacrifice his life.
Screaming, he launched himself, bare-handed, into the circle of men. Two of them went down with him.
“Roman! No!” He heard Tara’s shriek, but there was no time to think. A blade descended toward him. He rolled to the side and nearly gained his feet. But suddenly pain stabbed through his back.
“No!” Tara screamed again. But he could no longer see her.
He was surrounded by a circle of slavering hounds, drooling as they closed in for the kill.
“What now, Princess?” Dagger crooned.
Tara spun about and Dagger grabbed her arm. There was no time for thought. She snatched the nearby candle and slammed it into her captor’s face.
Dagger screamed as the flame bit his cheek. Stumbling backward, he swatted at the sparks in his hair, but the action only fanned the flame. He shrieked for help. Two men turned from Roman and rushed toward him. Tara lunged sideways, not thinking, only reacting.
The oar felt solid and real in her hand. She swung at the nearest man and struck him across his left ear. He yelped, dropping his knife and careening into his companion.
Roman rose from the ground with a growl of fury. A knife flashed in the dim light. A man crumbled. Another backed away. Tara swung again.
“Come on. Come!” Tara yelled.
Roman stumbled toward her. She grabbed his arm, sticky with blood, and dragged him toward the only exit.
“Locked!” he rasped.
But in that moment the door swung open.
“Hurry!” gasped Liam.
Outside, the darkness swallowed them.
“Kill them!” screamed Dagger.
The guard near their feet moaned.
Liam dragged at Roman’s arm, dancing along beside. “Hide,” he insisted then darted away.
Tara froze, abandoned, terrified. Roman leaned on her shoulder, heavy and limp.
Footsteps thudded inside the warehouse. Sweet Mary, they were coming. She had to save him. Had to hide.
Gasping for breath, she dragged him along the side of the building. He stumbled and nearly fell, but she pulled him to his feet and hurried on. The warehouse ended abruptly. She pulled him around the corner.
Men careened to a halt as they rushed out after them.
“Where—”
‘They’re coming. Run!” Liam yelled.
The villains turned as a unit, falling for Liam’s ploy and bolting off after him.
Tara allowed herself one moment to rest and pray. “Don’t die!” she pleaded quietly.
“The water’s our best wager,” Roman rumbled.
“You can speak,” she whispered and hugged Roman’s arm to her. Blood smeared across her blouse. His head drooped. “Scotsman.” Her voice sounded panicked to her own ears.
His head came up. He lifted his hand and touched her cheek. “Who are ye, Tara O’Flynn?”
“Please.” The word came out as a whispered sob. “Please, don’t die, Scotsman.”
“’Tis sorry I-” he murmured, and slumped heavily in her arms..
“No!” She managed to pull him back up. “The water. I’ll get you to the water.” But the river was more than twenty rods away, and there would be no cover. Still, they couldn’t stay where they were. Dagger’s men would surely circle the warehouse once they lost Liam.
Dragging at his arm, Tara toted Roman into the open. Eternity passed with every raspy breath he drew. Terror gnawed at Tara’s gut. “Just a little farther. A little—”
“Check by the water!” Dagger growled from the doorway.
Footsteps raced through the darkness toward them.
Tara froze. For the first time in her life, panic consumed her. “I’m sorry.” She clung to Roman’s arm. “So sorry. Please—” She was babbling.
“Shh,” he hissed. Slumping to the ground, he picked up a stone and heaved it with all his remaining might.
“What was that?”
“There! They’re over there!”
Footsteps rushed away.
“It willna take them long ta learn they’ve been tricked,” Roman rasped.
“Forgive me,” Tara whispered. “Please.”
“Get me in the water,” Roman ordered.
“Forgive me,” she pleaded again.
Roman turned his face to look into her eyes. “I’ve na wish ta die here, lass.” His words were no more than a whimper.
She nodded. Hope was distant thing, far out of her reach. But he had asked her to do it, and she would. From their right, they heard men splash into the water.
“Did ya find ‘em?”
“They’re ‘ere somewhere.”
A man swore. Their voices were distant, but coming closer.
Tara stepped into the water, dragging Roman with her. It was shockingly cold, taking her breath as it rose to her chest.
“Tara.” Roman’s voice was weak. He was half floating now and felt much lighter. “I cannot hold on much longer. Ye must—”
“No! Please.”
His hand found her arm and gripped it hard. “Listen ta me, lass.”
“Roman,” she whimpered.
“Shh. I would have ye know this now, lass, before the darkness takes me. Na matter the circumstances, these days with ye have been the best of me life.”
“Roman—”
“Shush now. I am sorry ta have failed ye.”
“No. No.” She hugged him tighter. “Please—”
“But I must ask ye one more thing.” For a moment he went silent. She watched his eyes fall closed. “I am sorry. Very …” He shivered. “Cold.” He fell silent again. She felt his muscles go lax.
“Roman!” She said it too loudly, but she didn’t care.
“Sh
h.” He woke with a start. “Ye must leave me.”
“Nay!” She sobbed the word.
“Have ye the necklace?”
“I won’t leave you. I won’t.”
He shushed her again. “Ye must get the necklace to Harrington. Tell him I have fulfilled me part of the bargain.”
“But—”
“Tell him,” Roman begged. “Or me death will be in vain. MacAulay will die with me.”
“I’ll get you to a healer.”
He shook his head, but the motion was weak. “There is na time, lass. The necklace must be in Harrington’s hands by tomorrow. It must.”
“I know you’re here, Princess.”
Dagger’s raised voice sliced into Tara’s thoughts. He was close. Very close.
“I know you’re here because this is where I would come.” He chuckled. The sound was low and soothing, as if they shared a harmless conspiracy.
“Did y’ find the ‘ore?” someone gasped, running up.
For a moment there was silence then, “Yes, Wads, I found her,” Dagger said.
“I’ll kill ‘er for y’.”
“This one is mine,” Dagger said. “Give me your knife.”
There was a moment’s silence, but suddenly a man’s gasp filled the night. Footsteps stumbled. A body fell.
“You should have known she was far too good for the likes of you, Wads,” Dagger said.
Tara heard him turn toward her. Terror and cold immobilized her.
“I will not hurt you, Princess,” he called. “See, I have killed Wads for you. I’m unarmed, now.” He fell silent, pacing closer.
Dear God, he was coming!
“My apologies for the misunderstanding. You saw my face, so I believed you must die. But now I realize your worth.”
Tara dared not breathe. Beside her, Roman was silent. Was he dead? She felt a sob rise up her throat, but clasped her hand over her mouth, praying.
“Come out of there, Princess. I can see you, you know. I fear your friend will not live. But perhaps that is best. He seemed the jealous sort. There must be nothing standing between you and me. We were meant to be mated for life. Ahh, the things we could accomplish together.”
Tara could see him now. Could he see her?
Highland Wolf (Highland Brides) Page 28