Jolin gritted her teeth as his arms tightened around her, squeezing her to his body. A large muscular body that could crush hers in an instant. “Sir, I really don’t see the reason for you to be holding me like this.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t. But since I don’t particularly trust you, I must do all that is necessary to ensure that you don’t go running off.”
“What do you care?” He was silent for moment and she smirked. Perhaps the brute wasn’t so brutish, now was he?
“I’ve been asking myself that question all night.” He then shrugged, the action causing firm lips to brush across her temple. “But Sinclair seems to believe that if we leave you to your own devices, you might end up getting yourself killed.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” Jolin jerked in his hold to no avail. “Kindly, let me go.”
Something akin to laughter rumbled in his chest and she lifted her head to make out his eyes. They must be closed because she couldn’t see a damn thing.
“Oh, I’m rather starting to enjoy having your body pressed against mine, Miss Crymble. So tell me…what is your given name?”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Her lips twisted in a sneer. “Well, you can go straight to hell. As you may have already noticed, I’m not particularly fond of you.”
“Neither am I. But I must admit that even a shrew like yourself do possess an attractive figure.” His hand trailed lightly over her left hip, sending an unexpected shiver of pleasure through her pelvis. She heard him chuckle and berated herself for own body’s betrayal. “Ah. And even a shrew understands passion.”
“Take your hands off me before I--”
“Before you what?” He was grinning now. She could see the perfect outlines of his teeth. “Kiss me into oblivion?”
He was teasing her and she knew it. Jolin eased her head back as far as she could. “Before I spit right in that talkative mouth of yours. How’s that for a kiss?”
LeMark stilled but his grip only tightened on her hip, his fingers pinching into her backside. Jolin gasped at the intimacy even as he flung one heavy leg over her thighs. Goodness, the man was big but nothing compared to the hard bulge she felt poking into her lower belly. She would have shot right off the ground if he hadn’t had her trapped beneath his inescapable limbs.
“That,” he said, the huskiness of his voice causing goosebumps to trail down her back, “is my cock. Oh, I almost forgot what a paragon of virtue you are. My apologies. Allow me to correct myself. Another name for it is--”
“I know what it is!” she almost screeched, knowing full well she was blushing straight down to the roots of the hair on her head. “Remove it from me at once!”
He grinned, the insufferable man. “But you surprise me, Miss Crymble.” His voice then grew even deeper. “For a woman of your level of virtue, I’m rather shocked that you know such parts of a man’s body.”
Christ, he could stop yapping on and on about her virtue now. “I didn’t say I know it. I said I know what it is.”
“Ah, yes. I understand now.” His face lowered to hers, so much she could make out the rings of his pupils. “What say you that my cock gets to know you, right now.”
Anger and a slight shock--yes, shock--had Jolin reeling backwards despite LeMark’s hold on her. The man had surely passed his place with her now. What did he think, that she was some feather-brained doxy who’d spread her thighs to his advances? Well, he was sadly mistaken. Ruel Alexander Wulf Crymble had raised no fool.
Making sure she’d garnered every ounce of phlegm from the back of her throat in one swift nasal draw, she leaned right up and spat directly in his eye.
* * *
Tethran released her just as Sinclair’s deep chuckle resounded in the darkness. Hell, the woman had actually spit in his face. The last time anyone had done that was when he was a boy of twelve. The old bastard had suffered a rock to the side of his head for such an offence. He reached for his discarded coat and wiped the spittle from his eye, fighting the urge to chuckle as well. The woman had nerve, and he couldn’t quite decide yet if that was a good thing.
Besides, he knew full well that he’d deserved it for teasing her so mercilessly. But the woman had been tempting him all night, even in her sleep. With that lovely body pressed against him, any man would be as hard as a rock and ready to plunge. Rising to the balls of his feet, he glanced over at where Miss Crymble stood firmly in his friend’s grip.
“Saw that one coming from a mile away,” Sinclair chuckled.
He grinned. “Feisty little thing, isn’t she?”
From what he could see, Miss Crymble was likely glaring at him but he got to his feet and walked over to them.
“I am fully expecting an apology,” she uttered. “You may start now, I am listening.”
His gaze narrowed and he dropped his hands to his hips. “The only thing I’m sorry for is that I didn’t manage to steal a kiss before you spat in my face. But I warn you, don’t try it again.”
“So you do want to kiss her?” Sinclair chimed in.
“She has rather tempting lips and her attitude seems to only encourage me,” Tethran admitted. He glanced back at the woman to see her mouth dropped wide open. “Do close your mouth, Miss Crymble. Not unless you want a taste of my tongue.” He even waggled his eyebrows to match.
She sputtered. “You…you--miscreant!”
Sinclair guffawed. “She said ‘miscreant’..”
“Seems the best that her virtuous mind can do.” Tethran’s smile grew even wider as she bristled. “I’ve been called far worse, Miss Crymble. You should make a little more effort next time.”
“While I am enjoying this amusing interlude…” Sinclair cleared his throat. “I do wish to know what’s next on the agenda. I doubt it is much past midnight and we still have a few hours till dawn.”
Tethran shrugged. “We could always tie her to a tree…”
“No!” Miss Crymble’s voice rang out in a shriek. “You cannot possibly mean to tie me to a tree for…for hours?”
“Of course not,” he answered. “But I will tie you up nonetheless. Hand her over.”
Tethran took hold of her as Sinclair grinned, handing him his kerchief, and he bound her hands tightly around the wrists. He then lifted her off her feet, landing a stinging slap to her bottom. The woman yelped and kicked her feet but he managed to secure her ankles as well before losing his eyes.
“You will not get away with this, LeMark,” she screamed. “I’ll make your journey a living hell, you just watch and see.”
Tethran turned at the sound of his name and smiled. “You catch on fast, Miss Crymble. Though I’ve never had a woman call out my name like that before. Please, do say it again.”
The woman grumbled, laying her head against the blankets he’d spread there as a makeshift bed. For some reason, he figured they wouldn’t be hearing another peep out of her for the rest of the night. Chuckling, he turned again to face Sinclair who nodded him over to the side. Tethran frowned as they walked a distance out of earshot but still close enough to reach the woman lest she try anything foolish. Whatever Sinclair was about to say was likely not anything he wanted to hear.
“I know what you are going to say and I don’t want to hear it.”
Sinclair folded his arms across his chest and raised a brow. “Really now? And what exactly was I about to say?”
“That I shouldn’t toy with the woman as I might truly hurt her sensibilities.”
His friend laughed and punched him in the shoulder, shaking his head. “Far from it, LeMark. Who am I to tell you what to do?” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Truth is, it is you who I’m more worried about.”
Tethran eyed him suspiciously, chanced a glance at Miss Crymble and then back. Sinclair wasn’t making any sense. At least, he hoped he wasn’t because if he was, Tethran feared he’d have to land a fist into the man’s mouth.
“Talk plainly, Sinclair,” he almost growled.
Hi
s friend took a wise step back, still grinning. “I believe the woman would be good for you, old man. Aren’t you retiring soon anyway?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Miss Crymble would be a thorn in any man’s flesh--”
“But not just any man. Besides, didn’t you notice how she couldn’t keep her eyes off you back in Dumbar?”
Tethran felt his teeth grind. If that wasn’t the overstatement of the century. “Likely staring at the damn scars on my face.”
Sinclair snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. “And she did not scream in horror. I must say, I’ve never seen a woman do that before with you.”
“I don’t need a woman, Sinclair--”
“The bulge in your trousers sort of gives it away, old man.”
“--and if you continue talking, I might decide that I’m not in need of your presence either.”
His friend shrugged but a knowing look flashed in his eyes. It was not a look Tethran particularly liked. Turning on his heel, he stormed off but paused just long enough to throw over his shoulder,
“Don’t take your eyes off the little spitfire. I’m going to take a piss.”
SEVEN
That LeMark’s wrists were probably twice the size of her ankles, Jolin could not seem to think of anything else save for the inescapable fact that she was stuck with them. She watched almost aloofly as the man released her feet from their wretched prison and sighed. She could make out the thin red wales on her skin and raised her angry gaze at him. If she didn’t know better, the glint in his beautiful blue eyes was that of amusement. She suppressed a scoff and looked away. Did she just say, beautiful? Of course, she’d never seen eyes so rich and enchanting. At least, not on a man. But…LeMark? In truth, with those dreadful scars and a mouth that was always turned up in a scowl, his countenance could barely pass for tolerable. Which was why she could not fathom being so curious about him, all of a sudden..
It was his touch, you fool. She gave herself one swift mental shake. One that would loose such a nonsensical notion from her clearly rattled brain. She refused to dwell on the fact that his hands had stirred something within her the night before. Jolin knew he had only meant to tease her, to rile her temper but somehow she had found herself responding to the man’s touch. In all honesty, she’d never felt a man’s touch before then. Well, not unless the parson’s handshake every Sunday back in Dumbar counted…or the affectionate hugs from her own dear father. Whatever the case may be, she was quite convinced that she might just be suffering from some strange ailment and would have to discover the cure for it very soon.
In the meanwhile, she must act rationally. Jolin must find her father and let him know what was happening. Him running off with not so much as a goodbye clearly told her that he’d suspected himself of being in danger. But why not let her in on it? Surely, he must have thought she’d be left at risk being at home all by herself. She only wondered if he knew just how much danger it really was. And this LeMark and Sinclair were definitely the right persons to help her find him. Sitting upright, she glanced down at her still bound wrists and angled her chin, taking in a well needed breath. Yes, rational was what she needed to be.
She cleared her throat loud enough to draw both their attentions. “Fine morning isn’t it, gentlemen?”
Sinclair raised a brow and LeMark glanced up at the sky. He then stared down at her suspiciously. “A little too early to tell, isn’t it, Sinclair? Why, the sun won’t be up for another few minutes.”
His friend chuckled. “I think the lady is trying to strike up conversation but doesn’t quite know how to start.”
“Plus, she called us ‘gentlemen’,” LeMark continued, folding his arms. “A long jump from miscreant, if you ask me.”
Drat! Was she that obvious? Jolin shifted on her aching bottom and tried again. “I have a proposition. One I am confident you won’t refuse. But first I must know…” She moved to rise to her feet, using her elbow as leverage. “In what direction are we headed?”
“To the city,” Sinclair offered, eyeing her wearily. “What proposition?’
She lifted her chin. “I know I have been somewhat of a burden over the last few hours--”
LeMark snorted.
“--and since you are already headed in the direction I was planning on going anyway, I propose you help me find my father.”
LeMark grumbled. “Doesn’t sound like a proposition to me, madam. How do we benefit?”
Jolin’ lips curled in a smile. “Why, you get my obedience, of course. I promise I will be the most amiable travelling companion so long as you assist me in locating my father. I must be assured he is all right.”
“A minute, madam.” LeMark was on her with two swift strides and was already grabbing her by the arm. He then glanced over his shoulder and added, “You can get the horses ready, Sinclair. We’re heading out in five minutes.”
Jolin braced herself, preparing whatever arguments she could in case the man refused. She could not afford to be turned down. Not in this case. Her father needed her. She eyed him through the corner of her eyes as he dragged her towards a tree.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to handle a woman with care? My god, you must put proper house training to shame. If you--”
“And you put all proper women to shame, Miss Crymble,” he growled. “You flung a knife into my leg, tried to dislodge my balls and now…you are proving to be nothing more than a damn motor-mouth. Do you ever shut up?”
She gasped with outrage, shrugging him off with one mighty twist of her body. “Motor-mouth? Motor-mouth! Why you sorry excuse for a--”
Before she could let out another squeak, LeMark’s mouth came down over hers in a hard kiss, his tongue forcing its way past her shocked lips. A fiery need shot up her spine and down again, exploding like millions of sparks across her pelvis. So this was what it felt like to be kissed by a man... His arms came around her, crushing her to him and she let him, sinking into his embrace like a wanton. Her eyes fluttered close and she moaned, a sound that sounded so foreign, she wasn’t quite sure if it had come from her. She felt dazed, thoroughly stupefied as he slanted his mouth, deepening the kiss, his hand sliding slowly…slowly down her side and above the curve of her bottom. She felt his fingers squeeze the flesh of her derrière and she gasped, yanking her head back.
Jolin’s eyes flew wide open, her heart racing. LeMark’s eyes had taken on a much darker shade, like midnight blue, as he gazed back down at her. Lust…raw, unbridled desire swirled in their depths and she was shocked by it. No man had ever looked at her like that before. No, not like she was the last piece of meat thrown out to a pack of starving dogs. She gulped, the neckline of her modest dress suddenly feeling too tight. She needed to check herself before she lost her dignity. Before she gave in to this man’s deliciously tempting advances.
Throat feeling parched, she licked her lips, stiffening as his gaze lowered to the movement. Jolin swallowed, her mind telling her to break loose but her heart…her heart wondered if she might just take another one of those kisses--
“Finally tongue-tied, are you?” his deep baritone came. “If I’d known that was the only way to shut you up, I’d have done it already.”
Her eyebrows lowered in a frown, refusing to believe he’d only done so to silence her. A kiss like that--though she hadn’t any other to compare it with--was certainly not one any man would give away casually. She’d quite enjoyed it, really.
“You mean you felt nothing when you kissed me?” she dared to ask.
One side of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Oh, I felt something, Miss Crymble. I felt it straight down to my toenails.” He grinned then, making no move to let her go. “You tempt me, madam. Even though you clearly have no experience in the task, that obviously being your very first kiss.”
Jolin stifled a gasp. Arrogant man. She would not give him the satisfaction. “I will have you know that you are not the first man I have kissed, LeMark, and certainly won’t be the last. So I suggest you g
et off your high horse and release me at once. We are wasting precious time.”
He chuckled, his grip loosening but not quite releasing her. “But you must admit that it was a good kiss.”
She cocked her head in thought. “I would say it was fairly tolerable. Perhaps if you had used a bit more tongue--”
“You little minx!” His lips flattened into a thin line. “I’ll show you exactly how much of my tongue I can use.”
And he made to kiss her once again but Jolin ducked to the right, LeMark’s lips grazing her left ear. A shiver ran through her at the light touch and she struggled in his grip. She feared that if she tempted the man any further, she might end up flat on her back and her thighs spread wide to accommodate him. A groan surfaced in her throat. Truly, she should not be thinking such wicked thoughts. Pushing her bound hands against his stomach, she managed to convince him to let her go. Or he’d released her of his own accord because as she stumbled backwards, a loud shout sliced through the air.
The Strength of Baffin Page 5