Molly in the Middle

by Stobie Piel

  "Good, good." He actually seemed relieved. Miren exhaled a shuddering breath. Brent eyed her doubtfully.

  "Have to get back to the manor, I'm afraid." Brent sighed and gazed heavenward. "Mother has guests for tea. Insists I be there. Guess I've put it off as long as possible."

  "It was good speaking with you, Brent."

  Miren watched him head for the manor. Irene met him at the door and drew him in, accompanied by two older women.

  Brent wasn't lying. He was stuck for the afternoon.

  Miren glanced back at Simon. Still sleeping. Brent was accounted for. A quick check might provide the necessary evidence. And she was still bored. "Molly, Flip! Come!"

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Miren found the path Brent had taken, even into the trees. She'd taken too much time already. Simon might wake and find her missing. Molly and Flip weren't much as bloodhounds. They ran through the trees, chasing squirrels. They went deeper into the woods, but Miren aimed for the meadow again.

  Something square caught her eye. Her heart jumped, her nerves tingled. "A trunk!" She'd found it. She wasn't sure what it contained, but evidence, surely. Miren clasped her skirt and hurried toward the trunk. Branches cracked as she stepped on them, but she didn't care.

  It was a good-sized trunk, wooden. Well made, with iron trim. And a lock. A solid, large lock. Miren kicked the trunk. "Curses!"

  She refused to surrender. She fiddled with the lock, but it didn't yield. Molly and Flip ran through the trees up ahead, then into the meadow. "Oh, hell! How will I open this?"

  "You won't."

  Miren screamed. She jumped, and tripped headlong over the trunk. A firm hand clasped her skirt just above her bottom, pulled her back, and righted her. She scrambled away, whirled, but he grabbed her again. He wasn't gentle as he turned her to face him.

  "Nathan!" Miren's knees gave way and she sank back onto the trunk. "What are you doing here?"

  "What am I doing here?" He'd never looked so angry. His brown eyes darkened to black, he loomed over her. His shirt was only half buttoned, as if he'd been woken abruptly. His hair looked tangled. "What am I doing here?" He moved closer, towering over her. Miren shrank back and gripped the trunk.

  ''That's what I said." Her voice came as a small squeak. He looked as if he wanted to strangle her.

  "I think the better question is"

  "Oh. You're probably wondering why I'm here, it being a risk and all."

  "An astute guess."

  Miren gazed up through the trees casually. "Molly and Flip are here to protect me."

  Nathan looked around. A calculated effort. "Are they? So they would race to your aid if I should, for instance, attempt to . . . oh, say . . . wrap my fingers around your neck and squeeze until you turn blue"

  "Nathan! There's no need to be vile. And, of course, if I were truly in danger, Molly and Flip would defend me. They know you, so they're not alarmed."

  "They're not in sight! They're frolicking off in the meadow. While you"his voice trembled with rage"while you . . . What are you doing?"

  "Don't shout. I refuse to answer if you're shouting."

  "I won't shout. I wouldn't think of shouting. What are you doing, you crazy . . . Scottish female."

  "I'm . . . Well, I'm sitting on evidence."

  "Of what?"

  "This is a trunk." Despite Nathan's fury, Miren felt proud. "Brent's trunk. He keeps it hidden out here. I expect he keeps his mask and other devices here, so we won't find them in the manor."

  Nathan eyed the trunk. "Maybe. Or maybe he keeps . . ." Nathan paused. Miren's brow arched into a knowing posture.

  "You can't think of any other explanation, either." Miren eased off the trunk and stood with it between herself and Nathan. "I know you're alarmed."

  "Oh? Why would I be alarmed?"

  "Don't be coy, Nathan. You're annoyed. You have every right to be. You see, I had a bit of trouble finding this, or I'd have been back earlier, before anyone noticed." She paused.

  "Am I correct in assuming that Simon noticed I wasn't quite where I promised to be?"

  Nathan nodded.

  "And I'm sorry . . . Except that, of course, I did find this trunk, and it is evidence"

  "Of what?"

  "Of . . . I don't know. Open it and find out."

  "How?"

  "Break it open? You're a man."

  "And I consider myself a fairly strong man. But not strong enough to open a cast-iron lock." His voice had become a growl. No, his anger wasn't abating. It had altered slightly. It had become curiously compelling, but it wasn't gone.

  For a reason Miren didn't understand, she liked his anger. In fact, she longed to provoke it further. "I'm perfectly safe here, you understand."

  "You're sure, are you? What led you to this conclusion?"

  Miren straightened, triumphant. "Brent is in the manor, having tea with his mother."

  Nathan nodded again. "I see. And if, by chance, Brent wasn't your assailant? If another man has been lurking in wait to get you alone?"

  He had her there. "Brent has a trunk hidden in the woods. He was just here this afternoon. I saw him, which is why I felt I had to"

  "Risk your neck?"

  Miren elevated her chin. "I didn't consider it as such."

  He started around the trunk. Miren moved to the other end. "So, what are you going to do about this?"

  "I'm going to tie you to your bedpost and . . ." Nathan's words trailed off. His eyes flashed something akin to fire.

  "I meant about the trunk!"

  "Simon and I will find a way to break it open tomorrow."

  "That sounds good."

  Miren stepped back from the trunk, bumped into a tree, then aimed for the meadow. He was right behind her. Herthoughts twirled. She slowed, spotted him from the corner of her eye, then picked up her skirts and bolted for the open pasture.

  She'd caught him off guard. Miren ran until her lungs hurt. She sped through the bluebells as if born by fairy wings. Molly and Flip barked in excitement, then raced along ahead. Nathan came up behind her. She heard him, fast and skilled, like a hunter.

  He caught her by the shoulders, still running, and lifted her off her feet. They fell, but her body didn't touch the ground. He lay above her, braced on his strong arms as his hair fell around his face. His black eyes burned, but he was smiling.

  Miren's heart raced from running, from him. She stared up at him wide-eyed as the blue sky framed his beautiful head. Her heart ached with such suddenness . . . She squeezed her eyes shut to blot out the sight.

  His body aligned with hers, meeting near her hips. She felt his strong thighs straddling her, holding her down. He lowered, slightly, and she felt his desire. "Nathan . . ."

  She looked up at him, but he sat back abruptly, releasing her. Miren sighed. "I suppose we should go back to the cottage. Simon will be worried."

  "Yes." His voice sounded thick, hoarse. Miren's nerves tingled. From desire. No matter what he said, he still wanted her.

  Nathan rose to his feet and offered his hand. She took it and stood up, but he released her and walked on ahead. Miren stood a moment, watching his broad, strong back, his dark hair splayed across his shoulders. He walked looking down, fighting for control.

  Miren stood motionless. A light breeze from the loch crossed the meadow, bending the bluebells, weaving through the tall grass. It cooled her face and softened her hair. He walked away, and Miren knew why she couldn't release him, why her imaginings kept coming back despite her defiance.

  "I love you."

  The breeze stole her whisper and passed it to the forest beyond. Yet her soft vow lingered in the air, surrounding her, filling her heart with a strength she'd never known before.

  I am in love with you. She knew that pain would follow, but at this moment Miren didn't care. She knew her life would go on without him. Maybe she would even marry another, one day. But no one, not in all the world, would touch her heart so deeply.

  She couldn't risk her heart further. It
was already in his possession.

  Chapter Twelve

  This has been the most blissful day in my life. Flip is fun. I don't know how I misjudged him so.

  The young mistress never allows me privacy. She hovers. I'd never noticed it before, but it's true. "Come, Molly." "Sit, Molly." She's overprotective. No question. If only a dog could issue the command "stay" to a human!

  Molly lagged behind Miren, hoping to be forgotten. It didn't seem likely. Miren never overlooked her actions. Miren and Nathan were bickering. He was still displeased that the young mistress had frolicked without him. At least, Molly guessed that explained his fury.

  Miren's stomping gait indicated that she, too, was enraged. Their argument escalated as they approached the pasture gate. Nathan reached to open it, but Miren shoved him aside and yanked it open herself. Molly wasn't sure if she meant to slam the gate into Nathan's stomach or not.

  Apparently, he thought so, because he shook his first at Miren's back as she whisked through the open gate and headed for the cottage. Nathan jammed the latch shut and stormed after her. Molly sat beside Flip, watching as Miren hurried to the cottage, opened the door quickly, and slammed it shut in Nathan's face.

  Even the sheep took note of their peculiar behavior and stopped grazing to watch.

  Nathan tried to open the door. It didn't work. Perhaps the young mistress stood on the other side holding it shut. His fists clenched. Molly and Flip exchanged a doubtful glance, then looked back at Nathan. He paused, collecting himself, then knocked.

  Molly heard Miren's voice. She sounded pert. "No."

  Nathan knocked again, harder this time. Molly felt sure she heard humming from inside the cottage. Nathan rattled the door knob. His effort escalated, but the door didn't open. "Woman, open this door!"

  Molly heard it again. "No."

  Nathan growled like a dog. He stepped back from the door as if he intended to find other sleeping arrangements. With a low roar, he turned back again, braced his shoulder, and rammed full force into the door. It popped open and he burst inside. Molly heard a sharp squeak from within, which must have come from Miren.

  The squeak was followed by a crash. Then another, louder crash. Like a chair slamming against a wall. A tin cup banged on the window. Something shattered. Pottery, perhaps. Molly heard Miren's voice, taunting. Nathan cursed.

  And then there was silence.

  Molly and Flip looked at each other, then at the empty byre. Alone at last.

  Miren held a dinner bowl poised and aimed at Nathan's head. Nathan gripped another chair. They stared at each other, mouths open, eyes burning. Miren dampened her lips with a quick dart of her tongue. Her heart slammed in her breast.

  The dinner bowl slipped from her fingers and cracked on the floor. Nathan dropped the chair. They met in the middle of the room, caught each other in a fierce embrace, and kissed with a fury that soared past their previous battle.

  She couldn't tell where he began or she ended. She couldn't tell if he pulled her closer or she pulled him. She grasped his hair, his fingers entwined in hers. They met in wild, feverish abandonkissing, breath mingling. Nathan's heart pounded against hers, his pulse raged in the same rhythm as her own.

  Miren gasped for air, then molded her mouth against his. He kissed her face, her eyelids. She tipped her head back and he kissed her throat. Miren's hands shook as she pulled open his collar. Buttons snapped and dropped to the floor as she parted his shirt. Her soul was on fire. Nothing mattered but burrowing deep within him.

  Miren pushed his shirt from his strong, smooth shoulders and pulled it down to his wrists. She burned, so far beyond control that she thought never to return. Her fiery gaze swept across his wide chest, her fingers clenched as she pressed her mouth against his flesh.

  His head angled back and he groaned, a low, masculine surrender as Miren licked and nipped, tasting him. Her lips blazed a warm trail over his muscled chest to his neck. She seized his hair and drew his face to hers. His arms clasped around her, he took her mouth in a demanding, deep kiss.

  She pulled his shirt free and tossed it aside. Their eyes met, and they faced each other like two storms on a turbulent sea. Miren felt a power and magic she'd never known, a rage to challenge, and battle, and seek victory. It wasn't gentle nor passive nor peaceful. It was a storm between them.

  Nathan showed no signs of surrender. The same lust to conquer glittered in his dark eyes. He caught her face in his hands, kissing her. His hands slid from her face to her neck, then over her shoulders. His quick fingers found the small buttons that ran down her back. Miren held her breath as the buttons came loose, cool air touching her back as he pulledher bodice forward and down. It fell to her waist, revealing her breasts squeezed upward beneath her corset, covered only by her thin chemise.

  Her dress slithered to her feet. She had no idea how he removed so easily what challenged her every night. She stood, heart raging, her chest rising and falling beneath shallow breaths. His eyes didn't leave hers as he ran his finger along the line of her corset. He bent and pressed his mouth over her concealed flesh, then drew away.

  He unfastened her corset, freeing her breasts to his touch. Miren felt dizzy. Her passion spiraled beyond control, beyond reason. She didn't think of stopping him. He cupped her breast in his hand, then bent to graze its tip with his tongue. The light fabric concealed nothing. Her nipple hardened into a taut peak as he sucked and teased. Her whole body tightened, she leaned against him.

  He moved his attention to her other breast, then cupped both in his hands. He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze as he teased the little buds with his thumbs. She shuddered, her eyes closed, and he bent her back to kiss her neck. His hips moved against hers. He was hot and full, hard against her stomach.

  Her inner depths burned molten, such a craving as she never imagined. He had brought her here before, sweet and slow. But now they spiraled toward the same destination, charging headlong toward such rapture . . . He grasped her waist and lifted her, holding her body full against his. She felt his male length poised against her woman's mound. She squirmed against him to fuel his desire further still.

  He kissed her face as he carried her across the cottage. He sat her on the edge of her bed and knelt to unlace her low boots. The boots came off, and he slid his hands up her legs to remove her stockings. Miren trembled as they came off and slid to the floor.

  He rose, and she fixed her gaze on his, a slight smile curving her lips. She pulled her chemise from her body and tossedit aside. His eyes burned black, his face seemed swollen with desire. He wouldn't deny her now. He wouldn't gain control of his senses until he found relief. She wouldn't allow it until she found her own.

  "You want me. I want you, too." Her gravelly voice sounded to her like another woman's, a woman possessed by desire. A woman who longed to give all she possessed to the man she loved. No matter what happened between them, no matter how she hurt in the end.

  His dark eyes took in her body, and she knew the sight pleased him. He didn't look away as he unfastened his trousers and kicked off his boots. His trousers lowered, revealing his strong hips, the hard cords of his stomach. He bent to pull them off, and Miren caught a glimpse of his firm buttocks. When he stood, his male organ stood poised from his body, engorged and dark. More than she had imagined.

  Miren puffed a quick breath. It couldn't all be meant to fit inside her. Perhaps only the tip. She met his eyes, and he smiled. Not gentle or reassuring, but with a promise of something she couldn't know.

  He took her hand and placed it over his staff, closing her fingers around its width. It felt hot, its pulse surged. Miren went weak with need. She didn't care how large it was. She would accommodate him somehow. Her fingers squeezed, and he caught his breath.

  "This is what you've done to me, this is what I've endured . . . day after day, hour by hour."

  Miren peeked up at him. "Does it hurt?"

  "It aches, Miren. I ache."

  She recognized this feeling. "I ache, too
."

  He smiled. "We will search out relief together."

  Relief. That was what she wanted. Miren moved her hand up and down around him. His hard flesh seemed to grow, to burn hotter as she caressed him. His muscles drew taut, as if a great surge of energy and power were imminent. She ranher palm over the swollen tip, and his breath caught on a harsh gasp.

  Nathan seized her shoulders and pressed her back against the bed. Her grip loosened, and she wrapped her arms around his neck instead. He eased her body up, lengthwise along the bed, so that the pillows supported her head. He sat beside her, but he didn't touch her.

  She lay naked, her heart pounding, her body ripe and tingling. But still he didn't touch her. For a brief flash, she feared he had come to his senses. That he would remember his purpose and turn away. She arched her back slightly, provocative.

  "You know when I'm weak, don't you? You know what you do." His voice came like a growl, hoarse and deep. "You are beautiful, Miren. So perfect and so sweet."

  She didn't feel sweet. She felt wanton. Wanton enough to ask anything, and see it delivered in full. "Please me." She liked the rich, commanding tone of her voice, though she wasn't sure where it came from. It worked admirably. He seemed to turn into flame before her eyes.

  "Please you? Is that what you want? Not my heart or my soul or my life spent at your side?"

  Miren smiled. She wanted all those things, but freely given. Not demanded. "I want satisfaction."

  He looked incapable of answering, but he moved, took her legs in his hands, and knelt between her thighs. It felt odd. Awkward and odd, to lie back, to have her legs spread. To have him there, between. She hadn't been entirely sure of the position a couple took in lovemaking. She pictured them lying side by side, legs straight.

  This seemed far more shocking. A woman concealed nothing this way.

  She expected him to take her. His male length stood ready, poised. Her body seemed ready, too. But he just smiled. With one finger, he traced a line down over her feminine curls, then between her thighs. She was slippery and wet, perhaps in preparation for his entrance.