Authors: Melissa Lynne Blue
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Heat fused Lydia like the sun in the dawn. The whole of her body melted around Brian welcoming his frame as though kissing him, lying beneath him, was the most natural act in the world. His lips, moist and firm, molded around her mouth and a smattering of dark whiskers bristled against her chin. Shockwaves of awareness rippled across her body. Every nerve ending responded to his kiss, even places she’d not known existed came alive, craving his touch. Instinctively she curled her arms around his neck not wanting this one perfect moment to end.
He responded with urgency, deepening the exchange. He slid a hand across her hip grasping the small of her back as his tongue teased the crease of her lips, begging them to part. She shuddered with a combination of shock and pleasure as his tongue swam into her mouth. Was it the danger of their situation adding such passion to the embrace, causing her to respond with such wanton abandon?
Abruptly Brian broke off the kiss. “Stay quiet.”
“Huh?” she murmured, not yet recovered from his kiss.
“What do you think, Roark? Have we gone far enough to finish the job?” A voice drifted back from the driver’s seat.
Alarm, penetrated whatever haze of Brian’s kiss remained. “We must do something, now!” she hissed.
“Lydia, please, keep yer voice down. They’ll hear us.”
“I’m not talking any louder than you, Brian,” she whispered.
He scowled.
ignored him, mind whirling, searching for a plan of attack. Through the open back of the wagon naught but dirt road and thick foliage met her gaze. It would be far easier to lose their captors in the forest than to take their chances hand to hand with armed men. If she and Brian could escape the wagon without detection…
The cartwheel bounced in a large rut, sending both of them—and Lucas MacGregor—sailing toward the open back of the wagon. The rickety wood cracked beneath their combined weight, and using the momentum Lydia flattened her arms against Brian’s chest, heaved with all her strength, and rolled them both through the open bottom of the wagon.
Sunlight slammed Lydia full in the face a split second before she realized the hard packed road would be slamming into her next. There wasn’t even time to squeeze her eyes shut. “Ouff.” Brian landed flat on his back, and she squarely on top of him. Stunned, she clung to the front of his shirt, staring after the departing wagon. Her eyes darted to the wooded terrain around them, the middle of nowhere, or so it would seem.
“Christ, lass.” Brian groaned and rolled her off of him. “Ye’ll be the death of me. I’m sure of it. Did ye not hear what I said about bidin’ our time? Plannin’ a bit?”
“There is a time for planning and a time for action,” Lydia muttered, scrambling to her knees.
“You are yer father’s daughter,” he grumbled, and Lydia had the distinct impression the statement was not a compliment.
Lydia threw a harried glance over her shoulder to see the driver, and the man she recognized as Roark looking back at them in overt confusion. “Um, Brian? We’d better be going.”
Brian growled under his breath, following her pointed finger. He heaved to his feet, hauling her bodily along with him, and bolted for the cover of the woods.
The wagon rattled to a halt as one man drew a long bore musket. A cold rush washed over her. “Brian, look out!”
The shot went high, slamming into a tree above their heads. “By Christ,” Brian muttered, ducking his head away from the shower of splinters. He grabbed her upper arm, planting her firmly in front of him, once again positioning himself between her and immediate harm. “Run straight into the trees. Don’t look back for anythin’. We’ll lose the bastards in the thicket.”
Feet churching beneath her, Lydia obeyed running blindly through the wood. Leaves and gnarled branches slapped her face and tore at her breeches. Her lungs burned, but still she pressed on, reassured by the steady thud of Brian’s footfalls behind her; as long as she was moving she could hold herself together. A clearing appeared directly ahead of them, she turned to avoid the open space, but Brian grabbed her hand, guiding her into the field. Midway across, he looped an arm about her waist dragging her down into the tall grass beside him.
“What are you doing?” Unwittingly she whimpered, fighting his hold.
This is madness!
“Why, for the love of God, are we lying in the middle of an open field with naught but a foot of grass shielding us from certain death?”
“Listen to me for
once
,” he ordered, “and lie down.” Brian locked a strong arm across her middle, drawing her into the warm security of his chest.
Her body shook with such force she was sure the rattle of her bones was audible to the murderers’ ears. Utterly exposed, Lydia wanted nothing more than to wake from the miserable nightmare consuming her life. If only it was a nightmare. If only she could open her eyes, see the midnight blue canopy above her bed, and realize none of this had ever happened. A hard pit solidified in her stomach as the realization she may never see home again struck… hard.
Suddenly the whole of her body itched with the need to run. “We’re going to die,” she rasped, balling fistfuls of grass into her hands as though rooting herself to the spot.
Brian speared her with an urgent, penetrating look. “Hush,” he breathed, pressing calloused fingers to her lips. “Lie still.”
“Where did they go?” The befuddled voice of Keith’s henchman rang out over the clearing. “It’s like the two of ‘em disappeared into thin air. Like ghosts.”
“Impossible,” the second brigand scoffed. “They’re ‘ere, and we’d best be findin’ ‘em before they have a chance to escape. Mister Keith’ll have our hides if we go home without proof that the little bitch and Donnelly are dead. How are you with trackin’, mate?”
“A fair sight better than you are with shooting, Roark,” disdain dripped from the man’s tone. “I can’t believe you missed the bastard! Donnelly was only ten feet away and his back’s near as broad as a barn.”
“Shut up, Jackson. I sure as hell didn’t see you trying to stop them.”
Lydia blanched, near out of her mind as the crunch of booted feet drew nearer. How exactly had all of this happened? When had life spun so suddenly outside the realm of her control? Not that anything more than choosing what color to wear had ever been in her control, but at least she’d been safe.
Lord,
she prayed,
please let us live through this!
Silent tears scorched her cheeks.
Crunch.
The men were close.
Snap.
Too close. Discovery was inevitable. A sob hovered at the base of her throat and she bit the inside of her cheek until the tang of blood leeched onto her tongue. She and Brian would be killed in a matter of minutes. All she wanted was to sink into the ground and disappear forever.
“They’re going to find us, we have to move,” she rasped, the hoarse whisper hysterical even to her ears.
Their eyes locked and the intensity in Brian’s eyes transformed from militaristic efficiency to a glow of compassion. A measure of warmth—his warmth—seeped from him and
into her, lending her a sliver of calm to cling to. “Trust me, Lydia,” he murmured, each word a soothing balm, soft and smooth as velvet. Brian shifted silently to position the hard length of his body directly over hers, holding her in place. The weight of his hulking frame should have been suffocating, crushing, but with the shouts of their captors drifting ever closer she felt
safe
pinned beneath him, his strength enveloped her, hid her from the world. He dropped his mouth to her ear, the bristle of his chin softly scratching her cheek. “Steady, love,” he whispered, the words little more than a warm wisp of air in her ear. It was as though he knew her fear and held the secret to pull it all away—he’d been a soldier, he probably had more experience with this brand of fear than anyone should come to know. “Stay with me, now, it’s just you and me. No one here but us. Hold to this moment, love. Hold onto me.”
Lydia cringed into the warm strength of his chest, curling his shirt into fists. The rush of his breathing was slow and steady, his hand closed around her upper arm with firm, reassuring pressure. In his touch she keenly understood his unspoken promise… Brian would protect her, keep her safe. As long as she held to him no harm would come to her. A small measure of calm washed through her. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut and drew a slow, steadying breath, doing her best to relax against the bed of sweet smelling grass. Already the men’s thrashing was growing distant and she understood Brian’s reasoning for hiding in the tall grass. Who would be fool enough to search for them in a wide open space?
Abruptly, Brian’s head raised. Lydia opened her eyes a crack to see what was going on. For a long moment he held perfectly still, poised and on alert, his green eyes taking in all that surrounded them. A loud crack sounded not five feet from away. Brian started. Lydia snapped her eyes shut again, there were some things one did not need to see and, in her book, impending doom was at the top of that list.
Soon all stomping of human feet dissipated and nothing more than the twitter of birds or occasional scolding of squirrels interrupted the steady rustle of the leafy canopy surrounding their small haven.
Lydia sighed, opening her eyes, and was struck forcibly by the sight of Brian—still lying quite inappropriately on top of her—maintaining his vigil of the surrounding area. The man was a god, and not just for his looks, though he resembled a statue of Adonis in no small measure, but
because he’d heroically rescued her twice in the last day. Or perhaps he’d saved her more than twice… given the jumble of events in her mind it was near impossible to separate them.
She sighed again, this time wistfully, and visually caressed the face she’d dreamed of over the years. He was more handsome than she remembered, his skin tanned from hours in the sun, a dark brow sat over deep set, thickly lashed eyes. Sensual eyes. The set of his jaw was formidable and rugged with a shadow of black whiskers lining his chin. His mouth, full and perfectly formed, was set in a grim line. How would it look to see him smile? How would his countenance change? Her eyes drifted across his powerfully broad shoulders, along his muscular arms. She turned her head to the side, observing the hand embedded in the grass beside her head. His were hands that had seen a hard day’s work, hands that were rough and calloused, scarred and fascinating. Sinfully Lydia strove to commit every hardened swell of Brian’s lean body stretched atop hers to memory. Her thoughts traveled back to Olivia’s lecture of what transpired between husband and wife. Lydia dared to picture Brian in the role…
Without warning Brian turned to lock his unsettling gaze on hers, his expression unreadable. The heat of a crimson flush seeped into her cheeks.
Oh, no. Don’t blush. Not now!
But it was too late, her cheeks must be flaming, and Brian would have no difficulty reading the improper train of her thoughts; it was mortifying. The hint of a smile rolled across his lips, lending a boyishly mischievous quality to his features. The heat in her face intensified.
“Were ye thinkin’ of somethin’ that should make ye blush, Miss Lydia?” his tone was light, teasing, as he leaned in until their noses might well have been touching.
“I—you,” she breathed, flustered. “No.”
He grinned, pulling back slightly, and the gesture melted years away from his face, or perhaps not so much years as hard life experience. His eyes crinkled at the corners and a dimple winked from the left corner of his mouth. Her heart flopped. “Were ye hoping I might kiss you again, Lass?”
The breath hitched in her throat. What a rogue to suggest such. Never mind that it was true. Would he dare? Would she let him? Blood rushed hot with renewed life in her veins. Yes. Yes, she would. “There is a bit of the devil in you.”
Brian winked. “So I’ve been told.”
“Why did you kiss me, Mr. Donnelly?”
His shoulders rolled in a nonchalant shrug. “I’d thought we were about to die, it seemed the thing to do at the time.”
The lingering excitement of his kiss fizzled and
died
. “The thing to do?”
She gasped, incredulous. “Indeed.”
How insulting.
It was her first kiss after all. To have heaven and earth move and the angels sing only to find he’d felt none of the same. Equal parts hurt and fury flared within her, she grasped the fury, planted both palms to the flat of his chest and heaved. “Get off me!”
Brian rolled sideways into the grass, grimacing at her outburst. “Would ye keep it down, Miss Lydia, we’re not out of this yet.”
“Sorry,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
“Impatient is what ye are.” He sighed, rising on an elbow and moving to face her. “Forget I said that. Miss Lydia, it is I who should be apologizin’. It was terribly ill mannered of me to behave so inappropriately with a proper lady such as yerself. I am sorry for any offense.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Donnelly, if I am not immediately inclined to accept.” She didn’t know which was worse, the fact he was apologizing for the kiss or that her betraying heart wanted nothing more than to feel his lips upon hers again. She wanted to know the fire he’d lit within her and never douse it.
“Suit yerself.” He settled against the grass, folding his arms behind his head as though he had every intention of taking a nap. “Rest assured it’ll not be ruinin’ my day.”