Authors: Christine Young
His grin widened even farther. His staff had schooled her well. He closed his eyes letting his mind see the real Lainie MacPherson. When he opened his eyes, he tried to imagine Lainie. The girl stood in front of him.
He took her hand and pulled her to sit on him. His finger wound around her waist. He heard her whimper. He grew hard and the burning, pulsing heat swept inside him.
"Lainie, Lainie, touch me," he purred. He didn't wait for her to touch him. He ripped her dress in half down the front. She cried out and tears slid down her cheeks.
"Lainie," he cooed. But the girl was not Lainie MacPherson. He grew soft but the burning need did not vanish.
He let out a wild cry. "Lainie!"
Chapter Four
"Bertram takes what he wants with no regard to anyone else," Lainie said, her voice humming with fury. "He found me alone and--" she stopped, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "If you think to take me anywhere near that pig, you’ll have the biggest fight on your hands you’ve ever seen."
Slade looked away from Lainie’s flashing eyes and pale lips, feeling something close to shame for pushing her so hard. Then he cursed himself for feeling anything at all for the little spy who had done her best to get him killed while she ran to safety.
"When did you meet him?" Slade asked roughly, needing answers to the questions that hung between them.
She looked at him as if she knew he would keep badgering her until she told him everything. "At MacPherson castle."
"That must have been awkward," Slade said dryly, challenging Lainie to tell him all her secrets. "Is that why they kicked you out?"
“That was cruel.”
“But is it the truth?” he asked bluntly.
"Bertram and his men were searching for Callie Whitcomb. They came to the castle to take her back to England."
"Go on."
Though Slade wasn’t looking at Lainie any longer, he was truly interested for the first time. She inhaled a slow discreet breath and kept talking.
"Callie believed my brother Hawke was a friend of her father’s, and she came to the castle seeking refuge from her half-brother. She was wrong. My brother loathed David Whitcomb. When he was a boy, he vowed vengeance against the family," Lainie said. "I think the only person he hated as much or even more was the man Callie had been betrothed to."
Slade turned back to look at Lainie, drawn by the changing emotions in her voice as well as her features.
"All this might be true but what does it have to do with you and your nimble fingers? Why would you take such chances with your life?"
She lowered her lashes in an attempt to avoid answering him. She wove a fine tale, and he guessed somewhere in the story the answers he sought would come to light. He just didn’t know how to get her to lower her guard and tell him. He knew, while Callie Whitcomb might be part of the story, Callie wasn’t all of it or the main part. Something Lainie didn't want to share with him caused the pain that showed in her eyes every time he pushed her for the truth.
"Callie’s fiancé was Lord Huntington," Lainie said simply.
"I’m supposed to draw conclusions from that?"
Lainie nodded.
"You’re going to have to tell me something else. I don’t know Lord Huntington. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what all this has to do with you."
"Nothing," she said simply, turning away from him as if to hide some deep, dark, emotional secret. "Absolutely nothing."
"Wrong answer."
She turned back and smiled sadly. "In some ways you are a very infuriating man. This is not your business. The only one who knows is my maid, and I left her at my ancestral home. I'm certainly not about to tell my darkest secrets to a dark-haired stranger who seems to have settled into my campsite uninvited."
"Another vague statement," Slade said flatly. “You can hide from me forever. I will discover the truth.”
"Why do you think I’m vague? My story is uninteresting and boring. You would fall asleep over the telling of it," Lainie said, nervously crossing her arms in front of her.
"A spy who is bad at lying should find another profession," Slade said watching her closely.
"That’s not what I meant," Lainie retorted. "Let the truth be told? Perhaps I should. I’m sure you wouldn’t believe a word I say."
One of Slade’s black eyebrows rose. "Let me guess. You seduced Bertram, and when he wouldn’t make wedding plans, you tried to kill him. Now he wants revenge so he has planted evidence against you just to get you back to Edinburgh."
Lainie’s smile was as small and cold as the highland locks in the middle of winter. Guilt was something Slade never let himself feel.
"Of course you're right, Englishman. Although I am sure some of the evidence he holds over my head he has falsified."
"Don’t bet on it, little fox. You stole sealed documents from me. We both know it. And now you are on your way to trial."
"I'm not," she told him flatly.
He didn't answer. It would do little good to argue with her. She would end up whereever he chose.
Inhaling deeply, she tossed her head, sending her white-blond hair cascading over her shoulders.
"I thought at first you were different from Jericho, but you’re not," she said. "You haven’t the least idea what it’s like to make your way in a world that is stronger, harder, and crueler than you could ever be."
"You won’t sneak into my good graces by comparing me to the likes of Jericho Slater and his merry band of cutthroats. Jericho is a cruel, hard man and you should count your blessings that he didn't know who you were."
"Mercenaries," Lainie corrected. "They operate with your English king's blessings," she paused, watching him. "I’m not trying to get into your good graces, Englishman."
"You’d better start." The threat was as clear and cold as the crystal water slipping down the rocks. He didn't want to admit even to himself that he did not want her compliance. He was growing used to her spirit and he liked watching her eyes blaze and spit fire.
Lainie’s chin
rose
a notch and her eyes burned blue fire, but she didn’t say what appeared to come to mind. Instead, she watched him with intensity and a passion he'd never seen from a woman.
There was no gentleness now in Slade’s eyes or in the line of his mouth. He was both frustrated and angry. When he spoke again, his voice was cold and remote. He liked watching her spirit but even more, he wanted answers.
"Be satisfied Rory needed to die," Slade said flatly. "If you’d set me up to kill a man, I’d have to let Bear and Rory have you. You wouldn’t have liked that. Bear isn’t one of those kind men you so favor. Neither is Rory."
"He can’t be worse than Jericho or Bertram," Lainie said bleakly. "My memory isn’t dulled by time. I don’t know what he’s capable of, but it can’t be anything worse than Bertram."
"Bear has a reputation with women that’s too sordid to repeat--even to a spying aristocrat who picks pockets that are filled with secret information."
"Did
Bear
ever--" but she broke off leaving Slade without the information he sought from her.
Lainie’s voice crumbled into silence. She clenched her fists tight, and it seemed to Slade she fought for self-control while her entire body shook.
"What are you saying?" Slade asked in a low voice, suddenly wondering what could have her emotions tied in knots and her hands shaking so bad she wouldn't be able to hold onto anything including the tiny dirk she kept laced to her calf.
She shook her head.
Slade cursed softly, wishing for the truth, wishing he could shake it out of her. He wasn't a patient man by nature. His eyes narrowed. "What did Bertram do to you?" Slade asked in a low voice that most men would cower under.
Lainie looked at Slade with pain-filled eyes that were full of tears.
"Bertram doesn’t care about anyone," Lainie said bitterly, wiping away the moisture in her eyes. "He just takes…"
Her words withered into a painful silence. No matter how many times she swallowed, she couldn’t force out any sounds.
"Don’t," Slade said.
He put his finger gently over Lainie’s lips, sealing in the words she was trying to speak. He hated himself for his weakness. He wanted to know what had happened, but he couldn’t force her to say whatever was bothering her. Time would eventually tell him what he wanted to know and probably what he didn't want to know as well. He told himself he could wait until she was ready.
"I guess I’ve overstepped polite society this time. You ever want to tell me, I’ll listen."
Lainie grabbed Slade’s hand, but not to push him away.
"Tell me," she said urgently, her lips trembling. "You killed Bear, didn’t you?"
Slade nodded. He could see the wild pulse at her neck. "Rory too."
She let out a long slow breath and whispered. "Thank you, I only wish it had been someone else so I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder all the time."
All gentleness vanished from Slade’s emotions.
"You want me to kill someone else for you? Could that person be Bertram?" he guessed, once again challenging her for answers despite his earlier vow to wait until she was ready.
"I don’t want anyone killed in my name. I just don’t want to live in fear." With the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"A man’s life is worth less than a little fear. What on earth happened to you?" Slade asked.
Lainie’s mouth tightened. "Ye have no idea."