Authors: Christine Young
It was obvious she was being used by the thieves she worked with, and it was becoming increasingly apparent to Aaron that her own family had possibly disowned her. On the other hand…
"You keep inching your hand toward that dirk," Aaron said without looking up, "and I’m going to drag you out of that bedroll and teach you how a lady should treat a guest."
~ * ~
Lainie froze, stunned by his words. Until he spoke, she would have sworn the man hadn’t even known she was awake. Did he have eyes in the back of his head? “You’re no guest of mine.”
“I am if I say I am.”
"Who are you?" she asked with a quiet realization he was even more dangerous than she’d thought.
"Aaron Slade." As he spoke, he stuffed most of her meager possessions back in her saddlebag. "But most folks call me Slade."
"What do you want?" she whispered from the back of her throat. The words sounded hollow and thin to her ears.
A few wild seconds passed while all Lainie could think of doing was bolting for the underbrush and hiding until Slade gave up and left. But some little voice in the back of her mind told her he wasn’t the kind of man who gave up and went away. So she discarded the hasty scheme.
Slade’s personification of lazy charm no longer fooled her. One too many times she’d seen the way he moved, his hands so fast they blurred. She had no elusions that if she tried to run and hide, she wouldn’t get more than three steps from her bedroll before he caught her. She didn’t want to think what he’d do then.
Ah, but then she knew. He would most likely teach her how to treat a guest, according to Aaron Slade.
"You aren't my guest," she repeated, trying to make a point and hoping the man would leave.
He ignored her for a few more seconds. "Don’t suppose you want to tell me what you plan on doing with the sealed document you stole from me?" Slade asked after a few seconds of watching her with wary green eyes.
"The sealed document?" she asked innocently. “I dinna ken what you mean.”
"Papers with the King's seal stamped on them," he said, seeming to loose patience.
"Papers? Lainie asked again, breathing slowly, trying to asses the situation she’d fallen into. "I don’t know anything about sealed documents." She lied.
"You stole them from the tavern, and if I’m right, you plan on using them for something," Slade said, shooting her a look out of eyes like green ice. "That could be construed as treason."
"No--'tis not treason. I’m Scottish. My family pledges its loyalty to the Scottish King James."
Slade laughed.
It was a cold sound.
"Sure, wee fox," he said mockingly, "you didn’t steal the papers. They just jumped up and slid into your nimble fingers, begging you to take them from my satchel."
"You set a trap."
He smiled but made no confession.
Fear swept through Lainie driving out the strange feelings that had disturbed her since she had seen him run his hands over the papers in the saddlebags. She had only one document with her that could convict her of any crimes. He had already found it, and he'd stuffed the papers into is coat pocket. With the surge of fear, there came a withdrawing of prudence. Once again, her hand eased toward the dirk that lay strapped to her leg.
"Actually, I had hoped to find something I could use against you. I haven't had a chance to read then papers yet, so I couldn't say. You're going to have to give me a chance to inspect the documents."
"Not a chance this side of Hell."
"Why?" Her voice was reed thin. Still, she challenged him.
Slade slanted a disgusted look her way and went back to rummaging in the saddlebag. "I’m not leaving you alone. I'm sure Jericho and his men will have a fine time with you when they catch up to you."
"I have nothing for--" she began.
"Oh, you have a lot for me," he interrupted. "I just didn’t think you’d admit to treason and thievery so quickly."
"'Tis for the cause."
"Why did your partner give you up so easily?" he asked
"Damn you, why won’t you listen to me?" Lainie demanded. She didn’t understand why, but she was furious that Slade thought her capable of treason even though she was.
"I’m listening. I’m just not hearing anything worth believing. You have a great deal of explaining to do."
"Try not acting so superior and know it all. You’d be astonished what you might hear if you weren’t talking all the time." She didn't mean to provoke the man. It was just that he was so infuriating.
The corner of Slade’s mouth twitched, but it was the only indication he gave that he had heard Lainie. Almost absently, he groped in the saddlebag, searching for anything else that might implicate her in the crimes she’d been accused of perpetrating.
"Didn’t think you’d be smart enough to get rid of the evidence," Slade said with satisfaction. "Old Jericho didn’t let any grass grow under his feet before h--"
His speech ended instantly as Slade tossed aside the saddlebag, and uncoiled in a rapid charge that ended with the dirk yanked from Lainie’s fingers but not before the tiny weapon drew blood.
The next moment she found herself wrenched from underneath the blankets and was dangling from Slade’s strong hands like a bag of flour. Panic swept through her. Without thinking, she brought her knee up fast and hard between Slade’s legs as her brothers had taught her to do.
"Why you little piece of spiteful baggage," he muttered. "I don't want to hurt--"
Slade blocked the blow before it could do any harm. When Lainie flew at his eyes with her nails, he buried his face against her neck and dropped with her to the ground.
"Hold still," he warned her.
Before Lainie could take another breath, she found that he’d stretched her out on her back, unable to fight, unable to defend herself, unable to move at all except to take tiny, shallow breaths. Hold still? She couldn't move. A hazy red cloud started to fill her head. She pushed it back, praying she could convince him not to rape her. But Slade’s big body covered every bit of hers, driving the air from her lungs and all thoughts from her mind. The bedroll’s thickness did nothing to cushion her from the hard ground beneath her.
"Let me go," she gasped, tears forming in the corner of her eyes while she struggled to inhale the tiniest bit of air. "Please," she tried begging.
"Do I look stupid?" he asked dryly. "God only knows what other little tricks you have in store for me if I turn my back on you. What else did your mama teach you that can bring a man to his knees?"
"I never knew my mama. She died right after I was born," Lainie gasped, pushing on his chest in a feeble attempt to push him off her. "My brothers--"
"Sure she did," Slade said, apparently indifferent. "I suppose your family neglected you. Left you to clean ashes from the fireplace."
Lainie gritted her teeth and tried to get a grip on the blind terror sweeping through her. "As a matter of fact they did. Didn’t care a fig for me. Left me to fend for myself. I toiled day and night just for the meager crusts of bread they tossed my way. Now get off me."
"Poor little fox," Slade said impatiently. "Stop telling me sob stories or I’ll cloud up and cry all over you. I know darn well that if I get up right now, you'll tear my flesh to ribbons with those wicked nails of yours. So I'm going to wait until you calm down."
"Stop making assumptions about me and get off me, you big oaf."
"Why?" He smiled.
Because I’m terrified of you. But I’ll never give you the satisfaction of knowing it.
"You’re crushing the air right out of me. I can't breathe."
"Oh?"
"What if I promise not to hurt you," she lied.
Slade gazed at her and let some of his weight ease from her. "If you want to be believable, you should try telling the truth. You have the most stunning, incensed face. And it's only a breath from my own," he murmured as if he’d lost all sense of reality.
"I wouldn’t tell the truth to a man like you, a snake in the grass. I despise men--all men."
"Odd," he said his voice low and deep, "you’re not having any problem talking my ear off. After the tales of I've heard about you, why should I believe you hate all men?"
"Why, you overgrown, overstuffed, pompous pig, sword-wielding bastard," Lainie said with ice freezing each word. Then she corrected herself. "No, you’re worse than any of that. You’re a man who relishes making innocent lives miserable. Women who are too weak to--mmph!"
Lainie’s words had been efficiently cut off by Slade’s mouth closing over hers.
For a moment, she was too bewildered to do anything but lie rigid underneath his hard, crushing weight. The she felt the sure thrust of his tongue between her teeth and panicked. All the memories of that day in the woods with Bertram over her and inside her came rushing back with a vengeance. Twisting, kicking trying to fling him off, she fought with every ounce of strength in her body.