Carnal Gift (17 page)

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Authors: Pamela Clare

Tags: #Historical Romance

BOOK: Carnal Gift
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Brighid held her skirts with her free hand, struggled to keep up with him. He seemed to move without making a sound, as he had that night when they’d fled the
iarla
’s house. His pistol had somehow appeared in his hand, and a shiver ran through her when she saw it was already cocked.
Back across the hilltop they ran, until they came to the mound where they’d stopped before. They took shelter behind it.
The stallion’s shrill screams filled the air.
The men’s voices were clear now.
“It’s going to kill me!”
“Hold tight! Don’t let it pull free!”
A chill ran down her spine as she recognized the second voice. It was the man who’d kidnapped her, who’d groped her, fondled her breasts. The man in her nightmares.
“You recognize that voice?”
She nodded, feeling sick. The
iarla
’s man.”
His jawline grew rigid. His gaze hardened to jade. She closed her eyes, sank back against the mound, fought to quell a wave of panic.
“Take this.”
She glanced down at the object he’d pressed into her hands, closed trembling fingers over the polished wooden handle of a dagger.
“Don’t hesitate to use it.”
The memory of that long ride, of that awful man’s hands on her body, flashed through her mind. Rage mixed with fear. “I won’t.”
“Stay here no matter what, do you understand? Hide inside if you must, legends be damned.”
“Aye, but—“
“But what?”
Don’t leave
me alone!
The words were on her tongue, but she swallowed them. She looked into his eyes, subdued her fear. “Be careful.”
He gave her a teasing, lopsided grin. “Why, Brighid, I didn’t know you cared.”
With that, he was gone.
Jamie crept around the side of the mound, considered his options. He doubted Sheff’s servants would have orders that permitted them to harm him. Still, he could not be certain. Sheff was not the man he remembered. If it became necessary to defend himself, he’d have only one shot. There might not be time to reload.
Ordinarily, his dagger would serve as a backup in that situation. Takotah had taught him to throw knives as a boy, and he was almost as accurate with a dagger as with bullets. But he couldn’t leave Brighid without some means of protecting herself. If anything happened to him, she would be helpless. They would find her, and . .. He brushed the thought aside, focused on his quarry. Bent low, he ran toward the largest set of rings, crept along their outer edge. As he came round the circle, he could see two men struggling to restrain Hermes, who bucked and reared, deadly hooves slicing the air. They were not far now.
Hermes whinnied in panic and rage, the whites of his eyes flashing.
“For God’s sake, shoot it! It’s broken my arm!”
“Grab the bridle! Hold its damned head!”
“My arm!”
Jamie chose his moment. “Let him go!” The two men whirled about, gasped, dropped the reins.
The stallion reared, galloped away.
Jamie did not recognize one of them. The stranger cradled his limp arm, his face pale and covered with a sheen of sweat. But the other, the man with the dark, bushy hair and the pimple-scarred face, Jamie recognized as Sheff’s lackey. Edward was his name. Jamie knew instinctively which man Brighid feared, which man haunted her dreams. He felt an overwhelming urge to smash his fist into Edward’s ugly face.
Edward smiled, gave a nervous laugh, spoke in an oily voice. “There you are. I knew it was your horse. Didn’t I?” He looked at the other man.
The man nodded, his gaze fixed on Jamie’s pistol.
“Such a fine animal. We thought it had run off, escaped, didn’t we?”
The other man nodded forcefully, hugged his forearm to his chest. “We saw the horse and ... Oh, damn, it hurts!”
“Stop your bleating! You frightened that poor stallion, and because of that we’re looking down the barrel of a pistol.” Edward hunched his shoulders submissively, gave an unctuous grin. “You don’t really mean to shoot us, do you, sir? We weren’t trying to steal the beast.” Jamie could see the fear in both men’s eyes, caught their nervous glances. “Get back on your horses, and ride out of here, and I’ll let you live. This time.” “Oh, now, sir!” Edward looked at Jamie imploringly. “We’ve done nothing to earn your ire. We’re two simple servants riding out on our master’s business when we noticed your horse all by itself.”
Jamie was not fooled. “Move your hand one inch closer to your pocket, and I’ll put a bullet through your forehead.” Edward’s face paled, and he slowly raised his hands. “You remember what I can do with a gun, don’t you, Edward? You were there that day on the hunt when I brought down the stag.”
Edward nodded, licked his lips. “A fine shot you are, sir, but there’s no need—“ “You were there when we rode into the crowd of Irish peasants. You helped murder the priest, didn’t you? And when you were done, you went after her.”
Edward had begun to sweat. Droplets pearled amid the stubble on his upper lip. “I-I don’t know what you’re gettin’ on about. I didn’t—“
“Oh, but you did, Edward. I know Sheff had the priest murdered. And I know you kidnapped her, took her from her family, abused her, delivered her to the earl.” Jamie took a menacing step forward. “Are you always such an obedient toady?”
“There’s no reason for insults.” Edward took a step backward. “I didn’t harm the girl. I was sent to fetch her for you. You must be pleased with His Lordship’s gift, since you took her with you. You might say I did you a favor.”
“Did me a favor?” Jamie laughed, a harsh sound even to his own ears, but his aim did not waiver. “Two servants out on their master’s business, you say? Pray tell, what is that business?”
“Just lowly errands, sir.” Edward smiled again, shrugged. “Nothing as would interest a gentleman such as yourself.”
“Is that so?”
Both men nodded.
“Is she here, sir?” Edward glanced about. “Or have you tired of her and put her aside?”
Jamie did not answer, let the silence stretch. His rage grew. He didn’t want this man thinking of Brighid, let alone speaking of her.
Edward squirmed, hands still in the air. “His Lordship has no quarrel with you, sir. But the girl’s family is lookin’ for her, and it was his job to look after her and all. It’s a matter of honor, if you take my meanin’, sir. The earl won’t do nothin’ to her you ain’t already—“ Jamie moved so quickly he had Edward by the throat before either man could react. He pressed the pistol hard against Edward’s temple. “You know nothing about honor! Listen carefully, toady. I’ve a message for your master. You tell Sheff I know he’s hunting for her. But if he so much as touches her, or anyone dear to her, I’ll be hunting him—with a knife between my teeth! And I won’t fail. Have you got that?”
Edward nodded, eyes bulging, clawing desperately at the hand that cut off his breath.
Jamie’s nostrils were assailed by the stench of Edward’s unwashed flesh and rotting teeth. The thought of this man touching Brighid was utterly revolting, filled him with blind rage. It was all he could do to keep himself from breaking the bastard’s neck. “As for you . . . If I so much as see you again, if you come anywhere near her, I will kill you.”
He took the poorly concealed pistol from Edward’s pocket, thrust the man from him.
Edward rubbed his bruised throat, staggered backward.
“I’ll just be goin’ then.”
“You do that.”
Edward turned and hurried downhill toward the two horses tethered below. The other man followed, cradling his broken arm.
Jamie watched them ride off, certain they would carry his message to their master, but sure he had not seen the last of them.
When they had vanished round the bend, he turned to find Brighid standing nearby, Hermes’s reins in one hand, the dagger in the other.
“I thought I told you to stay where you were!” Anger with Sheff and fear for her safety made his voice sharp. He snatched the dagger from her hand, slipped it back into his boot.
“What if you’d been hurt?”
He lifted her none too gamely into the saddle, put his foot in the stirrup, and mounted behind her. “You’d have managed only to get yourself captured again. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not!”
“Then do as you’re told!”
She muttered something in Gaelic under her breath, cast him a furious glance.
He urged Hermes to a canter, turned the stallion’s head to the west, away from Rhuaidhri and the cabin.
“Where—“
“They might try to track us. I’m going to put them off the scent.”
In silence, they rode west until they came to a small, half-frozen creek. Jamie guided the stallion into the shallow water and let Hermes pick his course southward through water, ice, and slippery stone. Brighid sat stiffly in his lap and seemed to be trying to avoid contact with him. It was just as well. Jamie had nearly come undone today. When she’d asked him to kiss her, it had been on the tip of his tongue to refuse. But his tongue had proved a traitor. It had wanted to taste her sweet lips, to slide inside her warm mouth, to mate itself to hers, consequences be damned.
Jamie had known he was taking a risk touching her. But he’d understood her need and wanted for the world to replace the memories of that night with something better, something real. It was, after all, just a kiss.
He hadn’t expected to find himself pushed to the brink by her sensual response. Untouched though she was, there was passion in her blood, passion that needed only a man’s touch to rouse it. It was a good thing he’d been dressed in his greatcoat and she in her cloak. He’d been able to hide his body’s primal reaction, conceal his fierce hunger for her. It had taken every bit of self-control he possessed to part his lips from hers.
God curse him, but he needed her. He needed her to put out the fire she’d ignited inside him. Yet she was the one woman he could not have. If the situation weren’t so painful, he’d be tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He was consumed by desire for a beautiful woman who considered him her enemy and whose innocence he had all but sworn to protect. What was it he’d said to Fionn?
I’ve no intention of touching your sister.
He’d be lucky if he could think of anything but touching Brighid after today’s folly. When he got back to London, he would head straight for Turlington’s and bed five of the prettiest women there. Five? Hell, he’d bed ten—one after the other.
The stallion tripped on a stone, stumbled.
Brighid gasped.
Jamie tightened his grip round her waist, but Hermes had already regained his footing. “He’s surefooted. I’ll not let you fall.”
She pulled away from him, as far away as she could. It was obvious she was angry with him. But she wasn’t being sensible. He’d done his best to keep her safe, and she’d defied him. Did she truly believe she could have helped him had the situation with those two thugs turned ugly? She’d have found herself overpowered in an instant and on her way to Sheff’s bed—or worse, on her back in the grass. Jamie hadn’t missed the gleam of lust in Edward’s soulless eyes when he’d spoken of her.
Jamie made the mistake of looking down at her face and felt an instant pang of regret. Her cheeks were reddened from the chill, her lips set in a gentle frown, her brow knitted with worry. He had taken her riding to bring a smile to her face and chase her fears away. She was not smiling now, and he knew it was more than her anger with him. Seeing those men had terrified her. When she’d heard that bastard Edward’s voice, her face had gone white as the snow flakes that were beginning to fall around them.
But why should Jamie feel any remorse? It was not his fault.
Still, his conscience assailed him. Hadn’t it been his idea to take her riding in the first place? Hadn’t he exposed her to danger for no better reason than to make her smile? Or had his real motivation been the desire to spend time alone with her?
By the time he’d answered his own questions, he was mad as hell—at himself.
Sheff stared out the window at the falling snow, swirled his cognac, tried to ignore the shooting pain in his arms and legs.
A log settled in the fireplace, breaking the silence.
“Are you certain that’s what he said?”
“Aye, my lord. I’m not likely to forget words spoken by a man pointin’ a pistol at me head.” Sheff turned, glanced at Edward, took a sip. “I should think rather the opposite. Perhaps you were so overwhelmed by fear you misunderstood him.”
“Oh, no, my lord!” The servant shook his head. “He said, “You tell your master I know he’s huntin’ for her. But if he harms her or any of her family, I’ll be huntin’ him with a knife in my teeth, and I won’t fail.’ Pardon me, my lord, but those were his words, not mine.”
“I realize that, Edward. I’m not so stupid or heartless as to blame the messenger for the message.” Sheff looked back toward the darkened window and the fat flakes falling outside. “Damn this bloody snow! If not for this infernal weather, we could have set out early tomorrow with the dogs and perhaps picked up their trail. When the snow lets up, you will take me to the exact spot where you spoke with him.”

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