Sapphire Dream (21 page)

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Authors: Pamela Montgomerie

BOOK: Sapphire Dream
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Is this how it would end, then? They’d find Hegarty, convince him to send her home, and this would be it? Part of her wanted that desperately. An end to the confusion and chaos. A return to her world, her well-ordered life.
But part of her dreaded the thought of never seeing Rourke again. He’d become important to her so quickly—for obvious reasons. He knew where they were going, how to get food, how to fight with actual weapons. But his importance somehow transcended the obvious.
As she’d told him this morning, he drove out the cold. In a matter of days, they’d formed a bond she couldn’t explain. A bond that, at least for her, went far beyond their mutual attraction.
She liked him. A lot. Maybe too much.
And in a matter of hours she might never see him again.
He lay on the plaid, fastening the blanket and belt around him. He then stood and tossed the extra length over his shoulder, tucking it into his belt.
“What think you?”
Oh, man. Braveheart come to life.
“Amazing. Instant Highlander. It may be a poor man’s garb, but it looks good on you, Pirate.” The understatement of the year.
He cocked his head with a small grin. “Do ye think?”
She laughed at the pleasure in his eyes. Her gaze slowly slid down his strong, muscular legs. “Oh yeah.”
He reached for her and pulled her lightly against him, then quickly stepped back to keep distance between them even as his hands clasped at her back.
“I wish to kiss ye, lass,” he said, his eyes warm silver.
Sweet heat washed through her and she lifted her hands around his neck and pulled his face down to meet hers, but he resisted, taking it slow. He kissed her, lips closed, for long moments, a mere press of one mouth to another.
He was being excruciatingly gentle with her, but the tremors in his hands telegraphed his desire loud and clear. Rather than tell him she wasn’t quite so breakable, she showed him, opening her mouth over his and sliding her tongue between his lips.
With a groan, he took her invitation, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue sweeping inside on a thrust of hot possession.
The heat intensified until her breath was ragged, and her pulse raced. They tasted, devoured one another, her hands deep in his hair, his own becoming more and more frantic as they moved over her back and lower, pressing her against him, against the hard evidence of his arousal.
She pushed her hips against him, wanting the feel of him.
Needing
him.
Rourke wrenched back. He cradled her face and rested his forehead on hers as he took a deep, unsteady breath.
“Forgive me.” His tone was worried, regretful. “I lose all reason when I touch you.” He lifted his head, his hands sliding over her shoulders and upper arms. “You’re shaking.”
She met his silver gaze and smiled. “Not from fear.” She couldn’t hold the smile. “From wanting you.”
And she did want him.
Her
way. Slowly, carefully. Her in control. And she had no doubt that he would do that for her—when the time was right.
His eyes drifted closed as he visibly struggled for control. “Ah, Wildcat. Ye slay me.” He opened his eyes and gazed at her with such thinly controlled passion, she thought she would melt in his hands.
“I want you more than breath. If you’ll have me. If ye can. But now is not the time.”
“I know. We have to find Hegarty.”
He released her slowly, then grabbed his boots and sat on one of the rocks in the cave to pull them on.
“How fare your feet, Wildcat?”
“My feet?” Not the part of her anatomy that was currently drawing her attention. “They’re surviving.”
“I wish to see them.” He stood and pushed her gently down onto the rock.
Why did she get the feeling he was up to something?
He knelt before her and took first one boot off, then the other, and examined each of her feet.
“You’ve blisters.”
“It’s not a problem since we’re riding now. I haven’t had to walk much.”
“Close your eyes.”
Brenna narrowed her brows with confusion. “Why?”
He reached up and cupped her jaw with his warm hand. “Trust me.”
A smile tugged at her lips. Had he somehow hidden another gift like he had the soap? Comfortable shoes, maybe?
As she closed her eyes, she felt his hands on her ankles, pushing her feet together. Then the brush of rope against the backs of her heels. With a gasp, she realized what he was up to.
“Rourke!” Her eyes flew open and she tried to kick free of the rope, but he was too quick. And too strong. She stared in disbelief as he tightened the knot binding her ankles together.
“What are you doing?”
Rourke stood, his eyes filled with regret as he backed away from her. “Forgive me, Wildcat. I canna take you with me. ’Tis too dangerous. The knot is firm, but you’ll cut yourself free quickly enough.”
She tried to tear at the rope, but like he said, it was too tight.
“You couldn’t simply ask me to stay here?” Her chest hurt, a physical pain.
“Would you have said aye?” His tone told her he already knew the answer. So he would force her. Betray her unquestioning trust.
He backed out of the cave slowly, carefully, shoulders hunched like a man who knew he was destined to live the rest of his life in the doghouse.
Her heart began to pound with unreasoning fear. “Rourke, don’t do this! Please don’t leave me here like this.”
Frantically, she dug at the uncooperative knot, breaking a fingernail down to the quick.
“Cutter and the others are awaiting me in Monymusk. I’ll not endanger you again.”
“What if he kills you? You’d leave me here to die?”
He turned, the sun sparking golden highlights in his brown hair. “You have a knife, Wildcat. Use it to cut through your bonds, but I’ll be away before ye do.”
His face filled with regret. “Trust me, lass. I’ll return for you. Be here so that I can find you, eh?”
Then he turned and left.
“Rourke! Don’t you dare leave me here. I’ll kill you, Pirate!”
But he didn’t reply. Moments later, the sound of retreating hoofbeats met her ears.
“Damn you!” She cursed him with every word she knew as she lowered herself back onto the rock and dug the knife out from the scabbard strapped to her thigh. As soon as he returned, she’d kick him in the balls so hard he’d never stand straight again.
Then
she’d kill him.
As she worked to cut the heavy rope, fear overwhelmed her anger. What if he didn’t come back? What if he’d simply decided she was too much trouble and wanted to be rid of her?
What if they killed him?
The rope came loose in her hands and she ripped it off her ankles and ran out of the cave, but he was already little more than a speck in the distance. She stood there, shaking with the magnitude of her powerlessness, with the utter devastation of his betrayal, until the speck disappeared.
“
Damn
him.”
Unshed tears burned her eyes. She’d sworn she would never be helpless again. Now here she was, without a horse, without money. Without Rourke.
What if he never came back?
This was all Hegarty’s fault. What right did he have to rip her away from everything she’d worked for? If it weren’t for him, she’d be worrying about tomorrow’s menu selections, not men trying to kill her. She’d be at the restaurant, or the gym, not trapped in a cave in the hills of seventeenth-century Scotland with no horse. With no pirate.
Alone.
Again.
Anger and apprehension tore at her nerves, shredding her courage and her heart.
She’d trusted him, dammit, and he’d betrayed her. He’d been so gentle this morning. So sweet. Then he’d turned around and stripped the last ounce of control from her fingers. Without asking. Without discussion. He’d made the decision she wasn’t coming.
The sun beat warm on her shoulders. Too warm, so she turned with leaden feet and returned to the coolness of the cave. As she sank down onto the rock, her gaze caught the contents of his bundle, wrapped loosely in his discarded pants. He’d left her the food. And her soap.
She pressed her fingers to her closed eyelids.
He hadn’t betrayed her. She hated the way he’d handled it, but she knew deep down he’d done it to protect her. He was captain of his ship, used to giving orders.
She
wasn’t used to following them, which he knew all too well by now, so he’d avoided the confrontation altogether.
He’d come back for her.
If he could.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she first heard it. Faint thunder, but continuous . . . and moving closer.
Horses.
More than a couple. Three? Maybe four?
Brenna jumped up and moved toward the mouth of the cave, then stopped. She needed to stay hidden. The pirate knew where to find her. If he wasn’t one of the riders, she didn’t want to be found.
The pounding of the horse’s hooves grew stronger, echoing the beating of her heart. They sounded as if they were coming straight for her.
She dug out her knife.
Please let them go by and not see the cave.
She heard the horses slow, stop. But there were no voices, no sound of men at all.
Moments later shadows darkened the mouth of the cave and three men stepped into the opening, swords drawn. Two wore blue coats. The third man faced her, an evil, leering grin slicing across a heavily pock marked face.
Cutter.
 
 
Rourke rode toward Monymusk, his heart heavy as iron. Brenna’s green eyes, clouded with confusion, brittle with the knowledge of betrayal, haunted him.
He’d had to do it. There had been no other way.
But the knowing brought no relief to the hollow ache in the pit of his stomach.
As guilt rode his shoulders, he vowed to make it up to her by finding Hegarty and convincing the wee troll to send her back where she belonged. He knew he could do it. He’d want his sapphire, of course, but Hegarty could take her there himself, then return with his gem. And Rourke would insist he did. Brenna needed to be away from here. He wanted her safe.
Ahead rose the familiar sight of the town where he’d spent so many hours as a lad. Here he’d gotten into his first fistfight at the age of seven and stolen his first kiss from pretty Isobel McPherson at the age of nine. Here his mother had taken him for sweet treats and his father had bought him his first knife.
Here, burning with vengeance over a minor injustice, he’d brought the evil of the Earl of Slains down upon them all. The lad within him who was to inherit Picktillum had died that day, twenty years ago. Rourke had spent two-thirds of his life keeping him buried. He was not resurrecting him now.
A pox on Hegarty for his meddling. For all his strange and sly ways, Hegarty poked and prodded him like the worst of fishwives. Indeed, there were times when he’d likely not have survived if Hegarty hadn’t appeared, weaving in and out of his life at critical moments.
His knuckles turned white on the reins as he urged the horse forward. He would not find Hegarty by standing out here. And he would not be rid of the ghosts of his past until he accomplished what he’d come for.
As he rode toward the village, he stopped a tall youth leading a cow.
“Slains’s soldiers. Are they here?”
The lad’s eyes widened. “Nay. Are they comin’?”
“Aye. I fear so.” Had he gotten here ahead of them? As ready as he was to fight Cutter to the death, it was far better to snatch Hegarty and be away before the soldiers’ arrival.
“Och, ’tis a dark day, then.” The lad tugged harder on the cow’s lead, hurrying away.
As Rourke continued toward the village, he wondered if he’d truly beaten them here or if the trap they’d laid for him was farther out. They were likely watching the roads into town. The main road from the east, in particular. But Rourke and Brenna had circled around and Rourke had entered town from the west. They’d not have been expecting that. Mayhap his fortunes were beginning to turn.
The village bustled with activity, people scurrying about their business before the dark clouds on the horizon dumped their rain. Monymusk was much as he remembered, though smaller somehow. He’d grown since then.
Without giving conscious thought to his destination, Rourke found himself before the door of Jamie McBean’s, his favorite shop as a lad. Memory crashed over him. He wanted nothing to do with the place, but even as the thought pounded through his brain, his hands and knees urged his mount forward, directly toward the shop. As if pulled by an invisible force, he dismounted and tied up his horse, then climbed the stairs to the merchant’s.

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