"What? What is it, if it's not my nature that gives you such fear of me?"
"It's . . . You did not choose me, Alexandra."
"What do you mean?"
Collin could feel his fingers shake as he shoved them through his hair. "This marriage was simply the least, of two evils for you. Me or another scandal. You would not have chosen me as a mate."
"Collin . . ." Her lips curved in a fierce frown. "That's ridiculous. I chose you. I lured you to that cottage—"
His sharp gesture cut her off. "You chose me to lie with, not to marry."
"But—"
"Sleeping with a common bastard is one thing, but even you said you wouldn't deign to marry one."
"I. . . I didn't!"
"You did. When I accused you of trapping me into marriage."
"Oh, for God's sake, you were yelling at me."
"So?"
"So, I was mad! And speaking of mad, your explanation is completely ridiculous. All those suppositions apply to you more so than me. You had absolutely no choice at all."
"Of course I did."
"Oh, how so? Marry me or take a bullet to the head? Live with shame the rest of your life? What kind of choice is that? But I wanted you, Collin. I wanted you so much that I married you knowing you didn't want that."
He stared, jaw sore with tension, and began to feel the smallest stirrings of hope. "But you are a lady, the daughter of a—" He blocked the little fist she threw at his chest. "What?"
"I love you, you idiot. I love you."
"But. . . But why have you never said so?"
"Why have you never said so?" Tears glittered in her eyes, magnifying the blue hurt.
"You had too much power over me already."
"What power?"
His bark of laughter cleared the thickness from his throat. "You rule my body, my soul."
"You barely even speak to me!"
He dared a step closer to her, dared to reach out and take her clenched hand. "I'm sorry, wife. Truly I am. I never meant to treat you so badly. I just. . .
"Nothing in my life excited me anymore until I brought it to you. A mare pregnant, a sale—the magic was all in the anticipation of telling you about it, and I thought. . . I thought you must leave me some day. Go back to your real life and leave me with nothing. I meant to keep my pride, at least, since you had my heart."
Collin was sure he'd seen nothing more beautiful in his life than her face then, at that moment, softening into tenderness for him. Her fingers reached to smooth a curve over his brow.
"I love you, Collin. I only left because you pushed me so far away. I'd thought I could make you love me, but I couldn't seem to manage it."
He caught her hand and pressed it hard to his mouth, felt her fingers curl to cup his jaw. "Come home, caitein" he whispered into her skin. "Come home with me, wife. Please." She did not answer his plea.
"I want your help. I want your help with the money and with the manor house. You and Fergus can share an office even, in the new home. I won't blink an eye, I swear."
"Truly?" She laughed at his nod. "And you won't let me be lonely anymore?"
"Never," he moaned, and kissed her, breathing all his fears and needs into her mouth. "Please forgive me."
"You'll take meals with me? Every day?"
"Yes." A kiss.
"And you'll let me work in the stables?" "Aye." Another.
"And I may wear my breeches?" He froze at that, lifted his head. "Ah . . ." Her soft giggle nearly brought tears of relief to his eyes. "Maith me duit" she murmured, her hands urging his head closer again.
"What?"
"Maith me duit. I forgive you. Didn't I say it right?"
"Christ help me, I'll never keep a secret now." Her hands pulled him down and he opened his lips to her stroking tongue before he pulled away again. "Mmm. That was easy. I'd no idea you were such a soft heart."
Distracted by the feel of her round bottom in his hand, Collin neglected to block this punch, and her fist, small as it was, turned out to be much sturdier than his left ear. His soft-hearted wife seemed quite satisfied with his howl.
Chapter 22
Alexandra had never felt so buoyant, so happy. Even when she'd handed over Damien's letter to Collin. . . Even as she'd watched him curse and scowl and mutter vile threats of retribution. . . she'd had to work hard at seriousness. His foul mood did not make her cringe or pout. She was happy.
Her heart had flipped quite acrobatically when Collin looked up from his third reading, gentled his features, and apologized for "putting her in a position of believing that little prick's threats." In short, he understood. Truly.
And now even Collin had relaxed, riding abreast of her borrowed nag, though his eyes roamed the trees ahead and his hand stayed close to his pistol. Brinn tagged along quite happily behind them, naked back twitching beneath the midday sun. Collin and Alex did not speak but snuck dozens of smiles at each other, until she was hard-pressed not to giggle at each touch of his eyes.
She felt like a bride, finally. Like an innocent girl just stripped and stroked for the first time. She actually blushed at the thought.
Collin growled from her left. "Are you thinking of last night, wife, or the night to come?"
She let her laughter free. "Both."
"And what about this afternoon?"
"This afternoon?"
His wolf smile was back. Alex squealed like a cornered lamb when his long arm shot out and plucked her from the saddle to ride his lap instead.
Thor danced sideways under the strange weight, and Alex reached in panic for a handhold. She found one—a perfect one—and felt the huge expansion of Collin's chest as her fingers tightened convulsively.
"Shit," he gasped, a croak of pleasure and alarm.
"Sorry!" she squeaked, releasing her grip.
"Just glad you didn't fall off and take it with you." The words were strained, but he composed himself enough to grab her hand and tuck it back into his lap. "Not so tight this time, lassie."
She wiggled her hip against him, easing closer to his growing length. Thor shied again. Collin bit her neck. "Mm."
"I don't think Thor appreciates the weight," he murmured, lips sliding over her skin to her ear. "Mm."
"He's tired, probably. Needs a rest."
"Yes."
"There's a stream just ahead. A clearing. And we must stop for lunch."
"Perfect."
And so their day went.
They were not three miles from Westmore when Alex shook her head to clear away the haze of languid satisfaction. "It was Jeannie in Fergus's bed, I hope."
"And how could you know that?"
"Instinct." Her eyes flew to his and away again. "I did not know she'd been to his bed."
"He says he will ask for her hand."
"Oh, Collin! That's—"
The world slipped, shifted under her, spinning till it hit her face. The whole of the earth seemed to have landed on her chest and she could not draw a breath past the weight.
"Alex!" Hooves danced near her head. She saw Collin's face above her as he slid from the saddle, saw him look to the horse, saw a stream of blood flowing from the gelding's chest. Then a pistol clutched in a fist fell from the sky and her husband dropped away, disappearing from her vision.
Air flooded suddenly into her stunned lungs. "Collin," she coughed when she had enough air to exhale. She could not roll her eyes far enough to see him, so she forced her cringing body to push to the side. Shadows swam before her like fish darting through water.
"Greetings, Lady Westmore. What a pleasure to see you again."
The shadows melted together to form a man.
"I do not appreciate being ignored, my dear. Lied to again. But perhaps this is for the good. Your husband is better leverage than a threat, after all. And if you refuse to turn over the money, I will simply rid myself of the underlying problem."
"Damien?"
"Oh, my name still sounds so lovely on your lips."
She searched the road at his feet till she found her husband, still and bloody. "What have you done?"
"He is only unconscious."
"But. . . Why?"
"I warned you to leave the money. Imagine my disappointment when I found you had left without paying me."
"I didn't. . . I meant to return with it."
"Oh, what a pretty liar you are. No, you meant to leave your brutish husband; however, I did not worry. I knew he'd retrieve you, animal that he is."
"I have the money, the jewels. I'll turn them over."
"Yes, you will. Or I'll slit his ugly throat."
"No! You can't—"
"Come, let's get off this road, shall we? I've a campsite just off this trail. Too bad he's too heavy to lift."
He turned away, busied himself with rope and the horses. Alex tried to heave herself up and managed to raise her chest from the ground.
"What a pity. Your face will swell. We shall have to say he beat you. That is in keeping with his nature, is it not?"
"No," she mumbled and folded her legs beneath her. If she could stand, perhaps—
St. Claire bent over her, pulled her wrists up and tied them together. Even the barest try at resistance set her arms shaking.
"You're not going to vomit on me, are you? Good." He patted her head. Alex blinked at the swarm of dots before her eyes. "I will help you to mount. If you try to escape, you'll come along behind your husband."
She realized, in a sudden rush of horror, what he'd been doing with the rope. Collin lay on the road, hands limp and tied above his head. The rope bound him to Thor's saddle. He was to be dragged.
"No!" Her eyes rolled again, taking in every jagged edge of every rock that jut from the roadside. They found the small hint of a trail and the litter of branches and tree roots across it. "No, you'll kill him."
"Oh, it's not far. And I can't possibly lift him. A moment, please." He held up an elegant hand to stop her words before reaching for the trailing rein of the injured horse. She was thankful for the moment to think, thankful till he led the horse a few feet into the brush and slit its throat.
A sob and a rush of bile choked her.
"What?" St. Claire scoffed when he returned. "Was I to leave it limping about for anyone to find?"
Alex stared at his bloody hand as he wiped a crimson streak over a handkerchief. She bent over to be sick, but the wave of nausea passed.
"All right, come along. Into the saddle."
By the time he'd dragged her to her feet and led her to Thor, she'd begun to beg. She had no thought of pride or will, she only wanted Collin alive. "Please," she pled. "Don't do this."
"For God's sake, shut your mouth. You always did talk too much."
She pushed up, tried to straddle Collin's saddle, and nearly tumbled to the ground.
"Here. Let me help." His hateful hands pushed up and under her skirts, shoving dress and petticoat to the tops of her thighs. "That should be easier. Taken to wearing drawers, have you?"
She shivered and made herself swallow her cries when his fingers edged underneath the drawers, and she sat forward in the saddle to keep his hand from exploring further. Still, he traced over her, touching flesh still tender from her husband's attention.
"He's been at you already, has he?" The touch lifted from her, thank God. She watched him wipe his wet hand over her skirts, horrified to see the red crescents of horse blood under his nails. "Punishment for running away?"
"No."
"Was he rough with you, Alex dear?" "Shut up."
"Perhaps you like it rough. I wouldn't be surprised."
"Keep your hands off her, you filthy whoreson."
A little scream leapt past her lips, part joy that Collin was alive and part horror that he would antagonize their captor.
"Ah, Blackburn. Happy to have you join us. Hope you can keep your legs under you." With that, he led Thor to his own horse and mounted, leading Brinn as well.
Alex twisted and stretched, trying to guard Collin with her eyes, as if her gaze could keep him safe. He had pushed to his feet, thank God, and stumbled behind them on the trail, blood dripping down his face. She prayed fervently, prayed he would not fall to his knees and be dragged. The trail would shred his legs, and Brinn crept close behind him, hooves like stones waiting to crush.
Thankfully, the trail had grown over with vine and brush and slowed them to a careful walk. Collin tried to catch her eye, but he could not look away from his feet for long and Alex could not think well enough to interpret his brief stares.
The smell of crushed fir needles overwhelmed her suddenly, the scent sharp and acrid in her nose, her mouth. She had to turn away from Collin to lean over Thor's neck and retch. She heard the harsh pant of Collin's breath even over her own sickness.
