Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (12 page)

Though she had seen him without his shirt before, it suddenly struck her that this was not a man accustomed to being ordered around. He rested his hands upon her shoulders, one hand curling around her neck. Gooseflesh rose over her skin, and she suddenly remembered what it was to lie beside this man, to feel his warm breath against her throat.

She broke free of him and opened the jar of salve. “Sit down, please.” Her voice quavered, and she wanted to curse herself for it.

Instead, he caught her waist and leaned down until his mouth was a breath away from hers. “If I let you do this, I’m claiming a boon of my own.”

“This is for your own good,” she protested. “I don’t want you to suffer.”

“You’re being verra demanding.” He rested his forehead against hers.

“I’ll be gentle,” she promised. She didn’t ask what boon he wanted, for she suspected it was a kiss. And although everything within her warned that this was a bad idea, she knew the pain he was enduring.

Margaret took a deep breath, while he sat down. She smeared her hand within the ointment and detected an herbal aroma. Cain’s back was still raw and inflamed, and she began on the edges where the burns weren’t quite as bad. He flinched the moment she touched him but said nothing.

“Mr. Snow told me that no one passed through this village in the past few weeks. Amelia wasn’t here at all.” She smoothed more of the ointment across his back, trying not to hurt him as she did.

“I thought as much.” Cain let out a hiss when she touched another tender area.

“I’ll try to hurry up,” Margaret said. “I know it stings.”

“I’ll be smelling like a garden,” he complained. “And it’s going to get all over my shirt.”

“Does it feel any better?” she asked, dipping her hand back into the salve.

“I’m no’ certain it’s worth the price you paid,” he said. “You could have kissed me to make it better.”

“I cannot say as I have any desire to touch my lips to your back,” she admitted. It would take a few more weeks, months even, for it to fully heal.

“I wasna talking about my back, lass. If you kissed my mouth like you did earlier, I’d be forgetting all about any pain.”

She gave no reply and finished applying the salve, covering up the jar once more. “There. I think that should help.”

Cain took her hand and led her to stand before him. “Thank you, lass.” He held her hands lightly, but she didn’t pull away. A moment later, Mr. Snow returned. Upon one arm, he held a basket.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, I’ve brought the supplies you requested.” He walked inside, and he was followed by another man. “There’s food for a few days.” It was clear that he’d brought the other man to ensure that Margaret kept her word.

“Show me what you’ve brought,” she bade him, twisting off the amethyst ring. She wanted to be certain that it was indeed food within the basket.

He did, and while she examined the contents, he asked, “You came up from London, then?”

Before Margaret could speak, Sinclair intervened. “That’s no’ your concern.” He began pulling his shirt back on, and then he came to stand beside her.

The apothecary sent her a look and asked, “Are you all right, my lady?”

At that, she realized that her clothing made the man believe she had been abducted. “Of course I am,” she insisted. “As I told you, we were looking for my sister when we left London. There was a coach accident, and it took us longer to travel this far.”

The apothecary seemed as if he didn’t quite believe her, and he exchanged a look with the other man. “I’ll take the ring now, my lady. Since I’ve done as you asked.”

“You have,” she agreed. But before she could pass over the ring, Cain stopped her.

“You willna be giving over any jewelry, lass.” Instead, he withdrew a handful of coins from a hidden fold of his plaid and passed them over to the men.

Now where had that come from? He’d had money all this time and had never said a word about it? When she sent him a questioning look, he answered it with his own stare. He wasn’t going to offer an explanation.

Before the apothecary and the other man could leave, Margaret blurted out, “I must ask . . . is there anyone in the village who might be willing to drive us to Scotland in the morning? There would be a greater reward once we reach my sister’s house. She married the Viscount of Falsham, and I would be glad to pay the cost of the journey.”

Once again, the two men exchanged silent glances, but the apothecary paused, staring at Cain. “If you paid in advance, I might find someone.”

“We don’t have enough for that,” Cain interrupted. “But even a blind man could see that she is from a family of wealth.”

A slight smile curved over the taller man’s face. “Is she?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t believe them. “Nay, Snow, they should pay beforehand. If they’ve no more coins, then we can’t help them.”

“But my family
does
have money,” she argued back. “Can’t you see this gown is made of silk?”

“It could have been stolen,” the taller man said. Shaking his head, he escorted the apothecary out. “Come now, Brother. Let them go on their way.”

Frustration welled up inside Margaret. She wasn’t accustomed to being treated like a pauper. Exactly what did they believe of her?

Cain took her shoulders and guided her back. “You look as if you want to go after those men with a blade, lass.”

She wasn’t about to be coddled. “And where exactly did you get any money? Have you had it all this time?”

“Aye. Did you no’ think I’d come prepared?”

“But . . . my necklace.” She reached up to her throat, wishing she hadn’t given it away. Especially since he’d had money to pay for their stay.

“Don’t be worried about that, lass.” An enigmatic look crossed his face, but he only said, “Sit down and have something to eat.”

She supposed he was right. Despite the slight meal they’d had for luncheon, she was utterly starving. At this moment, she was ready to begin gnawing on the wood.

He opened up the basket and offered it to her. It took an effort not to dive at the food and begin stuffing herself. Margaret waited for Cain to break the bread in half, and the moment she took the first bite, she couldn’t eat fast enough. Her stomach was roaring for food, and even the cheese he gave her wasn’t enough to sate her hunger.

“I believe I would trade this gown for a hot meal right now,” she admitted. “And I would eat every last bite.”

In silent response, Cain handed her his remaining cheese.

Margaret paused, startled at his actions. The Highlander was larger than she, with broad shoulders, and undoubtedly he needed more. “I don’t need to take your food, Mr. Sinclair. I’ll manage until we can get more.”

He pressed it into her hand. “Do you think I could eat it, when I ken how hungry you are?”

She stared at the cheese again. Such a small portion would hardly fill either of them, but the gesture was too much. “I’ll take some of it,” she said, breaking the cheese in half.

Margaret couldn’t help but taste the guilt as she finished the rest. Her throat grew dry, and she asked, “Is there any water?”

“I wouldna drink any water from this place,” Cain said. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of spirits from the basket. “We can share this.”

She wasn’t at all keen on the idea of drinking whisky or wine. Though she had tasted the occasional glass of sherry, she usually drank lemonade.

“A wee dram willna hurt you, lass. You can take a sip, and if you don’t like it, I’ll drink the rest.”

Judging from the size of the bottle, he could easily become drunk. And that wouldn’t do at all—she needed him to help her on the journey. She held out her hand for the bottle and decided to take the slightest taste.

She expected a harsh, throat-burning liquor. Instead, there was a sweetness to the drink, rather like summer raspberries.

“This isn’t whisky,” she remarked. “Somehow I thought the apothecary brought something of that nature.”

“It tastes like raspberry wine.” Cain took it from her and drank another swallow before handing it back.

Truthfully, it was the most delicious concoction she’d ever tasted. A warmth flooded through her, relaxing her until she hardly cared that they were staying in a barn.

“Don’t be drinking it too fast, Miss Andrews,” Cain warned, taking a small sip of his own, before he passed it to her.

“It’s not at all like the sherry I’ve tasted. It’s lovely.” She drank out of the bottle where his lips had rested. Her head felt light, and she viewed Cain Sinclair as if from a distance. The raspberry wine was not at all intoxicating, as she’d feared. Instead, it was a welcome drink on a day that had not started out well at all.

My, but he was handsome,
she thought. His long black hair hung around his shoulders, and she wondered what it would be like to touch it again.

She stared at his lips, remembering the earlier kiss. She wouldn’t mind kissing Cain Sinclair again. It was quite nice. If that was the boon he’d mentioned, she could give it now.

“Lass, you shouldna be watching me like that,” he warned. “You look as if you’re wanting something from me.”

“I was thinking about kissing you,” she said. The words came out of her mouth without warning, and she was startled to realize that she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

“You’ve had too much wine,” he said, taking the bottle back. But not before he took a deep swallow, corking it and setting it aside.

“I like that wine,” she said. “And I can’t think that I’ve had more than a glass of it. You needn’t put it away.” Dismay filled her that he would take it from her.

“If you were sober, you wouldna say things like that,” he countered. “It’s time that you got some rest.”

How could he think that she could ever become intoxicated? Margaret prided herself on temperance, and she would never consider allowing spirits to interfere with common sense.

“I am not at all inebriated,” she informed him. “And furthermore, you needn’t dictate to me as if I were a young child in need of sleep.”

There was a smirk on his face that irritated her. “As you say.” He shrugged and leaned back against one of the horse stalls.

“Where do you plan to sleep, Mishter . . . that is, Mr. Sinclair?” she corrected. My, but she couldn’t seem to speak clearly. Her head felt light and fluffy right now.

“In the loft.”

“That’s good,” she agreed. “You should not sleep beside me. You might tempt me into sinning. And I am a good girl.” Narrowing her gaze, she wagged her finger. “Don’t come into my bed.”

“Only when you ask me to,” he agreed.

There was an amused smile on his face that made him even more handsome. She really did like him when he wasn’t scowling at her or telling her what to do. She blinked a moment and dizziness washed over her.

“Not tonight,” she said. Though it would be quite cozy to snuggle in his arms. There were no blankets, but if they lay next to one another, she imagined it would be comfortable.

“And what if your feet get cold?” he asked. “Shall I stay in the loft, even then?”

“They won’t get cold,” she said. “I do have your coat, after all.” She took a step forward, surprised when the ground swayed beneath her. Sinclair was reaching toward the loft ladder, and she decided to warn him.

“The ground is crooked,” she informed him. “You’d best be careful or you might fall.”

“I’ll remember that.” He was fighting a laugh, which she couldn’t understand. It wasn’t funny at all, when she was trying to offer a warning.

Sinclair caught her by the waist and guided her toward a soft pile of hay. It didn’t look like a good place to sleep, but she supposed she’d have to make herself a nest and do the best she could.

“I was wrong about you, you know,” she told him. “You are a very good man.”

“I’m no’ a good man at all, lass.”

She stumbled again, but he kept her from falling. This time, she drew her left hand up his chest. “You
are.
Even if I do find you exasperating.”

“It goes both ways.” He kissed her forehead and tried to send her away. But she was feeling bolder right now, wanting another kiss like the one he’d given her earlier. Even if she was never going to marry any man, Cain Sinclair had the best kisses.

“Wait,” she said to him. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his. When he didn’t move, she demanded, “Aren’t you going to kiss me good-night?”

“You’re no’ wanting to start this. Believe me when I tell you that it’s no’ a good idea.” He was like a mountain, fierce and forbidding as he stared down at her. A man of ice, who would not surrender another soul-stealing kiss.

Margaret thought about the way he’d held her close while they were riding north. His strong arms had never let her fall, and she’d been well aware of how badly he wanted her.

She rested her palms against his chest, and beneath his shirt, she felt the harsh beating of his heart. His eyes burned into hers, and she swallowed hard. “Sometimes I wish I could marry you.”

Without another word, Cain deposited her in the hay and climbed the ladder up to the loft.

Cain slept like hell. His back itched, the barn was cold at night, and he couldn’t stop thinking of Margaret. The woman couldn’t handle spirits, and the raspberry wine had addled her mind. She’d not been herself at all.