Knights Divided. Suzanne Barclay
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them, they will tell the truth, too. They’ll tell Sir Thomas you weren’t aboard your ship that night.”
How could she know that? Jamie groaned inwardly. Damn. Most of his men had been with him for years; they’d lie for him till the bitter end. But all it would take is one mistake to bring this whole scheme down. “I have no time for this,” he snapped. “Look, I have vital business elsewhere. I’ll do anything you say, if you’ll let—”
“Will you confess?”
“To a crime I didn’t commit? Certainly not.”
“Why? If such a confession is worthless, why not admit—”
“I may be many things, mistress, but I am not a coldblooded murderer of women, and naught will get me to say so.”
“Then I guess you are stuck here.” She uncorked a flask and dabbed a vile-smelling potion on his wound. It burned like fire.
Jamie yelped and flinched away, setting his chains to rattling. “You will rue the day you did this,” he said through his clenched teeth. Though he’d left a trail of broken hearts behind him, he’d never consciously harmed a woman before. But he’d make an exception for this one.
“Did you say something similar to Celia?” she asked.
Jamie swore vilely, but took no pleasure in her shocked gasp. He wanted more. He wanted her to pay for ambushing him and endangering his plans. But most of all, for making him want her, then deceiving him. “I never harmed your sister. Nor any other woman. I like women, and they like me.”
She snorted in disgust. “I despise you.” Fire bloomed in her cheeks, transforming her face, making it glow from within. Untapped passion trapped in a nun’s icy reserve.
The impact of her unconscious appeal caught Jamie like a mailed fist to the gut. The desire had blazed between them from the first. He’d admitted as much to her, and she’d used it to entrap him. No one used him.
Jamie struck with the swiftness that made him an excellent swordsman. Chains rattling, he snagged her around the waist and dragged her across his body. The impact caused the air to whoosh from her lungs and sent pain jarring through his head. He was too angry to care. There was enough play in the chain for him to roll over, trapping her beneath him. He had a moment to savor her panicky expression before she opened her mouth to scream.
“Nay.” He sealed her mouth shut with his own. Her silent cry vibrated against his lips, sent a shudder through his body.
Triumph. He might be chained, but she was powerless in the grip of his superior strength. His to do with as he would. He took ruthless advantage of her weakness. Driven by endless hours of impotent rage and savage frustration, he seared her flesh with his, determined to lesson her.
She whimpered. The tiny sound, more felt than heard, slipped past his fury to touch on his worst fear. That one day, if he wasn’t careful, the dark side of his nature would break the leash of his iron will. Nay, he wouldn’t let it. Digging deep, he found the patience to gentle his hold on her and set his mouth to apologize. In that instant, everything changed. The kiss intended to punish took on a life of its own.
Her cry of distress became a soft sigh, her hands ceased to claw at his arms. Beneath the persuasive pressure of his mouth, hers turned pliant. He’d been right to judge her inexperienced, but her untutored responses sent a shaft of lust arrowing down to his groin. How-easy it would be to forget his anger and lose himself in her.
Lifting his head, he stared into her flushed face. Passion transformed her, heightened her beauty. Her lips were wet, swollen, her pupils dilated and dazed. A feeling of intense male satisfaction filled him. “Emma, unchain me.”
“Wh-what?” She blinked, passion fading, awareness returning. With a gasp of outrage, she began to thrash.
“Damn. Hold still…argh,” he cried when a blow caught him in the ribs. He loosened his grip, setting her free.
Emmeline scrambled from under him and huddled in the corner, struggling to gather her scattered wits. How could she have let him kiss her? She should have screamed the moment he’d grabbed her, instead she’d…she’d…
Nay. Don’t think of it. Nearly sobbing with reaction, she scrubbed a hand across her lips, but the taste of him lingered. She had to get away, had to wash the feel of him from her skin. Legs trembling, she got to her feet, walked to the door and called for Toby to let her out. The moment the door opened, she brushed past her startled servant and bolted for the stairs. “See he’s locked in,” she called in a voice she didn’t recognize.
As the door clanked shut again, Jamie sighed and lowered his head to the floor. Damn. How had he lost control of the situation? He had her in his grasp. He could have put his hands around her slender throat and threatened to strangle her if she didn’t release him. Instead, he’d…
He’d kissed her and lost himself totally.
Damn. That hadn’t happened to him…ever. He’d been with more women than he could count, most of them more beautiful than Mistress Emmeline Spencer, and kept his wits intact. Why her? Because she was different. He’d sensed it the moment they met, and every exchange between them since had strengthened the notion.
Forcing his eyes open, he tried to plan his next move. His eyes caught the dull glint of metal on the floor. The knife. In her haste to leave, Emmeline had dropped it. Mayhap he hadn’t blundered so badly after all, Jamie thought as he retrieved the weapon. Not large enough to kill, but just the right size to pick the locks on his shackles.
Jamie levered himself into a sitting position and was immediately swamped by dizziness. As he sagged against the wall the press of cold stone against his bare back had the rousing effect of a lash. He didn’t have much time. Convincing Mistress Emmeline of his innocence was a lost cause. Nor could he count on the slim hope of rescue. Harry would worry when he didn’t arrive as expected at the Hound and Stag and send word to the ship. But they’d never think to look for him so far from London.
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