The Duke’s Covert Mission

by Julie Miller

  Chapter Five

  “Put me down.”

  It took Ellie a few minutes to regain her strength, her senses and her will to survive. Now all three had returned in full force and she was painstakingly aware of how hopeless her attempt to run away had been in the first place.

  The tight band of Cade’s arms surrounded her back and thighs and pinned her against his chest, trapping her as surely as that steel chain in the basement had. She had no idea how far she’d run when she reached the fisherman’s dock and a chance at freedom. Maybe a mile, not more than two. But the trip back to her prison, shackled against Cade’s hard body, seemed to take forever.

  Just as he’d subdued her in the basement when she’d foolishly tried to use physical force against him, he’d run her down like a doe in the woods. Even with a head start, she’d been no match for his predatory skills. He’d tracked her, claimed her from the fisherman as if he’d staked his territory against a rival male. And now he carried her back to his lair with long, steady strides that showed no signs of tiring.

  In another time and place, the sensation of being swept off her weary feet into such strength would have been a fantasy come true. She could imagine Cade St. John sheltering the woman he loved with the fierce protective instincts of a knight from long ago. She could see him atop a coal-black charger, clothed in armor, with a long broadsword, instead of that steel gun strapped to his side.

  She’d grown light-headed from a lack of oxygen on her run. Her heart had threatened to beat right out of her chest. But she could think clearly now and tuck her storybook fantasies away inside her wishful heart.

  Only, now she had to combat a very different, very modern type of fantasy.

  She’d never been picked up by a man before, not since she was a little girl, not since her father had been the hero who’d saved her from skinned knees and broken bikes. Carried aloft in her father’s arms she’d found comfort.

  Riding in Cade’s arms made her feel something entirely different.

  Dizzy. Afraid. Warm. Alive.

  All the places Cade touched her, however impersonally, tingled with a strange, exciting heat. Her arms, her thighs—the left side of her body from breast to knee—all seemed to quiver with anticipation.

  Cade’s hard body was all planes and angles. He was a variety of sensual textures, from the sandpapery beard stubble that clung to his neck and jaw to the silky fringe of hair that kissed the nape of his neck. The man was all coiled energy and pantherlike grace. He was haunting indigo eyes that spoke a language all their own. He was tall and tough and impossibly broad.

  Too much man. Too close.

  A soldier of fortune. A law unto himself.

  And he had awakened her. Of all the eligible males in the world—true knights and simple, good men—he was the one to tempt her from her cocoon where daydreams had been enough to sustain her adventurous heart. Now that she’d left her safety net of anonymity behind her, she wanted to learn more about the differences between men and women firsthand.

  She wanted Cade St. John to teach her.

  Some dormant instinct that overrode logic and common sense told her he was a man who was more than what he appeared. A man who was better than circumstances allowed him to be.

  But Ellie had never been one to trust her instincts. As much as she’d longed for excitement and romance, she thrived on security. She was a creature of loyalty and duty, while Cade’s only loyalty seemed to be to his latest “job.”

  And though even his simplest touches and intense looks thrilled her with unknown desires, she had enough gumption to recognize that Cade knew more about women than she knew about herself. He would never need or want a thing from a nearsighted wallflower like her.

  She was nothing more than a means to an end. A property for him to ransom. And she wasn’t even the real bargaining chip he’d wanted in the first place.

  That sobering thought put her budding hormones on simmer and reminded her that Cade wasn’t a gallant knight rescuing the princess. His title aside, he was the enemy of her king. The enemy of her own resolve. She needed a knight to save herself—from him.

  Only there was no knight for her out here by the oaks and pines and water in the middle of who knew where.

  There had never been a knight for Ellie.

  She had to save herself.

  “I said put me down.” She felt his eyes snap in her direction, as if he was unsure whether the haughty clip in her voice stemmed from arrogance or panic.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Your leg—”

  She kicked out with her feet and wriggled out of his grasp, ignoring his protest. When she shoved at his chest, he let her drop, instead of stumbling over the top of her as she pulled him off balance. Ellie would have landed on her rump if Cade hadn’t gripped her elbow and steadied her as he easily righted himself.

  She jerked her arm from his grasp. She was too smart to try to run again, but she didn’t have to be so close to Cade that her mind got all muddied up in the curious sensations of her fanciful heart and traitorous body. She squared her shoulders and set out ahead of him. But when she put her weight on her right leg, a flash of pain shot through her calf. Ellie grit her teeth to stifle a groan and kept walking.

  “Ellie.” She ignored his pitying voice and took another tender step. “Enough.”

  He closed his hands around her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought the urge to lean into his strength and let him help her. But ultimately, practicality won out over pride, and she braced herself on his arm and lowered herself beside the trunk of a nearby tree.

  With her back resting against the bleached bark of the towering white oak, she breathed in deeply and willed the pain to subside. Cade followed her down, kneeling at her side. He untied the hem of her borrowed pants, wrapped his hands around her right ankle and squeezed. Then he ran his hands up her leg, pressing, searching, stirring up all kinds of curious sensations. She grew achingly aware that these were his clothes she wore. Achingly aware of the casual intimacy of his touch. His scent. His…

  Ellie batted his hands away. “I’m all right.”

  “No, you’re not.” He lifted her leg and gently bent it at the knee and ankle, testing each joint. “You couldn’t walk back at the lake, and now you’re favoring this leg. Let me check it.”

  He slipped his hand higher, and Ellie’s breath hissed through her teeth at the feel of his hand on her inner thigh. Cade looked up, judging her reaction to his probing touch. Locked in the darkness of that indigo gaze, Ellie couldn’t move. He squeezed once, and her thigh muscles clenched. The fever spread straight up to that tender spot between her legs.

  She swallowed hard, alarmed that she wasn’t protesting against his familiar touch. Instead, she pressed her lips together and wondered if it always felt this hot, this edgy, this quick when a man touched a woman. Maybe she was some sort of spinsterish freak who got off on his clinical, perfunctory contact because she had nothing else to compare it to.

  Oh, God, she felt like an idiot, drowning in a sea of confusing thoughts and sensations. Why couldn’t she think clearly? She’d always been so sensible. She’d always found a way to make a tricky situation bearable. But not with Cade. Not with this.

  Ellie salvaged what dignity she could by thrusting her chin out and pushing his forearm back to her knee. “It’s farther down.”

  Cade studied her for one intense moment, conveying a message she didn’t understand—shouldn’t understand—before looking away and freeing her from those magic eyes of his. He skimmed his hand along her leg, almost stroking her. Though there was a machinelike economy in his movements, the touches were gentle. And that truly confused her. How could a man so hard, so deadly, show her such inexplicable kindness? “You could just sling me over your shoulder and haul me back to the house. Why are you helping me?”

  “Because you need help. It’s okay to stand back and let somebody else be strong for a change.”

  Ellie puffed out a frustrated sigh. “Not you.
I don’t need you to take care of me or touch me or—Ow!”

  Every muscle in her body jumped when he pushed against the sore bundle of nerves in her calf.

  “That’s the spot, huh?” He reached beneath her leg and kneaded the muscle spasm. His touch was a new experience in torture as pain radiated from her calf.

  Tears stung her eyes and she grabbed his wrist. “Stop.”

  He easily overpowered the protective grasp of her hands. “I know it hurts. And I know you don’t want my help. But I’m giving it to you, anyway. Just try to relax.”

  Relax? With Cade the predator kneeling so close she could smell his spicy scent? With Cade the protector massaging her injured leg? With Cade the champion of her feverish fantasies touching her as if he had every right to? Each healing stroke was a mind-blowing mixture of soothing tenderness and jabbing pain. She clenched her teeth together and refused to cry out.

  His shoulder blocked his ministrations from view. Behind the relative safety of his back, she dared to study him more carefully, using the distraction to steer her thoughts away from the sharp ache in her leg.

  The soft knit of his shirt tugged and stretched over a sleek set of muscles each time he moved. As broad as he was through the shoulders, his rib cage tapered down to a narrow waist. Below his belt, his buttocks flared in a graceful arc. She traced the shape of man and muscle with her eyes, boldly following the powerful line downward until it was interrupted by a thin black notebook that protruded from his rear pocket.

  Ellie’s curiosity drew her deep into thought and away from her pain. Lenny had carried a little black notebook just like it. Was it the same one? The big man could have easily lost it when she’d knocked him to the ground and taken off. Maybe Cade had picked it up when he ran outside after her.

  But why stop to do a favor for a friend when their meal ticket—and incriminating witness—was running away? Had Cade stolen it? He was already a kidnapper and killer. Petty theft would mean nothing to him. But why?

  Ellie lifted her fingers, wondering in a moment of madness if she could pick Cade’s pocket and satisfy her curiosity.

  “You hanging in there?” He glanced over his shoulder and Ellie snatched her fingers away. She reached up and adjusted her glasses instead, leaving her hand there to hide herself from the probing question in Cade’s gaze.

  “I’m fine.”

  And then the knot suddenly released itself as if a trap had been sprung. Ellie’s breath came out on a sigh, and she sagged against the tree. Sexy men and curious notebooks were momentarily forgotten as that raw, grabbing pain in her calf finally vanished. “Thank you.”

  He did a double take, as if he hadn’t expected her thanks. He adjusted her pant leg and retied it at the ankle. “You’re welcome. It’ll be tender for a while, but you should be able to walk on it.”

  Cade rolled to his feet, then took her hand to help her stand. Ellie pulled the oversize shirt down over her hips and clutched at the hem. She breathed in deeply, gingerly testing her ability to support herself on her own two legs.

  But just as she began to walk, his wide chest blocked her way. Ellie stopped, changed directions, but he moved again, blocking her path.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, a vague apprehension putting her on alert. She pressed her spine against the tree, leaning as far away from him as possible before risking a glance up into his eyes. Big mistake. Once she met his downturned gaze she was trapped.

  He braced one hand on the tree above her head and leaned in. Ellie’s breath rushed out in a strangled gasp as he moved close enough for her to feel the heat from his body at the tips of her breasts and chin. He brushed a lock of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. When his hand lingered, she dropped her gaze to the front of his shirt, confounded by this mock show of tenderness.

  “Do you have any idea how much trouble you are, Ellie Standish?” His voice was a soft caress to her ear. She heard no threat. Instead, she detected a trace of that same laughter that had rumbled through his chest when she’d said she would never trust him.

  “You mean Princess Lucia.”

  “I mean Ellie Standish.” Had he drifted a centimeter closer, or was that her imagination? Or had she leaned toward him?

  Drat. If only she had two wits of experience with men, she could tell if this was flirting. Or a taunt. Or something she really needed to fear.

  She decided to interpret the question literally. At least she couldn’t make a fool of herself with an honest answer. She opened her eyes and talked to his chest, avoiding the dark snare of his eyes. “I’ve never caused anyone any trouble in my entire life.”

  “Never?”

  “No.” She looked up.

  Oh, God. He was there. Right there. Close enough to see in clear focus over the tops of her glasses. Close enough to feel his warm breath dance along her cheek. She swallowed hard and his gaze darted to the movement of her throat. She swallowed again, feeling those eyes like the brush of a fingertip.

  Then his gaze moved lower, to the erratic rise and fall of her breasts as she tried to quell her nerves. Like that first night when he’d wrestled her to the floor, the intensity of Cade’s gaze made her feel tingly and off-kilter. It made her want things that a woman in her position shouldn’t want.

  This was a new kind of torture, one that frightened her more than chains and knives and guns. One that got beneath her skin and attacked her where she was most vulnerable. She tried to fight back. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  His articulate stare grazed her lips before meeting her beseeching eyes. “What am I doing?”

  She answered in a strangled croak. “I don’t know.” In her fairy-tale books, the heroes and the villains were always clear. But Cade St. John remained a mystery. He’d kidnapped her. He’d brought her her glasses and decent clothes. He tended to her injury but refused to let her go free. He sheltered her one minute, threatened her the next. And now? “I think you’re playing some kind of game with me. I’m sorry, but I don’t know the rules.”

  Cade trailed a finger across her cheek and tapped the end of her nose. His bottom lip arced in a wry smile and he pulled away. “No, I don’t suppose a woman like you would.”

  A woman like her? Shy? Plain? Afraid to take a risk because failure might mean disappointing the people who depended on her?

  Ellie was free to move, but she still clung to the tree for support. She dug her fingers into the rough bark behind her and watched him walk away. There was purpose in his stride. What had been his purpose a moment ago? What would a more experienced woman understand that she hadn’t been able to?

  Something stirred in the untapped resource of feminine intuition inside her. She couldn’t quite decipher the message. “If I was a real princess, would you have kissed me just now?”

  That stopped him. His shoulders rose and fell with a massive sigh before he turned back to face her. He still wore that irksome smile. “Did you want me to kiss you?”

  “I…” What had she wanted? Shamed by her bold curiosity, Ellie seized on the anger it caused and gathered strength to push herself from the tree. She adjusted her glasses and found the nerve to look him in the eye. “No. Of course not.”

  She tipped her chin to a regal angle and marched past him, berating herself for knowing so little about men. For being plain. For being foolish. For being so damn lonesome in her quiet little world that she had practically dared her enemy to kiss her.

  Cade grabbed her wrist as she walked past and jerked her to a halt. She swung around with her fist, but it deflected uselessly off his shoulder. “Let me—”

  Before she could utter a proper protest, he’d snatched her chin, angled her mouth beneath his and kissed her. Ellie screamed in her throat, but she only succeeded in making her ears ring. Her lips flattened against her teeth beneath the force of his mouth. Her twisting hips and pounding fist did no good. He simply backed her into the tree, trapping her between the equally solid trunks of man and white oak. Ellie gasped for air. Grasped a
t sanity.

  Marveled at the suddenly gentle fingers that spanned the width of her jaw. Her body relaxed its protest and the pressure on her mouth eased. He ran the tip of his tongue along the curve of her bottom lip in something of a silent apology. Ellie nearly smiled. The caress reminded her of the ticklish lick of a cat. A big, black panther cat.

  She heard the laughter in Cade’s throat as she made something very like a purring sound in response. A sudden heat flooded her face, but the callused tips of Cade’s fingers scudded across her cheeks and feathered into her hair, calming her, reassuring her. His fingers tunneled farther and cradled her skull, gently tipping her head back.

  Though his thighs still pressed against hers, stoking the heat that burned low in her belly, he was giving her the chance to voice her protest, an opportunity to slap his face.

  But she did none of those things. Her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself bathed in a fire of pure indigo.

  “There’s not much that stops me if I want something.” His husky voice grazed her ears like a caress.

  So kissing her meant what? That he wanted her? He continued to hold her gaze, never blinking, waiting for her to absorb his meaning.

  A hot thrill of expectation coiled inside her, making her catch her breath. For the barest fraction of an instant, Cade’s gaze dropped to the quick thrust of her breasts as she inhaled. As if he couldn’t help himself. He did want her.

  Ellie curled her fingers into the front of his shirt, eliciting a small gasp as she caught a hair on his chest. Drat! She just didn’t know how… “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He flattened one hand over hers, pressing her palm against his heat and corded strength, stilling her frantic clutch of withdrawal.

  He caught her with his bewitching eyes once more. They loomed large above her as he pressed his thumb to the seam of her lips. She opened them for him. Maybe Cade claimed her, maybe she surrendered.

  His beard had been rough on her mouth before, but now his touch was exquisitely gentle. He slipped his hands behind her shoulders, dragged his palms down her back, cupped the flare of her hips and pulled her away from the tree and into his heat. He taught her the intimate secrets of that sensitive skin just inside her lower lip, the tugging sensation she felt deep in her feminine core when he pulled the tip of her tongue between his lips. Cade instructed her mouth in just the right way to tremble with passion and ache with need. And she was his willing pupil.