by Paula Quinn
He wasn’t in front of her door this morning. Good thing too because if he spilled into her room again, she would have locked the door and kept him in there.
“How long do you think he’ll stay with you?”
Emma stopped and tilted her chin in Bess’s direction. “None of us knows the future, Bess.”
“You’re very innocent, are you not?” Bess moved closer to her and circled her like a cat. “It must be pleasant to be a fool enough to ignore everything he is and still blindly trust him.”
“You seem to have been at it longer than I have, Bess. Why don’t you tell me?”
She could feel Bess’s anger infusing the air. She stepped away from the stairs. “Why can’t you just be happy with Sebastian? I understand from Mary and the others that he’s quite striking and he seems to—”
“Leave Sebastian out of this!” She grew angry immediately and then sneered again. “He is going to take care of everything,” Bess told her, ignoring Gascon’s low growl. “Malcolm promised to take me away but then he fell for you. I’m not a fool like you, Emma. I know he won’t keep his word. But Sebastian will. He’s leaving soon and he’s taking me with him. He won’t drop me at the next brothel. He’ll keep me with him and…”
“That’s wonderful, Bess. I hope you’re both happy together. If you’ll excuse me.”
Without waiting for Bess’s reply, Emma clasped Gascon’s fur and turned for the stairs. She turned around and glared in Bess’s direction one last time, just to let her know that if Bess had any intention of pushing her down, Emma was ready and would retaliate. She was blind, but she was no mouse.
“Come, Gascon.” When she reached the bottom landing, she gave the air a slight sniff and then smiled.
“How long have you been there, Malcolm—and you too, Sebastian?”
“Long enough.” Malcolm pushed off the old wooden banister and moved closer to her.
“We heard everything,” Sebastian told her. “Don’t spare it another thought. I’ll take care of things with Bess.”
“M’ cousin Kyle wouldna’ like yer keen senses of hearin’ and smellin’,” Malcolm told her. “He likes sneakin’ up on folks.”
“Isn’t he the one who sails the seas with your sister, Caitrina, and her husband, the pirate?” she asked, curling her arm around his elbow.
“Your cousin is a pirate?” Distracted by the topic, Sebastian forgot about Bess and hurried after Malcolm.
“Aye, he has become a pirate, along with m’ sister.”
Sebastian sounded rather dumbfounded for the first time since Emma met him.
“With a ship?”
Malcolm smiled. “Aye, pirates live on them.”
“I know. I’ve always wanted… Why didn’t you tell me? What kind of ship do they sail? Schooner, sloop?”
“Brig,” Malcolm told him, and then laughed.
Emma guessed Sebastian had a pleasant reaction to that bit of news. She was glad. He seemed so sullen since yesterday.
“A brig. Hell, I’d like to see it.”
“Mayhap, I can arrange it next time Captain Kidd drops anchor in Scotland. I’ll check with Cailean but I believe they’ll be returnin’ from the West Indies next month. If ye’re free, come to Skye. Leave a message with the ferryman in Kylerhea and he’ll get the message to me. I’ll come get ye.”
“Tell me where to find you and I’ll save you the journey.”
“Nae,” Malcolm told him, growing only slightly more serious. “Ye’ll either be shot with arrows or cannons before ye reach me. If no’ that than the landscape will kill ye.”
“How will I fare against the landscape?” Emma asked with a hint of worry in her voice.
“I’ll be with ye, lass. Ye’ll do fine.” Malcolm closed his arm around her, filling her senses with sheer, rock-hard strength, the off-timing of his breath when he touched her, and the subtle fragrance of the sea. Was he at the coast while she slept? She wanted to go there, to be alone with him.
“Do you think this Captain Kidd would let me sail with him?” Sebastian asked, pulling her attention back to him.
“I’ll do m’ best to get ye aboard,” Malcolm promised. Then, perhaps sensing her eagerness to be alone with him, he clapped Sebastian on the back. “We’ll talk more aboot it later, aye?”
They parted ways with Emma thinking how fortunate she was to be leaving the brothel, even if it meant leaving Harry.
“Should we find Harry first?” she asked on their way toward the front door.
“Nae,” he whispered close to her ear. “He isn’t goin’ anywhere. Let’s go swimmin’.”
It was easy to forget her brother, the brothel, or anything else when she was in Malcolm’s arms. And in the sea. Was this real? Could she have truly won the heart of this man, whom her mother would have agreed was doing his best to step from the pages of her books? Not a knight, but a treacherous rogue, whom no heart should trust. But that wasn’t Malcolm Grant anymore.
She didn’t care if she was a fool like Bess said. She had tried, but how could she not fall in love with a man who brought the light back to her life?
The water was cold and a bit choppy but he kept her warm, pressed close to his body. They laughed together in the waves while Gascon barked at them from the shore.
“What’s Camlochlin like?” she asked against his neck, then gave him gentle kisses where her breath lingered.
She felt him getting harder, despite the cold. It made her blood burn. She wanted him inside her, the ultimate, most intimate touch. Buoyant, she pressed in close and rubbed her body against him like a lusty siren. She gasped a tight little gasp when his hands closed tight around her buttocks.
“’Tis beautiful.” His heart raced against her and his pitch was low, almost pained. It made her smile that she could do this to him. He continued, kissing her wet lips, taking her mouth like a hungry lion until he broke free and burned a path of kisses down her throat. “The kind of beauty that makes a man forget his own existence…” He lifted her easily in the waves and suckled at each of her breasts poised above him like delectable berries offered for his pleasure. “… and makes him want to become a part of what he sees instead.” He pulled her legs around his waist and lowered her onto his erection.
The water took away her slickness so it took a bit of coaxing to let him inside. Like gyrating on his tip, and hearing him swear in his deep, guttural voice. His hands on her thrilled her and when he covered her buttocks and began to guide her movements, she received him, his full length making her writhe with ecstasy in his embrace. The more he retreated and entered again, the slicker she became. But there was still enough resistance to drive her mad with desire. She slowed to keep from erupting and keeping him from doing to the same.
It made him more wild for her. When he squeezed her rump, she squeezed him back, taking every inch, dragging groans from his tight, trembling body. She took her pleasure in his big, hard, willing body and pulled every drop of passion from them both.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I’ll never give my blessing to this,” Harry promised Malcolm, then turned to glare at Emma. “How could you let this rake convince you to go with him?”
“He has changed, Harry!” Emma argued with him. This was her last chance to speak to him. Malcolm wanted to leave tonight. She didn’t want to leave the brother she’d just found knowing he hated her now. “Harry, I—”
“I don’t want to hear anything else!” He cut her off, but she wouldn’t have it.
“You will hear me, Harry!” she shouted back. He paused for a moment, but that was all she needed. “You left me when I was ten years old; our parents had just died and I was losing my sight! You left me and didn’t come back! I forgave you, Harry. All these years, I forgave you. I also survived just fine on my own without you. After they murdered Clementine I left France and came looking for you, but this isn’t the life for me, Harry. I thought I could pretend to make you happy that I was here, but I cannot. I want to go with Malcolm. I am goin
g. Please, don’t let there be bad blood between us.”
Her brother went to her and took her face in his hands. “Oh, Emmaline, don’t you understand? I cannot let you go? I need you.”
Poor Harry. She was grateful to Malcolm for staying quiet and letting her handle it.
“I do love you, brother, but I’m going with Malcolm.” When he finally gave in, Emma could feel his nod; she leaped into his arms and hugged him. She had it! She had his blessing to leave. It was a bittersweet moment for her.
“All I ask, Emmaline, is another day or two. Just stay with me another day or two, I beg you.”
She went to Malcolm and sensed his nod and smile as he caught her up in his arms.
When Harry asked her for a few moments alone with Malcolm, she happily agreed and ran off with Alison to pack.
She didn’t have much: a few gowns, mostly her medicines and jars. She wanted to bring it all. She was happy Alison was coming too. They were friends. Dear God, was this truly happening? Was she leaving Harry and the brothel? Was she really going to hop on a horse with a Highlander and let him bring her to his home in the mountains? She had to be mad, but she couldn’t stop smiling!
It didn’t take her long to finish packing. She left her room with Gascon in search of Malcolm and found him preparing to go find a replacement for Alison—Sebastian would now be responsible for finding a replacement for Bess. Malcolm would ride to The Thieving Prince at the southern tip of Hebburn and be back in a few hours. Cailean wanted to go with him, but Malcolm refused. He’d get back sooner if he was alone. Cailean agreed to stay at Fortune’s Smile and cook a feast.
Emma agreed to it all. She would have agreed with anything.
She stayed with Harry in the parlor. Cailean, Sebastian, and the girls joined them for a bit. Bess sat with them but remained silent and close to Sebastian.
“Ye know, Harry,” Cailean said, “ye’re always welcome to come to Camlochlin. We’ll find a place fer ye there.”
“You think I’d be able to find your home when armies have failed?”
Emma thought of Camlochlin, a sanctuary cloaked in obscurity, strewn across the clouds. A home for many, a life source for a few. How would her mind’s eye see it? Beautiful, but cold? Or brutally isolated at the edge of the world where even armies cannot find you, and warm?
Like Malcolm had done earlier, Cailean told him how to reach Skye and about leaving a message for the MacGregors with the ferryman in Kylerhea.
“We’ll come get ye,” Cailean promised him, making her love Malcolm’s younger brother all the more.
“You’ll come when you’re ready, Harry.” Emma reached for her brother’s hand. “We don’t have to remain apart. We can catch up on all the years we’ve missed together. You’ll come.”
“Perhaps,” he said, smiling a bit stiffly. “I will, when I’m—”
Gascon got up and went to the front door, growling on the way. Emma sat up straighter in her chair at the sound of horses in the front of the brothel. Sebastian leaped from his chair and ran to the window. When he turned back to Emma and the rest, his voice was almost unrecognizable.
“Cailean! If you want to live, hide!” Sebastian shouted.
Cailean stood up. “What’s going on?”
“Hide now and don’t show yourself!” Sebastian warned urgently. “Oliver Winther is here, about to enter this place. With him is his commander John Burroughs, who saw you the night Andrew was killed! Go!”
Cailean stood there for a moment, stunned and confused. “How d’ye know all this?”
Emma listened, heart pounding, to Alison begging him to go and his refusal unless she and Emma came with him.
“No.” Sebastian rushed toward them. “He knows Emma’s here. He’ll demand to see her and kill anyone who stands in his way.”
“Sebastian!” Emma exclaimed. “What’s going on and how do you know the baron and his commander? And why the hell does he want me?”
“Emma, please trust me,” Sebastian told her. “Cailean,” he said, turning back to him, “if you don’t run, you’ll die the instant John identifies you. Please. Go. I will explain everything later.”
Emma heard Cailean curse as he pulled Alison away. “I’ll be close by, Emma,” he promised, and then was gone.
She was afraid, but she turned to Sebastian and squared her shoulders. “How do you know what the Baron of Newcastle knows?”
“He’s my brother.”
Emma’s heart resonated in her breast. She took a step back and almost stepped on Gascon’s paw. “You’re a Winther?”
“Emma…” he said, but nothing else. What more could he possibly say?
“You lied to me,” she accused very softly. Too softly for most to hear.
Sebastian heard her. “I’m sorry.”
How could he do this? How could he bring his brother here? Her throat stung and her eyes burned. She’d liked Sebastian. She’d credited him with being raw and genuine.
“Why does he know about me?” she demanded.
“Be meek, Emma,” he warned hastily. “He doesn’t like it. Weep and he will not give you attention.”
Weep. Over him? Was he mad? She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but when she heard the voice that chilled her blood coming from the opened doorway, she reconsidered.
“Well.” He jeered. “Isn’t this cozy?”
If Sebastian Fletcher was really Sebastian Winther, then he likely knew what he was talking about. If she had to be meek to live through this visit, she would be. She knew how to stay in the shadow even in plain sight.
Gascon’s low growl caught the baron’s attention.
“Kill that mongrel,” he ordered, sweeping inside the brothel like a plague. More men followed him in.
All fear and willingness to submit vanished, leaving Emma with rage. Did he just order someone to kill Gascon? She stepped in front of her dog, blocking him from another man who’d taken the order. “Touch him,” she warned through clenched teeth, “and I’ll feed your blood with my foulest poison. You’ll be dead before the night is over and your death will be most unpleasant.”
“Step away from her, John,” the man, whom she assumed was Oliver Winther, drawled in a deep, dangerous tone and moved closer to her. “It’s clear she terrifies you. Slightly understandable since she poisoned you once already, proving she’s capable.”
She’d poisoned him before. Ah, oui, John, one of her kidnappers. It seemed he’d escaped Malcolm with his life that night.
Gascon whined and sat on his haunches, eager to do more but obedient to Emma’s touch.
“Oliver Winther, my dear.” He took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips for a kiss. “Baron of—”
“I know who you are. Stay away from my dog.”
She knew he bent in front of her to look into her eyes by the way his breath now touched her face. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant but sweet, with a hint of mint from a leaf he likely had been chewing sometime earlier.
“And if I don’t stay away from your dog?”
She could hear the indulgence in his voice. He was mocking her. She should be afraid but she was too busy wanting to scratch out his eyes.
“Do you think I cannot inflict harm on you, my lord?” she asked him in her most innocent voice.
“What harm could a delightful wisp of a woman inflict on me?”
And the rumors about his arrogance were true.
“I could have laced my knuckles with a berry taken from the Nightshade plant. Are you familiar with it?” she asked him. “’Tis poisonous. Or perhaps I prefer arsenic. ’Tis used to treat syphilis and some other conditions, but I know a perfect mixture that will eat away at a pair of lips quicker than fire melts butter.”
He remained quiet for so long, she began to grow fearful again. What if her boldness got her killed, or worse, got Gascon or Harry killed? He seemed to be waiting for a reaction to any kind of poison. When it didn’t come, he laughed, and quite loudly too. It was a merciless sound but it brought M
ary rushing to his side next.
“May the Lord have mercy on me here and now,” Mary fawned, reaching the baron’s side. She sounded breathless and mystified. “What brought you in here, honey? You look like you fell from a bolt of lightning.”
“I didn’t fall, my dear,” the arrogant baron replied. “I jumped and captured the bolt and keep it here.”
“Oh my!” Mary giggled and Emma rolled her eyes.
“Miss Grey,” the baron called out, catching her disgust. “You’re a fire cat all neatly stacked in that fine, lithe body.”
“Oliver,” Sebastian interrupted. “I wish to have a word with you.”
The baron let go of Mary and looked at his brother. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“If it’s about her, no.”
Emma’s heart thumped hard in her chest, but she managed not to sound too anxious when she spoke. “What do you want with me?”
“Everything,” the baron told her. “I want everything, beginning with you.”
“Oliver,” Sebastian warned in a low, threatening voice. “Leave her out of this.”
Emma listened to him. He didn’t sound like the Sebastian she knew and liked. He sounded detached and void of anything but anger toward the man he faced. She remembered his warning to her about being meek and weepy. The baron didn’t like it.
“You care for her, is that it, Bastian? That’s why you didn’t bring her to me.”
“Am I hearing this right?” The female equivalent of the baron’s frigid indifference sounded in Emma’s ears.
Bess.
“Tell him you don’t care for her,” she told her favored lover.
“Bastian, who is this whore, and why does she tell you what to say to me?”
Bess stepped forward despite Sebastian’s low spoken warning to return to him. “My lord.” She ran her hand down his arm and practically purred against him. “I’ve been a valuable help to your brother.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and I can be an even bigger help to you.”
They both laughed and Emma angled her head toward Sebastian. It had to be difficult for him to watch Bess flirt with his own brother.
