Danger's Kiss

by Glynnis Campbell

  The pain triggered Desirée’s street-fighting instincts, and on impulse, she swept her bound legs violently sideways, catching the front of Philomena’s shins.

  Desirée lost a few strands of hair as the woman careened, grasping for purchase, but it was well worth the price to see her stumble and hit the planks on one knee.

  Of course, Desirée’s triumph was short-lived. The fall only agitated Philomena all the more. As she struggled to her feet, rage turned her fair skin ruddy, and a lock of auburn hair fell like the tail of a dead rat over one vexed eye.

  Desirée bent her knees up under her chin, like a crossbow primed to fire. She might be engaged in an uneven fight, but she meant to leave bruises of her own.

  Suddenly, a slice of blinding light fell between them, and both pairs of eyes were drawn to the door. It had creaked open, and lurking in the doorway, as unexpected as snow in summer, was Nicholas’s cat.

  Desirée frowned. What was he doing here? Had Philomena’s men abducted him, as well? Or, she thought with a thrill of hope, did Snowflake’s appearance mean Nicholas had somehow tracked her to this mill?

  Philomena suddenly screamed in violent outrage, startling Desirée. With a determined swish of her scarlet skirts, she marched toward the door, intent on doing the cat some harm.

  “Nay!” Desirée cried. “Don’t hurt him!”

  Her words stopped Philomena in her tracks a mere yard from Snowflake, who had unwisely held his ground.

  Philomena swung her head around, narrowing her eyes at Desirée. “You know this beast?”

  Desirée hesitated.

  If Philomena didn’t recognize Snowflake, then she hadn’t ordered the cat’s abduction. But Snowflake hadn’t brought Nicholas, either, for the lawman would have instantly burst in the door at the sound of a woman’s scream. Nay, Snowflake must have followed on his own.

  “Do you?” Philomena hissed, rearing back her foot, preparing to kick the hapless cat.

  “Nay! Aye!” Faith, she couldn’t let the woman hurt Snowflake.

  “Well, which is it?”

  “Aye, I know him. But there’s no need to hurt him. He’s only a harmless...”

  Philomena sneezed all at once. Normally such a loud sound would send the skittish cat fleeing, but for once the stubborn creature lingered in the doorway.

  “Shoo!” Desirée shouted, to no avail. “Go away, Snowflake! Go! Shoo!”

  Philomena snatched a flour sack from a hook on the wall and approached the cat furtively. “Come along, Snowflake.” She sniffled. “Climb into this nice sack,” she said with false sweetness, “and I’ll drown you in the well.”

  “Nay!”

  Desirée’s cry distracted the cat for only an instant, but it was long enough for Philomena to throw the sack over him, effectively trapping him within.

  Philomena sneezed again but managed to hold the sack down while the cat snarled and flailed inside.

  Wise or not, Desirée could no longer bottle her temper. “Leave him alone, you bloody witch!”

  Philomena only laughed and scooped up the sack, holding her thrashing prize up in triumph. “Maybe now you remember where the key is.”

  Desirée trembled with rage and frustration, fatigue and thirst. She couldn’t let the woman hurt Snowflake. Revenge wasn’t worth it. The promise of riches wasn’t worth it. Even clearing Hubert’s soul of murder wasn’t worth seeing the expression on Nicholas’s face when he learned his precious cat had been harmed.

  Her shoulders sank, and she nodded.

  Philomena smirked. “I thought so.” She twirled the sack to seal it, making Snowflake mew piteously, then plopped it roughly onto the floor and made a knot in the top.

  “If you touch one whisker on that cat,” Desirée bit out, “I’ll bury the key where you’ll never find it.”

  “Believe me,” Philomena said, picking up the sack and holding it at arm’s length, “I have no desire to touch the wretched beast.”

  She sneezed again, then shuddered, hanging the knotted sack back on its hook. Her eyes were swelling rapidly, turning red, and Desirée realized she must be one of those people who couldn’t abide cats. She suddenly wished Snowflake had come with all his feline brethren to torment the lady.

  Philomena held out her palm. “Now hand over the key.”

  Desirée swallowed. “I don’t have it.”

  “What!” Philomena doubled her palm into a fist.

  Desirée flinched, assuring her quickly, “But I can get it. Let me go. Give me till tomorrow, and I’ll bring it to you.”

  Desirée could almost see steam huffing from the lady’s ears as she clenched and unclenched her fist. “Let you go? Are you addled?”

  “’Tis the only way. ‘Tis hidden in the shire-reeve’s cottage.”

  “I’ll send someone else to fetch it.”

  Desirée grimaced, remembering how clumsy Philomena’s servants were. “’Tis a task requiring stealth, not force.”

  Displeasure curled Philomena’s lip as she mulled over Desirée’s words, but she knew Desirée was right. No one forced the formidable Nicholas Grimshaw to do anything. He’d never allow a stranger to ransack his home.

  She narrowed her eyes and bit out a warning. “Heed me well, wench. You’ll slip into the house, get the key, and return it to me at Torteval. Do you understand? No trickery. Otherwise, I shall be delighted to kill your cat.”

  As if in answer, Snowflake yowled pitifully from inside his cloth prison. With a peeved growl, Philomena hoisted the half-full bucket at her feet and doused the poor, bagged, scrambling cat with the rest of the water.

  Desirée wanted nothing more than to lunge at the barbarous wench and tear her eyes out.

  Philomena gave her a nasty sneer. “And remember, your Nicholas Grimshaw may like to tussle with the likes of you between the sheets, but he knows well who pays his wage. If you breathe a word of any of this to him, I’ll see that he’s stripped of his position and reduced to carting dung for a living.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Desirée decided that while Lady Philomena might be soulless, she wasn’t stupid. After seeing that Desirée was fed and cleaned up, she had her gagged and blindfolded for the trek home, so she wouldn’t know the whereabouts of the ruined mill and her hostage pet. She’d directed the men to drop Desirée at the outskirts of Canterbury so they’d not be spotted. And she’d ordered Desirée to come alone on the morrow to Torteval, where they would arrange the exchange.

  The journey to town had taken a long while, and Desirée suspected the men had circled the cart over the same ground again and again to confuse her. By the time they released her at the edge of the wood, it was late afternoon.

  The spires of Canterbury Cathedral, rising high above the trees, helped her get her bearings as she trudged toward the shire-reeve’s cottage, all the while wondering what tale she’d have to invent to explain her absence.

  She couldn’t let Nicholas get entangled in this dangerous web, particularly when his livelihood was at stake. It was her own mess to clean up. If she’d listened to him instead of stubbornly insisting on clearing Hubert’s name, none of this would have happened. Lady Philomena would never have known she was tied to the man they’d hanged for the murder, would never have suspected Desirée had her precious key, would never have abducted her and held Nicholas’s poor cat hostage.

  Now, for his sake, Desirée would set aside her need for justice, surrender what belonged to the woman, and break her vow to exonerate Hubert Kabayn.

  If she could carry off this one final deception, Nicholas need never know the peril she’d brought to his house. She’d never endanger him again, never give him cause to send her away.

  She steeled herself as she latched the garden gate behind her and headed up the walkway.

  She was prepared for his anger.

  She was prepared for an icy welcome.

  But nothing could prepare her for what she saw when she nudged open the cottage door.

  By the single sputtering candle
upon the hearth, she could make out the silhouette of Nicholas, lying asleep on her pallet beside his toppled flagon, curled up like a babe, his arms wrapped possessively around her cloak.

  Her heart melted at once. Her eyes grew wet with unshed tears. And instantly she knew she was doing the right thing.

  The lonely lawman needed her. And he needed his cat. And she’d make sure he got both before the sun set on the morrow, no matter what distractions or trickery she had to employ to keep him out of harm’s way till then.

  Bracing herself for the painful deceit ahead, she shut the door with more force than was necessary, fluttering the candle flame and waking Nicholas. Half waking him. As he struggled up on his elbows and swung his head toward her, his eyes drooped in drunken oblivion.

  “Y’came home,” he sighed in pleased surprise.

  “Did I?” she snapped, feigning anger, striking the flint hung on the wall to try to light another candle. “Or have I stumbled into an alehouse?”

  He was oblivious to her ire. His features relaxed with sheer relief. “Y’came back. Y’ robbed me. But y’came back t’me.”

  She frowned, and her fingers trembled on the flint, finally getting a spark to catch the wick. “That damned gaming box wasn’t worth as much as I thought.”

  He seemed not to hear her. His face broke out in a thankful grin as he slurred, “Ah, God, Des’ree, y’came back.” A tear slipped from his eye, and he wiped it away with the heel of his hand. “I feared y’d lef’ me. I feared y’d lef’ me f’rev’r.”

  At his gushing confession and the pure gratitude in his eyes, her heart careened dangerously. She felt a lump forming in her throat. Sweet saints, Nicholas didn’t even care about his gaming box. All he cared about was her.

  She swallowed back the knot of emotion before it could choke her, and then crouched beside him to help him sit up. “Left you?” she scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

  “I thought... I thought...” One corner of his mouth rose in a sheepish smile as he swayed against her. “I thought y’were gone f’r good.”

  Lord, the sorrow in his eyes brought tears to her own, but she sniffed them back. “Pah! You won’t get rid of me that easily,” she said, wrapping his arm about her shoulder to help him to his feet. “Stand up now. We’ve got to get you into bed.”

  It was no easy feat getting a drunken man twice her size into a pallet. He leaned heavily upon her, shuffling along, tripping over his own feet.

  Halfway there, he stopped abruptly with a frown. “Did y’take Azr’l?”

  She stiffened. “Nay.”

  “He’s gone.”

  Guilt burdened her words. “He’s probably off prowling somewhere for a ladylove. I’m sure he’ll come back.”

  He grunted and took two more steps, then halted again, blinking at her. “Y’ve been gone two days.”

  “Mm.”

  He nodded, apparently satisfied with his calculations, but after a few more steps, halted again. “Where’d y’go?”

  “Nowhere.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, his perception just keen enough to take note of her bedraggled condition. “What happened t’you?”

  “Come on, Nicholas,” she urged. “Just a few more steps, and you can sleep in your nice, soft—“

  He jerked away from her and nearly toppled over. “Did someone try t’hurt you?”

  She gulped. “Don’t be silly. Who would try to hurt me?”

  “Anyone. Everyone.” A cloud of melancholy fell over his face. “They all hate Nich’las Gr’mshaw.”

  His mind was straying, but that was to her advantage. She sidled up to him again, grabbing the lit candle as she passed and guiding him toward the bed. “I don’t hate Nicholas Grimshaw.”

  “Y’don’t, d’you?” He gave her a sloppy smile. “Y’r the only one, Des’ree.”

  His words caught at her heart, but she couldn’t let herself be manipulated by the ravings of a drunk man. She managed to maneuver him next to the pallet and found a perch for the candle. He fell back onto the bed, and for a moment, as she tugged off his boots, she thought he’d passed out again.

  Then he mumbled something. It sounded foreign.

  “What?” she asked, leaning closer.

  “Carpe. Diem.”

  “What’s that?”

  For answer, he reached for her, enclosing her in his arms and pulling her gracelessly down on top of him. A hopeless sigh escaped her. Instinct told her to squirm her way loose, but she was too weary to fight him. Indeed, after her harrowing ordeal, it was rather pleasant being held against his massive chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart, feeling his protective arms enveloping her.

  “Seize th’day,” he murmured against her hair.

  She had no idea what he was talking about. It was likely he didn’t, either. But the longer he held her, the more comfortable she grew in his embrace. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lie atop him, snuggling into the crook of his shoulder, draping her arms around his neck.

  There was really no point in getting up just now. Soon, she knew, he’d drift off to sleep, and then she could tuck him under the coverlet and stretch out on her pallet by the hearth. He’d likely not even remember how he’d made it to his bed.

  But though he was definitely in his cups, he seemed disinclined to fall asleep anytime soon. Indeed, by the obvious hardening against her belly, at least part of him seemed quite alert.

  “Stay,” he breathed.

  She’d thought herself too shaken and exhausted by the adventures of the past two days to do more than collapse into slumber. But she was wrong. His was the voice of lust, murmuring an incantation in her ear that magically dissolved her fatigue, leaving every nerve in her body curiously awake.

  Stay? Perhaps she would. She shifted her hips, unknowingly rousing him. He emitted a throaty growl as her abdomen pressed against his erection. The bestial sound sent a hot shiver up her spine. The second time she brushed him with her belly, it was intentional.

  With a chiding grunt, he lowered his hands until they clutched her buttocks, and he hauled her up hard against him. She gasped as her loins responded to the direct contact.

  He gave a low chuckle, and then lifted his head to capture her lips with his own.

  His breath was heavy with ale, but it wasn’t an unpleasant taste. His lips were warm, yielding and demanding all at once. He feasted languorously upon her, licking and nipping and making delicious sounds, as if he couldn’t eat his fill.

  Her hands drifted of their own will, rambling across his shoulders, up his corded neck, cupping his bristled jaw as she savored his playful, intoxicating kisses.

  He laughed and squeezed her against him again, and she moaned at the sensation.

  Suddenly her clothing felt too cumbersome. She longed to tear it away, to feel her skin against his.

  As if he divined her thoughts, his hands stole up the back of her kirtle, loosening the laces. Never breaking from the kiss, he dragged the shoulders of the gown slowly down until her breasts eased free.

  With a chuckle of victory, he released her mouth. Reaching under her arms, he lifted her up until her breasts were suspended above his face.

  She held her breath as he gazed up at her, his wicked intentions clear in his sultry eyes.

  With a gentleness she didn’t expect, he raised his head to lap at her nipple. She bit her lip as it stiffened to a sensitive peak.

  “Mmm.” With a smile of approval, he moved his head to sample her other breast with a tender brush of his tongue, as well.

  She sucked a hard breath between her teeth. Her loins felt afire, and her flesh burned with longing. And shock. And pleasure. All at once.

  “S’sweet.” His breath across her wet nipples made her shiver. But he remedied that at once, capturing her breast fully in his open mouth, warming her flesh with his swirling tongue.

  Lord, it seemed he sucked the very will from her, leaving her dizzy. She sighed as pleasure flooded her veins, weakening her muscles and h
er resolve.

  When he ventured to her other breast, paying it equal devotion, her head fell forward in limp ecstasy. The warmth of his mouth surrounding her radiated outward, heating her whole body.

  When he released her, lowering her back to his chest, her sensual appetite had only been whetted. He might have been playing with her, taunting her flesh, teasing her desires. But for her, suddenly it was no game. Her lust was a voracious beast, intent on feeding.

  With a feminine snarl, she swooped down upon him, savaging his mouth with ravenous kisses. To her surprise, he began to answer her with the same desperate haste, knotting his fingers in her hair to angle her head for deeper penetration, while the fingers of his other hand pressed into the flesh of her hip.

  She scrabbled at the laces of his shirt, tearing them open, and then left a trail of kisses upon his exposed skin. With a triumphant chuckle, he threw his head back, allowing her access, and she bathed him thoroughly with her tongue.

  All the while, Nicholas was stealthily gathering the fabric of her skirts beneath his fingers, hiking them higher and higher. When his fingertip contacted the bare skin of her thigh, she gasped at his daring. He fondled the crease below her buttock, and she squirmed beneath his touch, unintentionally grinding against his loins.

  He sucked in a harsh breath, and she suddenly felt a surge of strength, knowing she could overpower him with the mere shift of her hips.

  She thrust toward him again, and he groaned, half in pain, half in pleasure. But she wanted more. Gathering her knees beneath her, she lifted off of him enough to untie his braies.

  “Oh, aye,” he sighed.

  Meanwhile, he used both of his hands, caressing the flesh of her buttocks, massaging them, spreading them gently to slip his fingers between, closer and closer to the center of her desire.

  He groaned as she freed his straining cock. For a wondrous moment, she held the vibrant staff, glorying at its velvety strength in the palm of her hand.

  At the same moment, he parted her nether lips with a delicate touch, stroking the flesh that burned for him. She jerked in response and tightened her grip on him, squeezing a drop of glistening dew from his eager staff.