Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) (10 page)

She was in over her head.

Sabine cursed herself silently for the twisting knot in her stomach. Was it simply from fear that her plan wouldn’t work, or was it from Colin’s devastating smile, his warm touch, and those damned piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her ruse?

Cool water lapped around her ankles, then her calves, then past her knees. She shouldn’t have insisted that Colin turn his back, for seeing her in a wet shift just might make him pliant enough to forget that she was his captive.

But mayhap instead she was becoming the vulnerable one. She’d already said far more than she’d intended. What else would she let slip if his gaze scorched over her—or worse, if she ended up in his arms again?

Lies normally came quickly and easily to her tongue from years of practice. For some reason, though, she’d blurted the truth to him on the loch’s shore. Hell, she’d nearly let Fabian’s name slip.

When the loch waters reached her waist, she bent her knees and sank to her chin, letting the cool water lap at her blazing flesh. Why had she told him the truth? Why had she let her guard down for even one heartbeat?

As she dunked her head under, she let the water cool her mind as well as her body. This would be her longest and most challenging assignment ever. Normally, her point of contact—it had always been Miles—would send her to her mark in the afternoon, and by midnight she’d have the man wooed, secreted away someplace private, and then lying unconscious as she took what she was sent for.

But getting this missive from Colin wouldn’t be so simple. Mayhap she’d told him the truth because with such an extended scheme, she could easily become tangled in her own lies. Aye, that sounded plausible.

Or mayhap she’d told him about her childhood and being taken under Fabian’s wing because she’d known somehow that Colin’s senses were sharper than her average mark’s were. He would have sensed instinctively if she’d lied, but since she’d been honest—if guarded—mayhap it would increase her credibility to have spoken so earnestly.

Sabine worked the little lump of soap Colin had given her in her good hand. By God, she couldn’t even be sure if she was telling
herself
the truth anymore.

Her hand trembled as she scrubbed the soap into her hair. A clean, piney scent rose from the lather.

A hot stab of recognition shot low through her belly. It was the earthy, masculine fragrance that clung to Colin. That scent had enveloped her whenever they rode pressed together atop his stallion.

A little shiver ran through her, despite the mild water and the warm evening air. Who was playing whom now? Did Colin know the effect his smile had on her, or his penetrating gaze, or the very nearness of his powerful body? Was he using himself as a weapon against her, as she was against him?

Sabine dragged in a ragged breath as she began lathering her body through her shift. Aye, she was playing a perilous game. Yet although she racked her mind for an alternate scheme to get her hands on the missive he carried, she could draw naught else forth.

She’d been hesitant, frightened of his dangerously alluring reaction to her seduction, she realized. She felt exposed by his searching gaze, his sensuous touch, but wasn’t that exactly what she wanted to produce in him?

Dunking herself once more to rinse away the soap, she steeled herself. She needed to be bolder, braver. No more shyness and silly girlish modesty. If a powerful, enthralling man like Colin was ever going to let his guard down, it would not be for a few batted lashes and confessions about her childhood. Nay, it would require something far more daring.

“Colin?” Without even trying, her voice came out low and breathy.

“Aye?” His broad back was turned to her, his tawny hair looking like rippling gold silk in the slanting evening sun.

“I…I do not have aught to dry myself with. Would you fetch me my cloak, or mayhap one of those plaids in your saddlebags?”

The muscles in his back strained against his tunic as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Ye want me to leave ye alone out here? Do ye take me for a fool, lass?”

“I have naught but a wet shift to my name at the moment,” she called back. “Do you truly think I would flee now?”

Colin’s shoulders stiffened, but at last he sighed. “Verra well, but I’m taking yer dress with me.”

He backed slowly to the loch’s edge and picked up her discarded dress. Muttering something under his breath, he stalked into the trees where his horse stood not far away.

Sabine forced herself to wade toward the shore on suddenly wobbly legs. Her shift clung to her skin, a soft breeze making her shudder as she emerged from the water.

This was the bold action required of her, she told herself firmly as another shiver that had naught to do with the balmy evening air rippled through her. She was doing this for her assignment—not for herself.

“Yer cloak was still damp from last night, so this plaid will have to—”

Colin plowed his way through the underbrush, the blue and green wool held in his hand. As his eyes locked on her, the words died abruptly on his lips.

Sabine took the last few steps onto the shore, her shift tangling and clinging around her ankles as she gingerly found her footing on the rocks.

“
Christ
.” His hiss was sharp as his gaze scorched her. He looked suddenly like the wild lion she’d first thought him.

She glanced down at herself to see what his gaze so fiercely consumed.

Sabine couldn’t suppress a gasp at what met her eyes. She might as well have been wearing naught at all, for the wet shift blended seamlessly with her pale skin. Her rosy nipples stood out clearly, puckered from the cool water. The dark triangle of hair between her legs was also plainly visible. Every inch of her was on display.

She forced her feet to remain rooted and her hands to stay at her sides, even though her left shoulder ached a bit from hanging unsupported. Lifting her chin, she met his searing gaze with smooth features.

“What are ye doing, lass?” Colin rasped. He stalked a pace closer, his chest rising and falling starkly with his ragged breathing.

“I must get out of the water if I am to dry myself, mustn’t I?” Sabine surprised herself at how calm her own voice sounded. She could only hope that he didn’t notice her knees beginning to tremble.

Like lightning, he closed the distance between them. “Nay, dinnae toy with me. What game are ye playing?” he demanded.

She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, which burned with blue flames. A little alarm bell rang distantly in a corner of her mind. Aye, he looked like a hungry predator—and she was using her flesh as the bait.

Willing herself not to cower, not to throw her arms across her body and scurry for cover like a scared little girl, Sabine held her ground, chin raised.

“Ye dinnae ken what ye are about.” A hint of a question softened the edge in his voice ever so slightly. Was he giving her an out, after she so obviously threw herself at his feet?

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she lied, praying that her wide-eyed stare wouldn’t give her away.

He moved so swiftly that she gasped in surprise.

The gasp suddenly froze in her lungs as his mouth claimed her lips in a demanding kiss.

Sabine had kissed men to lure them to dark chambers and stable stalls.

She’d given pecks on the cheek, or whisper-soft brushes of her lips against theirs, with a giggle and a murmured promise of more.

But never had she kissed a man like this.

His lips were soft but firm, challenging her to back down. Yet she refused to retreat. Instead, she kissed him back, meeting his urgent need with her own.

He yanked the plaid out from between them and wrapped it around her. With a strong tug, he pulled her against him.

She gasped again when she collided with his stone wall of a torso, and he took the opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue. The velvet heat spread down her spine and began to pool between her legs.

His tongue coaxed and caressed hers, even as every other inch of him was all hard challenge. One hand snaked up from the plaid to bury itself in the hair at her nape. He pulled slightly, suddenly in complete control of her head. He tilted her back even farther, deepening his plunder of her mouth.

Sabine realized distantly that her own hand tangled in his silken locks. She clung desperately to him, her legs turning to porridge. All rational thought had long since fled her mind, and she let instinct guide her. Arching, she pressed herself against his hard warmth.

In response, he growled low in his throat, sending vibrations through her lips. Their hips ground together, and she could feel the long, hard column of his desire through his breeches.

The ache between her legs thrummed more insistently as her nipples rasped against his tunic, her wet shift providing a scant barrier.

On a ragged pant, he tore his lips from hers. He fisted her hair even tighter, exposing her neck to his roaming mouth.

“God, what are ye doing to me, lass?” he grated out against her neck.

What was
she
doing? She was clinging on for dear life, for with every frantic heartbeat, she feared she would be swept away by the storm of her own desire.

She could only moan in response, needing more from him, yet unable to call forth the words from her passion-addled brain.

One of those big, callused hands slid from her back to her waist, then moved achingly slowly until he cupped her breast. If she’d imagined she couldn’t form a thought before, now her whole mind erupted in dazzling light and heat.

Under his palm, her nipple tightened even more, despite the warmth cocooning around them within the folds of his plaid.

Sensation like she’d never experienced before shot through her, dragging another moan from her throat. Colin’s lips fastened on the sensitive skin below her ear, sending another wave of liquid heat through her veins.

Sabine’s whole body trembled in Colin’s embrace. Her fingers slipped from his hair to his chest as she tried to steady herself against the barrage of pleasure. Her palm flattened over his heart, which hammered erratically beneath his tunic.

Unthinking, her fingers curled in the tunic’s wool as she clawed for purchase in the storm of sensation breaking within her.

The sound of crinkling parchment, muffled by wool, shattered the moment.

Colin jerked away so quickly that she stumbled back until she felt the loch’s cool waters lapping at her ankles. Even as the scorching heat of his body evaporated from her, she felt a flush climbing up her neck and into her cheeks.

“Bloody hell,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes on her. The blue flames had been replaced with shards of icy suspicion. “This was what ye were after all along with that little stunt, wasnae it?”

His big hand closed over his chest. For a frighteningly long moment, Sabine mistook his gesture to mean that she’d come close to stealing his
heart
. Why did that thought send her own heart slamming against her ribs? But then she realized he’d meant to indicate the missive sewn into the wool of his tunic.

“Nay, I—”

“Dinnae try to deny it. I ken ye saw it when that man nigh cleaved me in two. Yer game is up.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but the words clogged in her throat. Aye, she’d planned on using her body to lull him into lowering his guard, yet somewhere in the middle of their kiss, she’d forgotten all about her assignment.

Shame at her failure collided with confusion at her own actions. Fabian had taught her that the mission always came first, yet she’d let herself get lost in Colin’s embrace. The terrible truth was, when her hand had closed over the missive, she hadn’t even been thinking of a way to get at its contents.

“But what should I expect from an English spy,” Colin went on when she couldn’t form a response. “Fool, I, for imagining that ye had one
innocent
hair on yer head.”

If he had slapped her, the sting would have been less than his words. His overt accusation obscured a subtler one—that not only was she guilty of spying, but also that she was no better than a prostitute.

“I am
not
a whore, if that is what you are implying,” she hissed.

“Nay? Then what do ye call this?” His hand made a broad arc over her, taking in her dripping hair and wet shift.

She clutched his plaid tight around her as best she could with her one good arm. Hot embarrassment flooded her. The words of rebuttal simply wouldn’t come—mayhap because he was right. She’d risked her body, her innocence, for the missive that would have made Fabian so proud.

“And I am not a spy,” she managed at last, suppressing a wince at her feeble redirection.

“Och, that’s rich!” he snapped, taking a step toward her.

Sabine curled in on herself slightly, taking a step back into the loch. “I’m not,” she replied, forcing indignation to rise above her sudden fear. “I’m a thief. I acknowledge that. I steal. I do not spy. I am simply…doing what it takes to survive in this world.”

That was the line Fabian always fed her when she dared to question their actions, anyway.

“That’s a bloody fine distinction, lass,” Colin growled, narrowing his eyes. “Ye’re a thief—but ye steal information, which I imagine ye sell to the highest bidder. Yer spying—or thieving, if ye prefer—costs men their
lives
.”

She clamped her teeth shut on a retort. Her clumsy attempt at seduction had failed, but that didn’t mean she would turn on Fabian. The world was a cold and cruel place, and Fabian was the only one who’d ever offered her shelter.

Colin looked half-wild with anger, yet she had no doubt that if she let something slip, he would use it against her. That was how people were—they would use you, unless you used them first.

“Ye said before that ye didnae wish to have innocent blood on yer hands,” he went on. “Well, ye
do
, for the countless missives ye’ve intercepted and given to yer boss has resulted in the deaths of good men—good Scots who are just trying to defend their families and their land.”

Unable to defend herself, she lashed out at him.

“Oh, and what of you?” she shot back even as she retreated to her shins in the loch. “You can’t claim innocence either. You were using me for your own ends. You smiled at me. You kissed me. You wanted something from me, just as I wanted something from you.”

Her voice rose with each accusation, one tumbling after another as her throat grew tighter. Distantly, she registered that she was losing control, but she could hardly think over the hammering of blood in her ears.

A slow, cruel smile spread across Colin’s handsome features. “Oh, aye, I had my own scheme. So, we were both playing each other, but the game is over now. I’ll have my answers from ye, by charms or no’.”

He reached behind him and slipped something out from his belt at his lower back. “I found this among the folds of yer dress,” he said. “I didnae even think to search ye for weapons, injured as ye were—and trusting fool that I am.”

As his hand appeared from behind his back, the object he carried flashed blindingly in the slanting sun.

Her dagger.

Sabine’s legs buckled suddenly, and she fell to her knees in the loch’s shallows. She flung her good arm over her head, as she’d learned to do when Fabian was in one of his moods. It was a pity that her other arm still didn’t work properly, she thought hazily, for it meant she would likely take more blows to the head.

Her mind went strangely blank then. The calm that stole over her was almost serene, except for the little part of her that always feared the pain that awaited her. No matter how many times she’d faced Fabian’s black moods, that little sliver of fear never went away.

She crouched like that, trembling as she waited for the swift kick from Colin’s boot or the hot slice of her own dagger against her flesh.

“What in bloody hell—”

Under her arm, she saw Colin’s boots splash through the shallows toward her before she squeezed her eyes shut.

His large hand closed around her elbow. She couldn’t help the frightened whimper that escaped her lips as he hauled her to her feet.

“I told ye I would never hurt ye,” he said. “I was only going to demand who gave ye this weapon, and who ye’ve used it against.”

She dared a glance at his face. Though his jaw was set so firmly that a muscle jumped in his cheek, his eyes were clouded with confusion.

Her face must have revealed something, for he blinked, sudden clarity registering in the depths of his gaze.

“Ye’ve been hurt before, havenae ye?” he breathed.

When she didn’t answer, his grip on her elbow loosened so that he supported her, but she could have broken free if she’d wanted to.

“The man who gave ye this, and that necklace—your boss. He hurts ye.”

It was as if a hot fist clutched her throat, for hardly a wisp of air could get by, let alone the words lodged there. As she held his gaze, she felt something crack and crumble in her chest. Wordlessly, she nodded.

Those sea-blue eyes clouded with a raging storm, and she almost flinched back, but his hand remained gentle on her.

At last, he let out a long, slow breath, his hand falling from her elbow.

“I’m holding on to this,” he said, tucking her gilded dagger back into his belt. “Come. Ye need to dry yerself and get dressed.”

Colin stepped back and held out his hand, beckoning her toward where his stallion stood through the trees.

Stunned, she slowly walked from the water and into the underbrush.

Why hadn’t he struck her? And why did it seem to upset him so greatly to know that Fabian did?

She’d always believed that the pain she suffered at Fabian’s hands was just part of life—one more piece of proof that the world was a cruel place. Yet Colin had never once hurt her. In fact, his kindness threatened to unravel everything she thought she knew of people and the world.

As she wrung her hair out and slipped her dress over her damp shift, Colin set about making a fire. They moved in silence around each other until the evening faded to night. Colin stretched out a few feet from her, wrapping himself in his cloak and settling in for sleep.

Sabine lay staring at the stars speckling the black sky overhead for a long time. She rubbed her bruised left shoulder, thankful for the freedom of her unbound wrist.

Even without the rope tying her down, however, she felt tethered in place.

She’d failed in securing the missive, of that she was certain. Her plan to woo Colin into a false sense of trust had been a disaster. She had no doubt that he would never let her get near enough again for her to slip the missive away.

Aye, she’d succeeded in getting him to leave her wrist untied, but something far more confusing, far more dangerous, and far more binding held her in place where she lay an arm’s length away from him.

She was beginning to care for him.

* * * *

Miles swung down from his horse in front of the cheery little inn, whose double doors were open to let the cool night air in.

Rabbie and Rollo, the two hulking twin brutes he’d selected to ride with him, followed his lead, dismounting and awaiting his orders.

Miles stood motionless in the shadows for a count of one hundred slow breaths. He kept his gaze on the inn for sights and sounds of trouble, but only merrymaking drifted to him.

He’d already confirmed that the girl and a fair-haired man had been glimpsed taking off east from Dumfries. This village would be right in their path if they’d continued eastward, and the inn was the only one for several miles in any direction.

It was the likeliest spot that Sabine would have gone, as Miles well knew from years of being assigned her only point of contact besides Fabian. Though she was a resourceful and clever girl, she was from the streets. She might hide in the woods for a short while, but she felt safer near towns and villages, where she so often worked.

The man was an unknown factor, however, which meant Miles needed to proceed with caution. Still, naught seemed amiss within the inn.

“Let’s check the stables,” he murmured to the twin shadows looming behind him, nodding with his chin off to the right.