Lorraine Heath - Midnight Pleasures with a Scoundrel

The irony did not escape him. He-who was so very skilled at planning and executing the swindle-he’d been effectively swindled.

Removing the saddle from his horse, he draped it over one side of the stall, near where he’d earlier hung the bridle and bit. Having rarely ridden a horse, he wasn’t a skilled horseman. Nor did he have any experience in actually caring for the creatures. He’d expected to at least find a groom here who could see to the matter for him. He patted the horse’s neck. It shied away from him. The closer they’d come to the sea, the more skittish it had become. Damned big brute, but then Swindler needed it to accommodate his size.

He went in search of oats. The barn was small, in need of repair. There didn’t appear to be any servants about anywhere. Perhaps Emma hadn’t lied about her circumstances. She’d not had the means to have a proper Season.

Where once he’d felt sympathy with her plight, he was no longer certain what he was now experiencing. He cursed Rockberry for bringing Scotland Yard into his personal mess. He cursed Sir David for deciding Swindler was the best man for the job. And he cursed himself for failing miserably at ensuring that a lord was not killed.

He’d given no credence to Rockberry’s claims or fears. Eventually his duty had become secondary to his desire to be with the lady. He’d put his own wants and needs first.

He finally located a nearly empty bin of oats. After scooping some into a feed sack, he walked back toward the stall where he’d left the horse. He was in the process of slipping the sack over the horse’s head when he heard a large clap of thunder. The horse whinnied and reared up. He had been so distracted with thoughts of the woman he now knew as Emma that he was slow to react. He twisted-

His head exploded into sharp, blinding pain.

Blackness.

“What do you suppose his intentions are?” Eleanor asked as she and Emma closed and secured an outside shutter on the house. They’d begun the task after James had ground out, “I need to see to my horse” and had led the large beast toward the small barn.

For the briefest of moments, when he took her in his arms and slashed his mouth over hers, Emma had dared believe he was here for another reason. But his kiss had been punishing, his arms like iron bands around her. He was furious. Not that she blamed him. But she also knew he possessed a kindness, a gentleness. But more, he understood justice. She’d seen, touched, the scars on his back. If anyone knew the unfairness of the criminal justice system, it would be him.

“I suspect he intends to return us to London where we can pay for our sins.”

“If that’s the case, then he only needs to take me,” Eleanor said stubbornly. “After all, I’m the one who actually did the deed.”

She loved her sister dearly for striving to spare her. “We’re in this together.”

With a sigh, Eleanor marched around the corner to close up the next window. Emma began to follow, then changed her mind. She needed to speak with James-alone. She was halfway to the barn when she saw his horse grazing nearby. She wondered if James had no luck finding grain for beast. Quickening her pace, she entered the barn.

Her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of him sprawled near a straw-filled stall. “Oh, my God.”

Rushing over, she knelt beside him. She could see blood matting his hair. Very gently, she moved the strands aside. He had a nasty gash on the side of his head. The horse must have-

James’s eyes flew open. She released a startled gasp. The walls spun dizzily around as he grabbed her and flipped her onto her back on the straw before pouncing on her like some wild beast. She started to pound her fists into him, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands above her head. His face was pained, but she thought it was more an emotional pain than a physical one. His harsh breathing echoed around her.

Then his face gentled, almost as though against his will. He held her wrists with one meaty paw while he used his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Eleanor,” he rasped, a wealth of emotion wrapped in the single word. She could hardly stand to hear her sister’s name uttered between his lips.

“Emma,” she corrected softly.

“Emma.” He lowered his head until his breath was wafting over her cheek like the first breeze of spring, gentle but determined to herald in the change of seasons. “Emma.”

She didn’t protest when his mouth covered hers, but the kiss was very much like the one he’d delivered at the door, harder, almost desperate, as though he wanted to recapture what they’d had in London but knew as well as she did that it was lost to them. He was correct. Whatever they’d been building was erected on the faulty foundation of lies and deception. It couldn’t withstand the storm of betrayal. It would crumble, and if he possessed even a shred of mercy, he’d allow it to be swept out to sea.

But at that moment she sensed there was no mercy in him. His hand tightened around her wrists until her fingers began to numb. Yet she didn’t tell him to stop, because to do so would mean moving her mouth away from his, and she wasn’t yet ready to give that up. How was she to know which stroke of his tongue would be the last? When would his lips stop molding themselves against hers?

His large hand cradled her side, slid down it, and tucked her up more firmly beneath him. The weight of him felt so very good. He was sturdy like a rock along the shoreline, which the wave-no matter how mighty it might be-could not move. He smelled slightly different than he had in London. Now she inhaled the scent of horse, leather, and salt from the sea air that had blown through his hair as he’d traveled to find her. Yet beneath it all, she detected the essence that was him. Everything about him was wonderful. Everything about him would soon be stripped away from her and reduced to memories that would haunt the remainder of her life.

“Well, what have we here?”

Emma startled at Eleanor’s voice echoing through the barn. James lifted his head, then went very still. She could see the confusion in the green eyes she adored, and she was left to wonder if the blow to the head had disoriented him. Anger and disappointment clouded his gaze just before he rolled off her. With a low groan, he sat back against the side of the stall and put his hand to the back of his head.

“I think his horse must have kicked him,” Emma said, her face growing warm with embarrassment. Scrambling to her feet, she nearly lost her balance. She’d forgotten how weak her legs became whenever he kissed her. They were like jam trying to support her. “He has a nasty gash.”

“Yes, I saw his horse out there,” Eleanor said. “That’s the reason I thought I should investigate.”

“You should come to the house so I can stitch you up,” Emma offered him quietly.

“I’ll finish seeing to your horse,” Eleanor said.

“Don’t even think about running,” James commanded in a stern voice. “There is nowhere on this earth that you can go that I will not find you.”

Eleanor threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “In case it’s failed your notice, Mr. Swindler, there’s a storm coming. Only a fool would run in the storm.”

Judging by the harsh, uncompromising look James gave Eleanor, Emma was of a mind that only a fool wouldn’t run when the predator was near.

Swindler sat in a chair near a window in an upstairs bedchamber so Eleanor-no, Emma-would have better light by which to work, because they’d closed up the windows downstairs. He couldn’t deny that her sister had the right of it. He could see heavy dark clouds rolling forward in the distance, dimming the sunlight. He tried to focus on the weather but seemed unable to concentrate on anything other than Emma’s slender fingers gently parting his hair. He felt the fool for allowing her to entice him into wanting her. The hell of it was that she didn’t even need to try.