calmed, she rolled over on
her side and stared at the wall. He curled up behind her and wrapped his arms
around her, tugging her against the wall of his chest. His heart thumped,
resonating in the echoes of her soul. Why couldn’t he love her?
Why couldn’t he love her the way she loved him?
With all his heart?
Because he wasn’t that kind of man.
And he never would be.
“I meant what I said.” His voice rumbled sleepily in her
ear. “Never run from me, Violet. I won’t allow it. I cannot allow it.”
She didn’t answer, other than a soft grunt. He seemed to
accept that as an assent and tightened his hold. His warmth seeped into her.
His breath was a tender comfort on her cheek. She could lie like this forever.
She would not, of course.
As soon as he fell asleep, she would slip away.
And this time, he wouldn’t catch her.
* * * * *
Something woke him deep in the night. He’d been in the arms
of a delicious dream so it took him a moment to come fully awake and recall
where he was. Violet had rolled away so he reached for her…and found nothing
but warm blankets.
Ewan shot up and glared at the empty spot on the bed. He
raked the cabin with a furious gaze. There was little light, only a slight glow
from the embers of the fire, but he could tell she wasn’t here. She’d gone.
With a plaintive roar, he sprang from the bed and pulled on
his braes. He saw at once that the lamp was gone as well. Fuck.
He’d told her in no uncertain terms. She was not to run from
him.
He hoped to God she hadn’t been gone long, that the sound of
the door was what had awoken him.
He ran outside and scanned the tree line, his heart thudding
painfully in his throat. He’d only just found her. He couldn’t bear to lose her
again. He couldn’t.
And that terror raging in his breast? A panic far beyond
that of a captor defied. He didn’t dare scrutinize that.
He saw the light in the distance, flickering like a bobbing
star. He set off toward it at a dead run. How dare she. How dare she? Fury and
exhilaration and the bitter aftertaste of dread twined together in his gut.
It did not take him long to catch up with her. His night
vision was good. He skirted the fallen logs and leapt over gullies and ruts
with ease. Wayward branches were no match for his resolve.
She was in sight within seconds.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him coming. She let
out a little cry and started to scamper away, in another direction. There was
no hope for her. No way she could outrun him. Not with her short legs, the
hampering of her skirts.
He captured her easily, looping an arm around her waist. He
hefted her off her feet, turned around and, pausing only to pick up the lamp,
which she’d dropped in that headlong fruitless flight, towed her back to the
cabin.
She kicked and squirmed and pummeled him with tiny fists.
“Beast!” she bellowed more than once. As though it was the only word she could
think of.
When they came to the door, she hooked it with her grip and
tried to stop him from taking her farther. He pulled her free with ease and
dumped her onto the bed and glowered at her.
She was a sight. A glorious sight with her hair all a’muss,
her bosom heaving, her lips parted, her eyes ablaze. She perched on the
mattress, clearly poised to run again, glaring at him.
“I told you.” A gruff, feral snarl. “I told you not to run
from me.”
“Go to hell, McCloud!”
He wasn’t sure what infuriated him more, her defiant
expression or her words. Or his blood was simply running high. But the
provocation she presented was more than he could resist.
He took hold of her arm and yanked her to her feet, then sat
on the bed himself and flung her over his lap. His palm landed on her upturned
bottom. The smack resonated.
“Noooo!” She writhed and thrashed on his lap.
She shouldn’t have. She really shouldn’t have.
This resistance enflamed his ire.
He smacked her again, and again. But spanking her through
the muffling folds
her side and stared at the wall. He curled up behind her and wrapped his arms
around her, tugging her against the wall of his chest. His heart thumped,
resonating in the echoes of her soul. Why couldn’t he love her?
Why couldn’t he love her the way she loved him?
With all his heart?
Because he wasn’t that kind of man.
And he never would be.
“I meant what I said.” His voice rumbled sleepily in her
ear. “Never run from me, Violet. I won’t allow it. I cannot allow it.”
She didn’t answer, other than a soft grunt. He seemed to
accept that as an assent and tightened his hold. His warmth seeped into her.
His breath was a tender comfort on her cheek. She could lie like this forever.
She would not, of course.
As soon as he fell asleep, she would slip away.
And this time, he wouldn’t catch her.
* * * * *
Something woke him deep in the night. He’d been in the arms
of a delicious dream so it took him a moment to come fully awake and recall
where he was. Violet had rolled away so he reached for her…and found nothing
but warm blankets.
Ewan shot up and glared at the empty spot on the bed. He
raked the cabin with a furious gaze. There was little light, only a slight glow
from the embers of the fire, but he could tell she wasn’t here. She’d gone.
With a plaintive roar, he sprang from the bed and pulled on
his braes. He saw at once that the lamp was gone as well. Fuck.
He’d told her in no uncertain terms. She was not to run from
him.
He hoped to God she hadn’t been gone long, that the sound of
the door was what had awoken him.
He ran outside and scanned the tree line, his heart thudding
painfully in his throat. He’d only just found her. He couldn’t bear to lose her
again. He couldn’t.
And that terror raging in his breast? A panic far beyond
that of a captor defied. He didn’t dare scrutinize that.
He saw the light in the distance, flickering like a bobbing
star. He set off toward it at a dead run. How dare she. How dare she? Fury and
exhilaration and the bitter aftertaste of dread twined together in his gut.
It did not take him long to catch up with her. His night
vision was good. He skirted the fallen logs and leapt over gullies and ruts
with ease. Wayward branches were no match for his resolve.
She was in sight within seconds.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him coming. She let
out a little cry and started to scamper away, in another direction. There was
no hope for her. No way she could outrun him. Not with her short legs, the
hampering of her skirts.
He captured her easily, looping an arm around her waist. He
hefted her off her feet, turned around and, pausing only to pick up the lamp,
which she’d dropped in that headlong fruitless flight, towed her back to the
cabin.
She kicked and squirmed and pummeled him with tiny fists.
“Beast!” she bellowed more than once. As though it was the only word she could
think of.
When they came to the door, she hooked it with her grip and
tried to stop him from taking her farther. He pulled her free with ease and
dumped her onto the bed and glowered at her.
She was a sight. A glorious sight with her hair all a’muss,
her bosom heaving, her lips parted, her eyes ablaze. She perched on the
mattress, clearly poised to run again, glaring at him.
“I told you.” A gruff, feral snarl. “I told you not to run
from me.”
“Go to hell, McCloud!”
He wasn’t sure what infuriated him more, her defiant
expression or her words. Or his blood was simply running high. But the
provocation she presented was more than he could resist.
He took hold of her arm and yanked her to her feet, then sat
on the bed himself and flung her over his lap. His palm landed on her upturned
bottom. The smack resonated.
“Noooo!” She writhed and thrashed on his lap.
She shouldn’t have. She really shouldn’t have.
This resistance enflamed his ire.
He smacked her again, and again. But spanking her through
the muffling folds
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