Saint Or Sinner by Christina Kendal Page A

out piles of wooden crates and barrels, and a number of
shadowy men moving to and fro in the relative gloom.
    One man stood taller than all the rest, issuing orders, his
mane of dark blond hair gleaming gold in the flickering lamplight. A mask
obscured much of his face but as she was shoved unceremoniously in his
direction she glimpsed a strong profile and a flash of silver grey eyes. He
crossed his arms, his countenance now in shadow.
             “Well, now. This is a pretty present you’ve brought
me, lads.”
His accent wasn’t local, sounding more northern than southern to her admittedly
untrained ear.
             “Found her lurking at the top of the cliffs, Sir.
No idea who she is or what she was up to.”
             “Bring her closer.”
    He lifted a lamp in order to inspect her face, and she heard
the note of surprise in his voice.
             “Lady Sarah! What in the name of God are you doing wandering
around alone at this time of night? And more to the point, what are you doing here?”
    He was very close now, removing the gag before pushing her
up against the uneven rock wall, his strong hands gripping her shoulders. She experienced
a curious mix of fear and excitement as she gazed up into those glittering eyes,
and her voice shook slightly when she spoke.
             “Do I know you, Sir? It seems unlikely, as I have
no dealings with wreckers and smugglers to my knowledge.”
    She stuck her jaw out defiantly and he pressed his hard body
even closer, pinning her against the cold stone, his lips inches from hers. His
voice was a low growl and she shivered as his warm breath caressed her cheek.
             “Indeed? Fortunate for you that we are neither then,
my lady. This is some other man’s contraband, all we’re guilty of is liberating
it.”
    He smiled mirthlessly, turning her around and pointing her in
the general direction of the cave entrance.
             “Lads, I’m returning this precious package safely
from whence it came. You know what to do.”
    There were general murmurs of assent and one or two ribald
comments as he offered her his arm in readiness to ascend the path. She shook
her head haughtily and strode purposefully on ahead of him.
             “I can manage, thank you.”
    Suddenly she found herself thrust back against the cliff
face, unable to move as he spoke low in her ear.
             “You stupid, headstrong, stubborn woman. Just be
thankful it was my men you ran into or your virtue would now be a thing of the
past, and quite possibly your life forfeit also. Don’t you realise how
dangerous these cliffs are in the dark?”
    She was shaking, partly due to fear and partly due to his close
proximity, and she tried to cover it with bravado.
             “I saw the lights out at sea and thought maybe I
could discern a familiar face and report it to the authorities. I did not
expect to be discovered.”
    He released her with a reluctant sigh.
             “Beautiful women should not wander around alone in
the middle of the night. When I think what might have happened …”
    He still had a hold of her arm, and she felt the shudder run
through him.
             “Please allow me the honour of escorting you home,
my lady. I fear for your safety otherwise.”
    He gazed down at her with those hypnotic eyes and a not
unpleasant shiver ran through her. Instinctively she felt that she could trust
him and curtly nodded her assent.
             “If you must, then.”
    She caught a flash of even white teeth as he grinned broadly,
favouring her with a brief incline of the head before offering his arm again.
This time she accepted graciously, attempting to match her shorter stride to
his much longer one and aware of him easing back when he realised she was
struggling to keep up. They walked on in silence for a while, but eventually
her curiosity got the better of her.
             “Why do they call you