remark about her needing to learn a little restraint. Her . It was too absurd to believe.
Glancing sideways, she studied his hands as he selected another pebble. They were broad with a sprinkling of hair, the veins running beneath the tanned surface manly and intriguing. She remembered the feel of those callused palms on her. Their texture had been erotic, rough and arousing against her skin.
She squeezed her eyes shut in a tight blink before turning her attention back to the swiftly moving waters, willing herself to stop feeling this way around him. In truth, to stop feeling at all. To return to the Astrid she knew, the Astrid in control of her emotions, who never let things like anger and desire rule her. Cold. Like her father. Stronger, she had always believed, than selfish, emotional creatures like her mother who thought only of their own pleasure and happiness.
He began to speak, then stopped suddenly.
His eyes changed, grew hard, scanning the landscape like a hawk.
All at once, he reminded her of the man she first faced on the roadside, the primitive who had shot three men dead without blinking an eye.
“What?” she whispered. “What is it—”
His hand sliced the air, the gesture silencing her. Her heart beat faster, the pulse at her neck a furious pounding beneath her flesh.
She looked around them, seeing nothing except the still of a Scottish wood. She glanced back at him, trying to determine what he saw, what he heard.
Suddenly, he grasped her wrist and dragged her off the ground and into his arms with a swiftness that stole her breath. His hands came up on either side of her head, holding her motionless as he stifled her cry with his lips.
She shoved at his chest, stilling the instant she realized he was not kissing her. Not as a man bent on ravishment would. His lips were firm against hers, warm, moving but not caressing…talking, whispering. “They’re watching us from across the brook. In a moment I will move toward my rifle. And you will run. Do you understand? Run for the brush behind me. Hide. Don’t come out unless I call for you.”
They’re watching us from across the brook.
His words and their implication slithered through her like a snake winding in grass.
A hiss of breath escaped her mouth, fanning his cool lips. She nodded, her wide eyes staring into the glittering blue of his.
He gave a single curt nod. And then released her.
Stumbling, she ran, the metallic taste of fear rising thick in her throat, flooding her mouth. She didn’t look over her shoulder. Didn’t dare. Not even as she heard shouts and splashing water. She did as Griffin commanded, even as her heart clenched at whatever was happening to him.
Panic fed her limbs. Her feet struck the earth in hard thuds, pounding in her ears, matching the heavy thrum of her heart. As she tore through trees and tangled gorse, she soon realized that her racing footsteps were not the only sound. Someone followed her, crashing through the brush, his breath a harsh wheeze, building fast behind her.
She ducked beneath a low hanging branch just as a crack of gunfire split the air. She jerked to a halt, terror striking deep in her heart. Griffin .
A hand caught and snagged hold of her cloak, yanking so tightly the strings at her throat cut into her flesh. Gagging, she clawed at the ties. With a spin, she fell into a pair of thick arms.
“Quick little thing,” a thick burr gasped against her ear.
Astrid caught only a flash of dark eyes set within a gaunt face before she was tossed through the air. A brawny shoulder dug into her belly. His every step bounced her until she thought she would be ill. Just when she thought she could stand it no more, he stopped and dropped her unceremoniously to the hard ground.
Wincing, she shoved the hair that had fallen loose from her face and looked about, taking in a scene far different from moments ago. Gone was the peaceful afternoon, the quiet song of the burbling brook, the
Glancing sideways, she studied his hands as he selected another pebble. They were broad with a sprinkling of hair, the veins running beneath the tanned surface manly and intriguing. She remembered the feel of those callused palms on her. Their texture had been erotic, rough and arousing against her skin.
She squeezed her eyes shut in a tight blink before turning her attention back to the swiftly moving waters, willing herself to stop feeling this way around him. In truth, to stop feeling at all. To return to the Astrid she knew, the Astrid in control of her emotions, who never let things like anger and desire rule her. Cold. Like her father. Stronger, she had always believed, than selfish, emotional creatures like her mother who thought only of their own pleasure and happiness.
He began to speak, then stopped suddenly.
His eyes changed, grew hard, scanning the landscape like a hawk.
All at once, he reminded her of the man she first faced on the roadside, the primitive who had shot three men dead without blinking an eye.
“What?” she whispered. “What is it—”
His hand sliced the air, the gesture silencing her. Her heart beat faster, the pulse at her neck a furious pounding beneath her flesh.
She looked around them, seeing nothing except the still of a Scottish wood. She glanced back at him, trying to determine what he saw, what he heard.
Suddenly, he grasped her wrist and dragged her off the ground and into his arms with a swiftness that stole her breath. His hands came up on either side of her head, holding her motionless as he stifled her cry with his lips.
She shoved at his chest, stilling the instant she realized he was not kissing her. Not as a man bent on ravishment would. His lips were firm against hers, warm, moving but not caressing…talking, whispering. “They’re watching us from across the brook. In a moment I will move toward my rifle. And you will run. Do you understand? Run for the brush behind me. Hide. Don’t come out unless I call for you.”
They’re watching us from across the brook.
His words and their implication slithered through her like a snake winding in grass.
A hiss of breath escaped her mouth, fanning his cool lips. She nodded, her wide eyes staring into the glittering blue of his.
He gave a single curt nod. And then released her.
Stumbling, she ran, the metallic taste of fear rising thick in her throat, flooding her mouth. She didn’t look over her shoulder. Didn’t dare. Not even as she heard shouts and splashing water. She did as Griffin commanded, even as her heart clenched at whatever was happening to him.
Panic fed her limbs. Her feet struck the earth in hard thuds, pounding in her ears, matching the heavy thrum of her heart. As she tore through trees and tangled gorse, she soon realized that her racing footsteps were not the only sound. Someone followed her, crashing through the brush, his breath a harsh wheeze, building fast behind her.
She ducked beneath a low hanging branch just as a crack of gunfire split the air. She jerked to a halt, terror striking deep in her heart. Griffin .
A hand caught and snagged hold of her cloak, yanking so tightly the strings at her throat cut into her flesh. Gagging, she clawed at the ties. With a spin, she fell into a pair of thick arms.
“Quick little thing,” a thick burr gasped against her ear.
Astrid caught only a flash of dark eyes set within a gaunt face before she was tossed through the air. A brawny shoulder dug into her belly. His every step bounced her until she thought she would be ill. Just when she thought she could stand it no more, he stopped and dropped her unceremoniously to the hard ground.
Wincing, she shoved the hair that had fallen loose from her face and looked about, taking in a scene far different from moments ago. Gone was the peaceful afternoon, the quiet song of the burbling brook, the
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