His Stolen Bride BN (15 page)

And his kiss… Zounds, but Drake had possessed her mouth with all the fury of a man’s
fire, sparking a fluid ache that had penetrated her body the moment their mouths met.

Averyl swallowed a rising tide of remembered desire. Again, she felt his lips covering
hers, his warmth caressing her. His touch had left her faint, confused, filled with
yearning…

She had to escape, as soon as they traveled to the mainland. True, she wanted to save
her home from ruin and her people from starvation. And she would do so by marrying
Murdoch MacDougall once she was free, if he would still have her. But a new sense
of urgency for escape assailed her. Averyl knew only the unsettling emotions Drake
engendered could be at fault.

Clearly, she could not wed the man, live with him as his wife in the most intimate
ways, when he felt nothing for her. Such would be a grievous error indeed. Unthinkable,
surely. Averyl frowned. Yet had she not been willing to wed Murdoch MacDougall, then
see where life and love led them? Why did she find the same idea so abhorrent with
Drake?

“Get up now,” he barked. “Else I will take your presence in bed as an invitation.”

Averyl rolled over and fixed a glare on him before rising from the warm sheets. “A
good morn to you, too, lout.”

He scowled at her sarcasm, his red-rimmed eyes betraying a lack of sleep that filled
her with perverse pleasure. “Dress yourself. I will await you outside. We travel within
the hour.”

“To the mainland?” Had her time to escape finally come? She scarce dared to breathe,
lest hope flee her.

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Aye, and I will watch you every moment. Do not
imagine you will escape me.”

Drake left the cottage then, and Averyl’s heart began to pound. They
would
travel to a town. A town with other people. A town off this island! She bit her lip
to restrain her cry of excitement. Despite his warning, she knew this was her opportunity
to elude him, perhaps her last. She must seize it before he forced a loveless marriage
upon her.

She completed her quickest toilet ever and raced out to the morn. Drake unlocked the
gate and held a strip of black cloth.

“Lean toward me,” he demanded.

He meant to blindfold her. She panicked. Dark would settle upon her gaze. Blackness
would rule.

Shaking her head, she backed away, eyes wide. “Nay.”

Puzzlement overtook his features, then understanding, tinged with regret and something
softer than she had ever seen upon the harsh angles of his face.

“Naught will hurt you, Averyl,” he whispered. “This I vow.”

“But—”

“’Tis only until I launch the boat.”

His boat, he wanted to hide it. And she wanted light.

But she wanted freedom more, and could not vie for it until they reached the mainland.
Though it chafed her pride and her courage to do so, Averyl bowed her head. No need
to alert Locke to her plan. Besides, after today, she would have no need to learn
where he’d hidden the vessel.

Semi-dark settled over her as the blindfolded settled across her face. He left it
surprisingly loose. Golden sun seeped in from the top, kissed her cheeks with warmth.
Averyl sensed Drake close behind. And though such did not follow logic, the fear did
not seize her when he stood near.

Drake helped her into the boat and heaved it into the sea. Within moments, the water
lapped around the small craft as the breeze blew strands of her hair with summer and
salt.

She felt his touch on her face, at the back of her head. Her heart picked up speed
at his nearness. Then he lifted the blindfold away and cast her a searching gaze,
real concern in his rich earth-brown eyes.

Knowing not what to say, Averyl nodded and looked away to the island retreating in
the distance. It rose up from the sea, an abrupt cliff on one side, a rolling shore
on the other. Green and mist-enshrouded, standing stones a tribute to its pagan past,
the isle seemed a place of mystery, of secrets. The perfect retreat for a man like
Drake.

Riding the choppy waves of breeze-blown water, Averyl calmed her roiling stomach with
deep breaths of salty air and thoughts of escape. The rhythmic swish of Drake’s oar
through the sharp sway of the blue-gray waves brought her ever closer to freedom.

When the movement stopped and Drake disembarked on soft-packed earth, she strained
to see or hear anything that would help her gain her bearings. Only Drake’s footsteps
sounded in the mist-damp silence. A small, still town lazed nearby.

After disembarking, Averyl studied the greenery and quaint cottages about. The air
smelled of fish, pungent and strong. She made a mental note that Murdoch—and freedom—lay
to the east.

Almost no one inhabited the streets. Where would everyone be on such a bonny day?

Before she could look about much, Drake gripped her hand, and not out of any affection,
Averyl knew. As they walked through the
clachan
, passing several children who scampered about, chasing a yapping puppy, she searched
her surroundings for an escape route. He squeezed her hand tighter and sent her a
warning stare. Cursing beneath her breath, Averyl knew she had little choice but to
wait to make good her escape.

When they came to the back of a tiny inn minutes later, Averyl shot him a questioning
glance.

“We will spend the night here,” he said. “I call many in this
clachan
a friend. No one will aid your escape.”

“I had no such plans,” she protested in a voice she hoped carried innocence.

He scowled. “You ought not to lie unless you do it well.”

With that mocking advice, he knocked on the door. In seconds, a balding, dark-haired
man answered. His cheeky, redheaded wife stood behind him, gasping with excitement.

Drake greeted, “Gordan, my friend. ’Tis good to see you.”

The older man bellowed a hearty welcome. “Aye, and ye, too.” The two men shook hands,
then Gordan clapped Drake on the back. “Edina said just yesterday ’tis been far too
long since ye visited.”

“It has been. I apologize, Mrs. Gibson.” Drake regarded the innkeeper’s wife. “’Twas
kind of you to miss me.”

The plump Mrs. Gibson blushed and waved his words away.

Averyl tried to close her gaping mouth. Never had she seen Drake smile so sincerely,
nor imagined such reputable-looking folk would call him friend. Were they fools?

Or did they know something about Drake that she did not?

He smiled, then cleared his throat. “Gordan, Mrs. Gibson, this is Averyl.”

To her shock, Drake brought her hand to his lips for a brief kiss. “She is to be my
wife. We will be married this very day.”

* * * * *

“I never consented to wed with you,” Averyl hissed once they were behind closed doors.

“You would rather have Gordan and Edina believe you stay in this room with me as my
leman?” he quizzed, dark brow raised.

She avoided glancing at the room’s lone white-quilted bed. “I care not what they think
of me. ’Tis you I am curious about. What would they say if they knew you had abducted
another man’s intended and were forcing her to wife?”

Drake paused, the angled planes of his face tightened in the harsh silence.

“Mrs. Gibson will expect us to share that bed,” she argued, pointing to the pillow-laden
mattress in the corner.

He towered over her, an unfathomable stare shadowing his face. “And so we will.”

Averyl felt her breathing quicken. She dropped his heated stare, unable to hold it
any longer. “Why? You do not love me. You care not for me beyond the fact I bring
you revenge.”

“I have told you ’tis not love that makes a marriage.”

“For me, it is, and I will not share a bed with a man whose heart is so closed.”

She marched closer, hands perched on her hips. ’Twas a mistake. Averyl hated to admit
his nearness made her knees weak. But denying such was useless.

Locke’s eyes leapt with something before he banked the light. He continued to stare
at her, hands on hips, mouth irritatingly closed.

“Damn you, nor will I sacrifice my maidenhood to your hatred and your schemes.” She
whirled away from him.

“Are you certain? I remember moments last night when you seemed willing enough.”

With a gasp, Averyl did something she had never done to another in her life; she slapped
him.

Locke’s head snapped to the side. His jaw tightened. Averyl expected retaliation in
kind. A severe chastising, at the very least. Instead, he took her assault in silence,
his face without expression. His lack of emotion stunned her.

“You really have no heart, do you?”

“You know well I do not.”

His reply was so unequivocal Averyl knew she would never rouse his compassion, much
less any tender feelings. Why could he not care, at least a little?

And why did she care if he did?

Biting back fury, she vowed, “Enduring your touch is a mistake I will not repeat again.”

So quickly it dazed her, Drake seized her by the waist and drew her flush against
his solid length. Averyl drew in a sharp breath at the feel of his unyielding chest
and rigid thighs against her.

“I’ve no intention of taking a bride in name only.”

Something in her body weakened at the whispered challenge of his words, at their closeness.
Senses leapt to life as she took in the breadth of his shoulders and his heated male
scent. Her legs turned to warm butter as aching memories provided the salty-sweet
taste of his kiss. Averyl’s insides flared with heat.

“Your body was made for my hands,” he whispered, sliding his palms down to cup her
buttocks and bring her closer. “God shaped you capable of bringing a man supreme pleasure.
You will fulfill that promise with me, not Murdoch. Never Murdoch.”

Averyl closed her eyes and swallowed a lump of heat his words and nearness evoked.
Despite his understanding of her fear of darkness and the fact he claimed to find
her beautiful, she must remember she served but one purpose for him: Revenge. Why
did that cold truth hurt so much?

“Never with you,” she managed to choke out before she broke from his embrace and turned
from him.

“Only with me,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning the skin at her nape. Fire leapt
through her. Averyl wanted to run. She stayed rooted in her spot as his rich voice
poured over her with the headiness of spiced wine.

“I want you in a way Murdoch cannot claim, and I intend to give you every soft pleasure
for which your body was made,” he murmured, his finger tracing a fiery path across
her shoulder. “And as your husband, I will protect you during our year together and
see to your needs. Murdoch would make no such vow that is not a lie. Think on that
whilst I am gone.”

With a nearly silent click of the lock, Drake departed. She drew in a shaky breath
and sank to the bed. What did he mean about wanting her in a way Murdoch did not?
What
could
he mean?

Averyl shook her head. It mattered not. Drake merely played games with his words.
Aye, he might want her, but only as a symbol of hate, never as a woman. Never as one
he could love.

No matter how sweet his kisses, that she must remember.

* * * * *

Drake reached the threshold of the kitchen and paused, drawing in a deep breath. Averyl
was so damned determined to return to Murdoch. He saw that in her bright hazel eyes,
and it soured his stomach. Much as he wanted to deny it, the thought of her giving
herself to a craven miscreant like Murdoch clawed at him. In fact, the thought of
her in any other man’s bed left Drake scowling and ill-tempered.

Forcing the foreign thoughts aside, he watched Edina slice vegetables for her hearty
soup. The aroma of roasting hen wafted across the room, and to her left sat several
pastries, each designed to delight the tongue with its sweetness. No doubt she was
preparing this feast to honor the marriage he must thrust upon Averyl. A marriage
in which her soft heart was doomed to crave an emotion he could not give.

A marriage he would not see end in disaster, like his parents’.

“Mrs. Gibson?” he called.

“Aye. Come in, lad. Come in. Why aren’t ye upstairs wi’ yer beauty of a bride?”

Drake cleared the lump in his throat, hoping it would dislodge the tightening in his
chest. “I must buy supplies now, for Averyl and I will leave early in the morn.”

Edina planted plump hands on her hips in disappointment. “Oh, ye canna mean to leave
so soon. Where do ye go?”

“’Tis better if you do not know. Should Murdoch and his henchmen question you, they
will be ruthless if they suspect you have information that could lead them to me.”

“I willna lose my tongue around that devil. Ye canna stay? Ye bring Gordan such joy
and laughter. We’ve missed ye.”

Something in him softened. “I, too, have missed you, but if we stay longer, you would
only be in more danger. Until I prove my innocence, I am still a hunted man.”

“I know, but I was hopin’…” She paused. “Verra well.”

“And if Murdoch found Averyl, he would use her in any way necessary to bring about
my downfall.”

He paused to touch the older woman’s shoulder. “I’ve locked Averyl in our room, and
there she must stay. She believes if I give myself over to Murdoch’s mercies, he and
the clan will believe my innocence.”

“He has no mercy.” Shock tightened Edina’s kind face.

“And I have told her so, but she does not understand. For her safety and mine, could
you see that she does not leave our room whilst I am gone?”

“Of course, lad. Once she haes been wed to ye for a year or two, she’ll ken she must
obey her man.”

“Aye,” Drake lied.

Even a lifetime together wouldn’t engender obedience in Averyl. That he knew.

Odd, he’d always assumed a dutiful wife would please him, if ever he took one. Now
such a paragon sounded dull. He frowned.

“When ye return, we’ll have a feast to honor yer marriage,” Mrs. Gibson offered.