Lace & Lead (novella) (2 page)

That was always the way it worked with the aristocracy. Frigging cry-babies.

Until then, all he was doing was appreciating the strawberry scent of her light brown hair and the warmth seeping through her thin jacket when he closed in on her, forcing her to move faster to avoid his proximity. After all, nothing would be happening between him and Her Primness.

Emmaline’s nerves were screaming at her, not because of the unexpected exercise or the threat of the pursuers behind them, but because Taggart was directly behind her. With the darkness of the tunnel, he kept running into her and it was getting old.

Every misstep let her feel the thick vest that covered his broad chest, his height and width enveloping her. He absolutely dwarfed her and it felt delicious. Each time he pressed against her, she found herself breathing in deeply, trying to capture that combination of dirt and sweat and sulphur and man.

This was crazy. There was no way she could be falling for a man like Peirce Taggart. As if he knew the thoughts running through her head, he bumped into her again. “Knock it off,” she snapped.

“So sorry, honey,” he said, although he didn’t move away from her.

“Get off,” she said again, stopping suddenly, hoping it would force him off her back.

Instead he ran into her and for a moment her body moulded to his. Goosebumps rose on her arms and a shiver of awareness shot through her. He felt
good
.

“Fuck,” he snarled under his breath, against her hair. His hand shot out, gripping her waist. His fingers tightened, pulling her back against him...

And then he pushed her forward, sending her stumbling toward Douglass.

“Whoa,” Douglass said, catching her before she hit the ground.

She spun back to Taggart, aware he couldn’t see her well in the darkness. But she was still able to make out the darkened outline of his hulking body. “What was that for?” she demanded.

He didn’t respond, so she closed the distance between them and pushed him in the chest. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Pushing against him was like pushing against a mountain: utterly futile. She prepared to push him again, planning to put more weight into it, but he caught her hand before it connected with his body armour. “You need to stop doing that,” he said conversationally.

“Let go!” She fought him, but his huge hand was gripping her tiny wrist lightly, just enough to prevent her from getting out of his grasp.

“River’s coming up,” he continued, as if she weren’t struggling. “That means we’re almost out of this hell hole. I’d prefer that those assholes who are following us don’t know where we’ve gone.”

Now he released her and she stumbled back a few steps. “Kai, leave a present for our friends. Make sure it throws them off.”

She could hear someone move past her in the dark and knew Kai was working his way back down the tunnel to lay the trap.

“Douglass, let’s see if the rafts are still there.”

Taggart brushed against her as he moved away. She shifted awkwardly in the dark. “What should I do?”

“You really want to help?”

“Well...yes.”

“Stay here until I yell for you, shut the hell up and stop being such a
goddamn distraction
.”

She listened to him move off in the darkness, toward the faint sound of water. She felt appropriately cowed, but was reeling even more from his unintentional admission.
He thought she was a distraction.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Douglass admonished him.

Peirce muttered something foul under his breath. But Douglass didn’t let it go.

“It’s not her fault.”

“I know that,” Peirce agreed, pissed that he was so irrationally irritated. “It’s her old man’s fault but it’s our job to get her out and deliver her back to him. Besides, it’ll be nice to see his face when I tell him our price has gone up.”

The river was nearby. Peirce could hear the water lapping against the limestone, hoping that the emergency rafts he’d put down there would be enough to get them all out.

“Have you told her yet?”

He stiffened at Douglass’s question. Gritted his teeth. “No. I haven’t told her.”

“Why not?”

He unstrapped his light from its leg holster and took a quick look around the small cavern. The rafts were still there. He started to unpack them, prepare them for inflation, but Douglass hadn’t moved. He just stood there like a dark cloud with crossed arms, watching Peirce avoid the real issue.

Peirce sighed and focused on undoing the straps. “What’s the point in telling her that her old man sold her to some Traverian sex trader to pay off a debt?”

He heard Douglass’s low oath. Peirce’s back straightened and he closed his eyes. “She didn’t follow orders, did she?”

“No.” Emmaline’s voice was quavering but clear. “She didn’t.”

Chapter 2

He steeled himself to turn around and see the shock and sadness on her face. But when he did, there was something worse there: resignation. Her reaction was a punch to the gut. “You knew?”

She managed a weak smile at him. “You didn’t know my father very well, did you Mr. Taggart? There weren’t a lot of reasons for him to want me safe.” She took a shuddering breath and crossed her arms over her chest. She continued to meet his gaze, her own eyes defiant. “I’m not stupid. I knew you were my best bet to get out of there.”

Douglass chuckled and Kai, who’d just joined them, asked, “What’s going on?”

Peirce couldn’t look away from her. In the two weeks he’d been around her, she’d driven him absolutely insane. She never thought ahead, she always acted on some kind of empathetic instinct that was someday going to get her killed and she was the most passive-aggressively stubborn person he’d ever had to interact with. This new knowledge that she’d played him like a fiddle wasn’t helping either.

Peirce stepped closer to Emmaline. She didn’t move, although he could see the way she was gnawing at her lower lip. “What do you propose we do about this then, Miss Gregson?”

“I have money. I can pay you—”

“You have ten thousand credits lying around?”

Her face blanched, but she stood firm. “I have seven thousand,” she said calmly, “and I’ll pay off the rest.” She reached down and began to lift the hem of her voluminous skirt. Douglass and Kai immediately began protesting and Peirce stepped forward to stop her. She glared daggers at them all and put her hands on her hips. “You thought
that
was how I was going to pay you off? Not in this lifetime!”

Her hands were trembling, but she reached back down and lifted the hem. Peirce was treated to quite a show of the lace of her white linen drawers and the delicate, scalloped edges of her petticoats as she worked at the seam of the blue fabric. Finally she let out a sound of success and motioned him closer. A quick flash of the light showed what she was so proud of.

The lady had sewn jewellery into the hem of her skirt. Admiration tugged at him, even as he tried to keep his voice even. No need to make her ego get any bigger. “Clever.”

“Suggested by one of the servants loyal to me,” she responded, dropping the skirt and raising back up. “Once I pawn them, you’ll get the rest of your money.”

Peirce looked past her at Douglass and Kai. Douglass nodded instantly.
Damn bleeding heart
.

Kai shrugged. “I don’t care as long as we get paid,” he said with his trademark devil-may-care grin. Peirce rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he told Emmaline. “You have a deal.
For now
.”

And that solved the matter of whether to still hand her over to the man who attempted to kill him and his men.

He turned back to the rafts, motioning Douglass and Kai to join him.

Emmaline still stood there. “So what do we do now?”

Peirce pulled one of the rafts to the opposite end of the cavern and pulled the cord. It inflated with a
whoosh
, echoing the sound made by the other raft when Douglass followed suit. “We’re getting the hell out of here,” Peirce explained, dragging the raft toward the water.

“On a boat?”

Peirce looked at the cold, dark water. It was moving slowly here, perfect for putting in. “On a raft.” He gave her a smirk and gestured at the river. “Unless you’d prefer to swim.”

She swallowed but moved closer to the raft. Douglass and Kai were already sliding into the current. Peirce helped Emmaline up over the edge, trying to ignore the way his gut clenched when he again saw the flash of pale undergarments beneath her dark blue skirt. Once she was safely inside, he pushed the raft toward the water, grimacing as his shoulder argued with the movement. Two more steps and he hoisted himself aboard, letting the river’s strong flow whisk them away after Kai and Douglass.

Too bad his shoulder gave out mid-hoist, leaving him in a sprawled heap on top of Emmaline.

She couldn’t breathe. And not just because there was six feet and a couple hundred pounds of hot-blooded male on top of her. His body armour had knocked the air from her lungs and she couldn’t even gasp out the curse that was sitting on the tip of her tongue.

“Ah, hell,” Taggart growled, hauling himself off of her.

Air rushed back, leaving her coughing in relief. But as Taggart tried to settle into the makeshift stern of the raft, she noticed him wincing. “Are you okay?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Fine.”

She sat up, trying to smooth the fabric of her dress. Her fingers brushed through wetness. She tentatively brought her fingers to her nose and drew back at the copper scent of blood. “You’re hurt,” she whispered.

“No.”

She was already moving toward him, keeping low to avoid rocking the raft. “Where?”

He shrugged off her hand as she reached out to touch his shoulder. “Sit down,” he said, but she ignored him.

“Why is your shoulder bleeding?”

Again, he shrugged and she stood in frustration. “Dammit, Mr. Taggart, how badly are you injured?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but a yell from the raft ahead only left him with enough time for a quick glance over his shoulder before he was shoving her down to the bottom of the raft.

She tried to argue but a moment later, the sound of the raft scraping against rock cut off her protests. They had made their way into some kind of tunnel, one where the rocks were crushing down on all sides. The water had picked up speed, so the raft kept moving, but Emmaline couldn’t prevent panic from rising up as she lay there pinned beneath Taggart.

The walls closing in. The darkness. The sensation that her chest was too small for her lungs.

“It’s like Plymouth all over,” she moaned, trying to focus on
anything
but the claustrophobia.

“Wait...Plymouth? That was you?” Taggart shifted slightly on top of her and heat pooled in her belly as she realised his hips were flush with hers. And either that was a gun, or he hadn’t been lying when he claimed she was a distraction.

If his question had had any pity in it, she knew the shame would have come. Instead, for some reason, pressed against him like this, his voice devoid of anything except clinical curiosity, she was actually able to respond, “Yes. That was me.”