A Kiss in the Wind by Jennifer Bray-Weber Read Free Book Online

wielding a small knife, coming close to stabbing him in his stomach. He hopped to the side and grabbed her wrist. The momentum of her rushing forward coupled with him forcibly wrenching her arm upward twisted her body into what had to be a painful contortion. She landed on her back onto the powdery floor, yelping as he still held her arm up. His boot to her shoulder kept her from squirming and hurting herself further.
    That was the point of rash stupidity. Blade shouldn’t have been surprised by her trickery. He had watched her carefully in the alehouse as she wormed her way around the aggressive sot. He knew then the lass could take care of herself. He had found it refreshing and attractive. However, he now retracted those earlier impressions and replaced them with one of annoyance.
    Blade recognized the fire in her eyes, seen on many faces of the brave before they met their fate by his hand. It burned with the light of intrepid spirit. Blade considered the felled warrior’s demise as honorable. Any life he had taken that fought with courage was a life well deserved. Anything less seemed such a waste. Maybe he shouldn’t be hasty about her will to survive.
    “I wish you hadn’t done that.” He brought her to stand again and plucked the knife from her. Sam and Lansky stood by with their drawn pistols. Blade tossed the knife to Sam, who tucked it under his waistband.
    “I do, too,” Marisol replied. “I should’ve waited for a better chance.”
    This time Blade chuckled, shaking his head at her brass. “You give me no choice but to go ahead with searching you. Do take into account you will be shot should you try another half-witted attempt to flee.”
    “Understood.” She dismissed the gravity of her predicament with her nonchalant demeanor.
    “Fair warning, lass, my search will be thorough.” He smiled, adding, “And you may very well enjoy it.” But not as much as he.
    She stiffened under his touch as he placed both hands on her hips and rubbed upward along her close-fitting bodice to under her arms. She sucked in her breath when he slid his thumbs along the underside of her breasts, cupping them. Their shape was perfect, filling his hands nicely. The seams of his trousers strained under her subtle response. How many times had a woman held her breath while he caressed her in such a manner? The simple action had never gone unnoticed. He thrived on every movement, every minute reception, every sigh and every quiver a woman gave him under his touch.
    “I once knew of a lady who hid a valuable medallion between her breasts.” He drew his eyes up to meet her stare. They flickered, but not with fear. Nay, there was something else lying in those eyes, something less lucid. “I can’t risk not being sure.” Satisfied she hid nothing there, he lingered before he continued on lower. Her bodice concealed nothing, nothing but naked flesh underneath.
    Damn, he needed to stop thinking of her that way. He reminded himself that she stole his cameo. Focusing on that should keep him from wanting to throw her on the table and roll around kneading some dough of their own.
    He patted down her skirt. Feeling something round, he smiled at Marisol, confident of his find. He reached in her pocket and pulled out a folded paper and a silver piece. Holding up the coin, a heartbeat passed. This wasn’t his cameo. “What the hell is this?” he asked. Where the hell was his cameo? Panic surged, crashing through him with the thought of never holding his cameo again, of never rubbing his fingers over the raised relief or the smooth shell underside. Without his cameo, without its unrelenting, unforgiving memories, he would go mad.
    A hatred for the woman standing before him snagged him like rusted trolling hooks. He clenched the coin tight and shook his fist at her, startled by his building ire. He had never had such a feeling over a woman. No, he adored women. Women of all kinds, all shapes and sizes. He loved their smiles, their