Lois Greiman by The Princess, Her Pirate Read Free Book Online

temper, but not so easily as he held her wrist. She was not a strong woman, not even in proportion to her size.
    “Then how will he pay your ransom?” he asked.
    “Ransom?” Her face went absolutely white, and her knees buckled.
    He scooped an arm about her back, pressing her up against his chest and scowling into her eyes.
    “Ransom?” Her voice was weak.
    “For your safe return to London,” he said.
    “Oh, yes.” She nodded and straightened with an obvious effort, but he didn’t let her go, for she felt wonderfully soft against the bare skin of his chest, beautifully right against his belly. “I…” She cleared her throat and tried to move away. He tightened his embrace a mite. “My…family…Will you please…” Her face was no longer pale, but flushed a bonny pink, and her breathing came hard and fast. “Let me go.”
    “But you will not give me what I want.” He realized that what he wanted had just changed. Hoary’s back-alley morals seemed to have taken over. “Therefore, I think I should take what I need.” Leaning forward, he kissed the corner of her mouth and drew slowly back.
    She stared at him for a full second, then, “Do not do that,” she whispered.
    “This?” he asked, and, pressing his mouth to hers, swiped his tongue gently along the crease.
    She pushed against his chest. “Don’t!” she insisted, but he barely noticed, for she’d lost her scarf, and they stood chest to chest. Skin against wounded skin.
    “You don’t like it?” he asked. He might not have Wheaton’s heritage. After all, Lord Wheaton was the old laird’s legitimate nephew, and even though his father and all his immediate family had been exiled for treason, the blood was still true. Still, Cairn was the laird of the isle, and even without that distinction his face had opened a few doors for him, though most of them were back doors to places not meant for nobility.
    “I…” She was breathing hard. “’Tis not right.”
    “But better than the dungeon.”
    “Are you threatening me?”
    “A man might take offense to having his proposition called a threat, Megs.”
    “Proposition?”
    He could feel her ribs against his fingertips, curved and firm and perfect.
    “I admit Teleere’s prisoners might miss your company should you choose to stay here with me.”
    He watched the blood drain from her face, and perhaps a niggle of guilt seeped into his consciousness. Aye, he was threatening her, compromising her. But he was not doing it for his own passion’s sake. Hardly that. He was no ugly ogre she must choose, and if she spent a night or so in his arms, she would surely leave her loyalty to Wheaton behind, bettering her life. Perhaps saving her life.
    “I…” She shook her head. “I cannot,” she said, but she was weakening.
    “Cannot what?” he asked, and bent to kiss her throat. Itwas long and smooth and lovely, framed by her mink-soft hair.
    She caught her breath on a strangely high note.
    He pressed his kisses lower, traveling down the smooth slide of her glossy body. He could feel her heart beat in her chest. Could feel her breasts rise and fall.
    Succulent breasts!
    “Quit!” she ordered, and thumped her palms against his chest.
    Pain shivered through him, and he released her with a grimace. She stumbled out of his embrace, breathing hard.
    Cairn watched her, felt the pain subside and the desire roar back to life.
    “I would not hurt you,” he said. His voice was damnably low, pushed down by the hard edge of his desire.
    “I cannot,” she said.
    “Why?”
    “Why? Surely ’tis obvious, even to you.”
    “Even to me?”
    “It would be wrong.”
    He ground his teeth. “How did Wheaton win such loyalty?”
    “Wheaton again! Are you mad?”
    “Aye. Perhaps. Which do you choose, Megs?” Anger felt hot in his gut. Hotter even than Hoary’s burning interest. He took a step toward her.
    “Leave me be.” She backed away. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
    He laughed as he followed her.