Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,38

her arms under her breasts, her hands clenched into fists. “But I’m living proof that being well-born doesn’t guarantee anything.”

“So why turn to theft? I thought you were a seamstress.” He avoided glancing at the pendant that rested between her breasts.

“There aren’t any positions available these days, except among the aristocracy in London, and I... had to leave London,” she said cautiously. “Rather suddenly. Several years ago. I won’t go back.”

Standing there in the flickering candlelight, chin raised, she looked determined, defiant. And impossibly small and vulnerable. He thought her too trusting for telling him so much. For telling him anything.

And he urged her to tell him more. “There had to be safer ways to earn a living.”

“You mean as a governess or servant? One needs references for that.” She shook her head. “I didn’t set out to become a thief. I didn’t choose this life.”

She turned away abruptly only to be brought up short by the chain. If she had thought to flee, it was futile. She couldn’t even take another step unless he moved.

And he didn’t move. He still leaned against the wall, waiting.

Beneath that cascade of tawny hair, her shoulders rose and fell rapidly. After a moment, she lowered her head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t... have anything. Not even a shilling. I tried to find work. I tried.” Her arms tightened around her waist, her voice falling to a whisper. “And I was so hungry.”

Nicholas couldn’t say a word. The strangest, most unfamiliar feeling crept through his chest and he couldn’t do anything but stare at her straight, stiff back.

He’d felt that same hunger and fear, as a boy.

“Then one day I stole some food from a vendor’s cart. It wasn’t much. An apple and a small loaf of bread. I ate it all in a few bites.” She shook her head. “But I was so scared, I threw up.”

A small sound escaped her, too harsh to be a laugh. She paused for a long moment.

Then she continued, with an almost eerie calm. “The second time, it became a little easier. And the third time... and the fourth.” She turned to face him again, the defiance returning to her expression. “Because it felt good not to be hungry. It felt good. That’s how I became a thief.” Her fists were still clenched. “And there’s something else. I learned a long time ago that there are two kinds of people in this world—predators and prey.” She looked straight into his eyes. “I was the latter once. I won’t be again. Ever.”

It sounded like a warning. That he was facing not prey, but a fellow predator.

The threat cooled the warm sensation in his chest. “When you first found yourself in trouble, why didn’t you choose the most obvious means of support?” he asked sarcastically.

She shook her head, not understanding.

“The one most women choose. Marriage.”

She laughed, but again the sound held no humor. “I didn’t receive any offers of that sort. Plenty of less savory offers, but no honorable ones. Men from the circles I grew up in wouldn’t think of marrying a woman like me.”

That surprised him more than anything else she had said. “And what sort of woman are you?” He echoed the question she had asked earlier.

Her cheeks reddened, whether with suppressed anger or something else he couldn’t tell. “Tired,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion. “I’m a tired woman. And it’s late and all I want to do is go to sleep.”

He stared at her a moment longer, then nodded, sensing he wouldn’t learn anything more tonight. The full weight of his own fatigue pressed down on him stronger than ever. “We’ll leave at daybreak.”

He turned and led the way back to the table, where he corked the bottle. Bending down, he tucked it into the pack of provisions he had secured earlier. He had taken one of the fishing creels and loaded it with foodstuffs and a few useful items scrounged from the cabin’s shelves. A length of rope woven through the top and bottom of the creel would allow him to carry it on his back, while leaving his hands free. He checked the sheepshank knots he had secured it with.

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, meeting his gaze as he rose. “You haven’t just been running through the woods randomly. You’re going in a specific direction. Where?”

“You have a pressing appointment?”

“I just want to get to my room in—” She cut herself off, her eyes narrowing warily. “I