Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,48
expression on her face desperate, angry. “We’re not safe! We’re not safe at all. We’re going to die!”
The dogs kept up their incessant baying overhead, competing with the thunder of tons of water plunging into the lethally deep whirlpool outside. She pressed her hands over her ears, bending over and drawing her knees up to her chest, sobbing.
Seeing her so vulnerable made the unfamiliar sensation travel upward from his chest to his throat, tightening it. For all her bravado, all her toughness, she was still so damned... delicate. Sitting there dripping river water all over the floor, with her hair and gown a soaked mess and tears adding to the wetness on her pale cheeks, she looked fragile, lost.
Alone.
And that, too, was something he had felt before.
“There’s no need to be scared,” he said quietly, not allowing himself to move closer as some impulse urged him to do. “For now, we’re safe.”
“No, we’re not.” She kicked at the chain helplessly, furiously. “I can’t run anymore. I can’t fight anymore. There’s nothing left in me. Don’t you understand? Nothing! I’m not strong enough. I’m sick of running and being shot at and chased and drowned, and I’m sick of these damned shackles, and I’m sick of you. I just want to be safe and I’m never going to be and I’m going to die.”
“No.” Nicholas reached for her, taking her by the shoulders. “No, you’re not,” he told her flatly. “You may be a lot of things, lady, but a quitter isn’t one of them.”
He drew her close, holding her against his chest—and only realized he was doing it a moment later.
But against his better judgment, against all his instincts, he didn’t let her go.
He tightened his arms around her and hung on.
For once, she didn’t fight his touch. She went slack in his embrace, sobbing out all her fear.
“Shhh,” he whispered, letting her cry into his shirt. “You’re going to be all right, Miss Delafield.”
After a moment, he moved his right hand, rubbing it up and down her back. “We’ve thrown the law off our trail. The cave entrance is hidden—we never would’ve seen it ourselves if we hadn’t been right on top of it. And the dogs won’t be able to follow our scent in the water. The lawmen will think we either drowned or were carried downriver. They’ll start looking for us downstream.”
None of this sounded particularly reassuring, even to him, as the dogs continued to bay overhead.
She shook her head, clearly not believing him, shivering in his arms. “We’re not going to get out of this alive, are we?” she whispered tearfully.
“We have so far. We just have to stick together and...”
When he didn’t finish, she raised her head.
He looked down into her eyes, into those golden pools he could so easily drown in. “Trust one another.”
The words came out in a whisper. He could barely believe he’d thought them, much less spoken them aloud.
A second later she seemed to realize—at the same moment he did—that they were locked in an intimate embrace, her breasts pressed against his chest, their bodies radiating warmth, his fingers tangled in her wet hair, their lips an inch apart.
He also realized he was holding her not with sexual intent, but with gentle reassurance. And he had been freely using the word “we” for some time. That wasn’t part of the bargain. He only had to keep her alive. Not comforted, just alive.
But he couldn’t seem to make himself let her go. And an instant later, without thinking, he lowered his mouth toward hers.
She suddenly broke the embrace, lurching backward out of his arms. “Yes... well...” she cleared her throat, hurriedly wiping her damp cheeks. “I suppose you’re right. I... I should be glad we’ve at least confused the law for now.” She brushed at her wet sleeves, as if dusting away some invisible lint. Or ridding herself of his touch.
The law weren’t the only ones confused, Nicholas thought dazedly, shaking not from pain or cold, but from the force of something more powerful that seemed to keep robbing him of his senses.
“And I thought I asked you to keep your hands to yourself,” she added frostily.
He replied with a glower, unable to summon words at the moment. He had liked having her in his arms. Not merely because of the sexual hunger he felt for her, or because of any joy or relief he felt at finding himself still alive. The effect she had on him was more complicated than that.