Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,74
his arms while all the hurt flowed out of her. “Shh, angel, it’s going to be all right,” he murmured. “You’re going to be all right.”
It was little wonder that she feared a man’s touch.
The truly astonishing fact was that a lady who had endured so much at such a tender age could still believe in things like faith and goodness and human caring.
Could still feel grateful for something so simple as moonlight and a summer wind.
He closed his eyes, grimacing ruefully. Unfortunately for her, she was still too naive, in too many ways. She thought she knew the way of the world, when in truth she knew nothing. Her trust, her faith left her vulnerable to mankind’s cruelty.
While her fear, her misplaced anxiety, denied her one of mankind’s few genuine pleasures.
After a while, her crying ebbed slowly to silence. Gently catching her chin on the edge of his hand, Nicholas tilted her head up. He cupped her face in his palms and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, drying her tears, all the while inwardly cursing himself.
He had been telling himself from the start that he didn’t care about this lady thief.
But she had come to mean something to him.
Which was impossible. He had no time for a liaison of any sort. They had no future. Not a week, not a day, not even an hour beyond the moment he got the shackles off. He had a job to do, an enemy to kill, and she was a complication he didn’t need.
But though they couldn’t share a future, he could share with her one precious gift, now, tonight. Much as she had given to him in the cave, with her soft voice, her gentle touch, bringing him warmth, light, life, he could now give to her.
What had been stolen from her by her bastard uncle could be returned.
By one wayward ex-pirate. For once, perhaps Nicholas Brogan could put someone else’s needs ahead of his own.
Give without taking.
Experience for himself what simple human caring felt like.
“Samantha,” he asked softly, “are you still afraid of me?”
Her lower lip quivered. “A little.”
He smiled at the open honesty he had come to expect from her. “Do you trust me, at least a little?”
“Yes.”
That made his smile broaden. “What happens between a man and a woman... angel, what you’ve learned about it is all wrong. It isn’t supposed to be about force and pain and hurting someone.”
She looked dubious, uncertain.
“You’ve been made afraid of something that’s a natural, vital part of every man... and every woman.” He stroked his fingers along her jawline. “It’s supposed to be about pleasure. Especially for the woman.”
That made her look downright skeptical.
“When it’s good, when it’s right, it’s the greatest feeling a man and woman can share.” He brushed his thumb over her mouth. “Let me show you, angel.” He phrased it as a question, a gentle entreaty. “Let me show you.”
Chapter 16
Sam couldn’t summon a reply, couldn’t even catch her breath. Gazing into his eyes, warmed by his touch, she felt as if she had been swept up into the night sky, spinning among white-hot stars.
Everything seemed to be whirling around her, changing so quickly, leaving her scrambling for something solid to hold on to. But all she could find within herself were new, undefined feelings, too tentative, too fragile for her to depend upon.
Feelings for this man. For a stranger who now knew all of her secrets.
But he wasn’t a stranger anymore.
Nick.
She had shared with him memories and pain that she had never shared with anyone. And as he held her so carefully, his broad hands cupping her face so lightly, she chastised herself for being ten kinds of a fool. How could she have told him everything? Why had she trusted him?
She had every reason to feel wary of this man. Any sensible woman would. He was an outlaw. A rogue who knew too little of kindness, too much of fighting and recklessness and the hard edges of life. Sitting so close beside him, feeling the heat of his body against hers, she felt an uncomfortable shift in the rhythm of her heartbeat.
The hard, muscular planes of his body, his numerous scars, the pitchfork brand all bespoke a life of harshness and danger. He seemed to be made entirely of steel, corded lengths of steel wrapped around iron. As hard and unyielding as the chain that bound the two of them together. A man crafted from and for violence.