Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,84
farthings—a treasure chest worthy of a pirate, overflowing with gold and silver. They had taken handfuls, scooping them into his stolen shirt.
A second barrel beside the first had contained the kind of jewelry Sam had imagined—chains and pearls and gems—but she had argued that they shouldn’t take any of it. Each piece was unique, all of it too easy to identify.
But Nick had helped himself to a single jewel. A ruby the size of a small egg.
He held it up now in the moonlight, admiring its delicately cut facets.
“I still say it was a mistake to take that,” Sam said in disapproval, tying off a length of thread. “If anyone happens to check that barrel and notice it missing—”
“We’ll be long gone by then.”
“But we can’t use it to pay the blacksmith. He might recognize it.”
“I have no intention of offering it to him.” He tossed the jewel a few inches into the air and caught it, smiling as if he savored the feel of it in his palm. “This one’s for me, angel. Me and no one else. This little bauble makes up for some of the hell I’ve been through on this trip.” He slipped it into the pocket of his worn, ripped black breeches.
“It was a risk we didn’t have to take,” she said quietly as she put away her sewing supplies.
“Your ladyship, some people are satisfied with moonlight and sunshine.” He sat up, stuffing gold guineas into his coin purse. “And some people prefer shiny things of a different kind.”
“You act as if you’ve never seen money before.”
His head came up sharply and he started to say something... but then he just smiled. “Not for a lot of years,” he said coolly, chuckling. “Not for a whole lot of years.” He patted his pocket. “This little trinket is going to make life at home better than it’s been in a long time.”
He returned his attention to the coins he had been sorting. Sam folded her new skirt and set it aside, questions tumbling through her mind as she watched him. Home? Where is your home? What do you do there? Are you a tradesman? A criminal? A military man? A tavern keeper?
What became of that small boy after he survived the prison hulk?
Who the devil are you?
Even after all they had been through together, all they had shared, she still didn’t know the answer. He had hardly been forthcoming about his past. Or his present. He seemed intent on keeping his secrets.
“Besides,” he concluded flatly. “I’m owed.”
She didn’t ask what he meant by that comment either. Because she suspected he wouldn’t tell her. “How much money do we have? Is there enough?”
“Over five hundred.”
She whistled softly. “I would say that’s enough.”
“Enough to make one blacksmith fat and happy and set two fugitives free.” His eyes met hers. “Within a few hours, your ladyship, we’ll be miles from here.”
“Free to go our separate ways. At last.”
An awkward silence fell, broken only by the clink of the coins he was counting.
Free at last. She should be ecstatic.
So why did the thought make her feel so... wretched?
She pulled up her legs, wrapping her arms around them. Resting her cheek on her knees, she observed him in the scant light. The silvery glow played over his features, made his new white shirt gleam, his black hair seem all the darker. With a gem in his pocket and gold at his fingertips, he looked happier than she had ever seen him, his eyes alight, his smile easy and broad. It seemed he was in his element, somehow. And it made him appear relaxed, confident... undeniably handsome.
Even though she didn’t approve of his reckless little ruby theft, she liked seeing him happy.
A now-familiar warmth unfolded within her, that feeling she had never been able to name. Except that this time it brought an ache as well.
Only a week ago she had been ready to send this man to the gallows to save her own neck. But that was before he had saved her life, comforted her when she thought her whole world without comfort, laughed with her...
Touched her in a way no man ever had.
His tenderness had banished her fears. Taken them away as easily as he had plucked that blood-red gem from the gypsies’ treasure.
Free? She had never truly been free until she was shackled to him.
And the thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again...
He lifted his head—and some of what she felt must have shone in her eyes,