Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,89

stars fading with the moon, and still they did not stir. Nicholas reclined against a tree, one knee raised, Samantha dozing in his arms. Neither of them spoke, both reluctant to break the peace. The two of them had spent so long in battle—with each other, with the world—that peace felt rare and special.

She lay naked against him, her arm draped across his midsection, holding him as tightly as he held her. He had fastened his breeches again but her fingers lazily traced along the waistband, her passion-bruised lips curved upward in a smile that it seemed nothing could erase.

She managed to look thoroughly wanton and utterly angelic at the same time. So sweet in his embrace, so trusting. His heart couldn’t seem to slow down.

You matter to me.

The words she has spoken earlier kept running through his mind. It had been a very long time since he had mattered to a woman. To anyone.

Longer still since anyone had mattered to him.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this... important to him. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep denying it.

You matter to me, too, angel.

He shut his eyes, unable to say it, the confusing feelings knotted together in his chest, the words choked up in his throat.

Then he became aware of moisture sliding down his ribs... from tears on her cheeks.

“Samantha?” he asked softly, hearing the concern in his own voice as he reached down and tilted her head up. “Oh, hell, I—”

“No. No, it’s not that. You didn’t hurt me,” she assured him. “I’m not crying because of that. It’s because I...” She hid her face against his chest. “You’ve given me such... you make me feel...” Her voice became a whisper. “Nick, I can’t even put it into words.”

Her gentle admission made an ache unfurl through him. She filled a place inside him that had been dark and empty for a very long time. Filled it with warmth and light and... life.

“Even with a shackle around my ankle and lawmen on our trail,” she said with a little laugh, tracing lazy patterns along his chest with one finger. “I’m happy. For the first time in years... I’m happy.”

He tightened his arms around her. He could almost feel her happiness seeping into him. It was a completely new experience. One of many he’d had in the last few days.

Never, in all his innumerable liaisons, had he ever made a woman happy. He’d made love to them, made light of them, even made room for them on his ship now and then... but mostly he had made them miserable.

But Samantha was different. Unlike any woman he’d ever met. Her courage, her cleverness, and her impetuous enthusiasm for life all captivated him as much as her beauty. And her innocence and gentle heart affected him in ways he had never imagined possible.

Made him yearn for all the things he had denied himself these past six years, he thought with a painful tightness in his throat. Warmth, kindness. Caring. Things he had thought he didn’t need to survive.

Samantha made him see—as if a blindfold had been ripped from his eyes—that he’d been living only half a life. That in every way that mattered, he had died in that fiery wreck six years ago.

And he realized as he held her that he didn’t want to let her go, not tonight... and not tomorrow.

He didn’t want to send her off to Venice, where she would no doubt attract suitors by the gondola load. She might think she’d enjoy an independent life there, but with her beauty and charm, she wouldn’t be alone for long. Some rich baron or count would snap her up.

Just like he had snapped up the gypsies’ ruby.

He frowned as he imagined the Italian signori prowling around her villa, each man intent on making her his own, maybe making her his wife—

He cut that thought short as a surge of possessiveness shot through him. The image of Samantha with another man, lying in the brocade-draped bed of some Italian count...

“Nick?”

“Sorry.” He had to consciously relax his hold on her, realizing he was squeezing too tight.

Possessiveness was yet another new experience. He had never been possessive with a woman before. He cherished his own freedom too much to interfere with anyone else’s. He had never expected or demanded exclusive relationships with his mistresses.

But now he found himself entertaining reckless ideas: ideas of taking Samantha with him.

Keeping her with him.

“Nick?” she asked hesitantly. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to...