Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) (21 page)

Sabine opened under Colin’s kiss, beckoning him in.

Their tongues danced, a sensual promise of what was to come.

His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her back, around her waist. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

Nor could she get enough of him. She tangled her fingers in his silken gold mane, then let her hands drag across his broad shoulders to the hard plane of his chest. She could feel his heart hammering just below her fingertips. That heart beat for her, she knew with a swell of elation, just as hers beat for him.

His mouth left hers, only to brush kisses along her cheek and down her neck, then back up again until he found her earlobe tucked within her hair. He nipped her there, sending ripples of pleasure through her. When his tongue darted out to lave her earlobe, she shivered in delight.

She tugged his tunic from his belt, eager to feel his warm, taut skin. Her hand slipped under the tunic, and the muscles of his stomach bunched at her touch. She wanted to stroke every inch of him, taste him as he had so erotically tasted her.

Her hand dropped from beneath his tunic and found the thick, hard column of his manhood straining against his breeches.

He sucked in a sharp breath as she cupped him.

“Easy, lass,” he hissed. “Else I’ll spend myself in my breeches before I get this damned dress off ye.”

He yanked urgently at the ties running down her back. When they loosened, he practically ripped the dress down her shoulders.

He froze, his gaze locking on her left shoulder where her shift exposed her skin.

“Did I hurt ye?”

“Nay.” She rolled the shoulder experimentally. She’d regained almost all of her range of motion, and there was no more pain, only a bit of stiffness. Though bruises still marked her shoulder, they’d faded from purple to faint green. “It is almost completely healed.”

“Good, because I dinnae ken if I can be gentle,” he growled.

Another shiver of anticipation rippled through her.

He tugged her dress the rest of the way down her hips and legs until it lay in a limp pile at her feet. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he lifted her out of the pile and set her off to his left away from Ruith.

Working swiftly, he dug his plaid out of his saddlebag and turned back to her. His gaze devoured her like a man half-starved.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he unfurled the plaid, never taking his eyes from her. Then he moved like lightning, closing the distance between them.

His mouth fell on hers once again, his hands peeling away her shift. She pulled at his tunic until he finally broke their kiss just long enough to rip the garment over his head and toss it aside.

Her hands worked his belt as she felt cool air touch her bare breasts. The belt fell away just as Colin bent, flicking his tongue over one nipple.

She gasped, her legs swaying. Colin’s arms came around her, holding her steady as he claimed first one breast and then the other with his hot mouth.

Need pulsed through her like liquid fire, pooling between her legs.

“Now,” she panted. “Please, now.”

He pushed her shift all the way to her feet, then scooped her up, pressing her against the granite wall of his chest.

In two steps, he’d reached the plaid where he’d spread it on the forest floor. He laid her down gently, yet his hands, which clenched her fiercely, belied the urgent need that mirrored her own.

He crouched over her, unfastening his breeches. When he pushed the garment down his lean hips, his cock sprang free, jutting long and hard from his body.

She stared at him, enthralled by the raw masculinity of his form. Where he was hard, she was soft. Where she was slim, his muscles stacked thickly.

He must have seen the captivation in her eyes, for he growled low and wordless, then moved over her.

To her surprise, though, he dropped to the plaid next to her on his back, then wrapped his hands around her hips and lifted her on top of him.

Knees straddling his hips, she braced her hands on his chest, a question forming on her lips.

“
Bloody hell
,” he hissed. His gaze roved over her, his fingers digging into her hips as he ground against her.

The question fled her mind as she realized what he intended. She felt exposed, straddling him as his eyes singed every inch of her flesh, but she also felt wanted, needed, treasured like never before.

One of his hands found her breast, stroking and teasing. She moved restlessly against him, looking for relief from the sweet torture of his touch.

“Aye, that’s it,” he rasped, moving his hips with hers.

His cock was wedged between them, pinned to his stomach by the folds of her womanhood.

She moved again, rubbing that perfect spot against the hard column of his cock.

His groan mingled with hers at that.

His cock slid between the damp folds of her womanhood, sending frissons of pleasure through her at the fuller contact.

“I cannae take any more,” Colin ground out through clenched teeth.

He lifted her hips slightly, taking his cock in hand and guiding it to her entrance. But then he returned his hands to her hips, waiting with a strained look on his face.

Sabine felt a thrill rush through her. Colin was barely holding onto his control, letting her take him in.

She eased down slowly, gasping as he filled her. Colin panted, but his hands remained light on her hips.

Sabine’s head fell back as she took him all the way in. She teetered on the line between pain and pleasure as he stretched her with his invasion.

But when his thumb dropped and he found that nub of pure ecstasy, she tumbled headlong into pleasure’s grasp.

Instinctually, her hips began to move, rolling against him.

“Aye,” he panted, meeting her rhythm with his thrusts.

His other hand left her hip and found her breast once more. His touch sent her careening upward toward the heights of rapture. Pleasure coiled tight within her, then suddenly sprung as her release crashed over her.

Colin’s hands clamped onto her hips as he drove up into her hard. He shuddered, his voice echoing her cry of ecstasy as he came undone after her.

Sabine wilted onto his chest, her breathing ragged as she drifted down from the heavens.

“I love ye,” he panted, his arms enfolding her.

“I love you, too.”

They lay like that, bodies spent and limbs tangling in his plaid on the forest floor, until the sky dimmed and the air turned faintly blue with evening.

At last, he stirred beneath her.

“Ye’d best get dressed before it grows cool.”

Regretfully, she lifted her head and met his gaze. “Aye, I suppose so.”

In silence, they rose and retrieved their discarded clothes.

As Sabine tightened the ties on her gown, fear stabbed her belly. What if Colin would grow cold again now that they’d returned from the luscious haze of pleasure and had to face reality once more?

As she turned toward Ruith, Colin caught her arm gently. He moved in front of her, locking his gaze on her.

“Dinnae fear, lass,” he said. He must have been able to read her apprehension in her eyes. “I’ll no’ retreat again—ever. We’ll find a way through this, I vow it.”

Hope pushed back the uncertainty in her heart. “Thank you for that.”

He dipped his head, brushing a tender kiss to her lips.

“Fabian would be so disappointed in you, Sabine.”

Sabine whipped her head toward the familiar voice.

Miles stood a few dozen paces away, flanked by ten enormous men.

Sabine’s scream died in her throat as the men lunged toward them.

It was like a nightmare that wouldn’t stop replaying before Colin’s eyes.

Miles’s men surged forward, just as before.

Except this time, there were ten of them rather than two.

Colin threw himself toward Ruith, where his sword protruded from one of the saddlebags. He yanked the sword free of its scabbard and bolted in front of Sabine just as a blade descended toward her head.

He caught the blade with his own, fighting against his opponent’s strength. With a mighty push, he threw the sword back just in time to block another attack.

Sabine stumbled out of the way just in time as Colin spun and landed a deadly blow to his attacker’s stomach.

Hot pain burned across his upper arm as a sword sliced through his skin. He pivoted and avoided the far more lethal thrust of another blade.

He dispatched a second man with a swipe of his sword across the man’s exposed throat.

There were too many of them, though. The remaining eight warriors formed a circle around Colin, closing in slowly.

Battle lust roaring in his ears, Colin steeled himself for the next strike.

But just then Sabine’s scream tore through the forest, high and terrified.

The circling warriors melted away as his vision honed in on her. She was on the ground near Ruith, attempting to scramble away from Miles, who loomed over her.

Miles’s hand darted out, latching onto her hair. He dragged her to her feet, drawing another cry of pain and fear from her.

“Nay!” Colin bellowed. He lunged forward, only to feel the sharp slash of a blade across his thigh, forcing him to halt.

Miles dragged Sabine against him despite her wild attempts to escape his hold. Reaching down, Miles unsheathed a dagger from his boot and pressed the edge of the blade to Sabine’s throat.

Sabine stilled, her eyes rounded with terror.

“It was nice knowing you, girl,” Miles murmured softly.

Time seemed to slow as Miles began to draw his hand across her neck. In the blue twilight, a dark, thin ribbon of blood blossomed underneath the dagger as the blade bit into her throat.

“Nay!” Colin roared again.

He was too far away. He couldn’t save her. He’d failed.

He hardly noticed the blade arching through the darkening sky toward his own neck.

“Wait!”

Sabine’s high, shrill cry tore through the forest.

Miles’s hand stilled in its progress. At Miles’s hesitation, the blade angling to separate Colin’s head from his shoulders also froze mid-air.

Miles stood motionless for a long moment. At last, he lifted the dagger an inch from Sabine’s throat.

“I have naught against you, girl,” he said flatly. “You always completed your assignments and never caused me trouble. I suppose I can grant you a few last words before you die.”

Sabine’s eyes were so wide that Colin could see white all around them in the dim light. Her gaze darted to him, her breath coming in short gasps.

“I…I have information that Fabian will want to hear before he kills us.”

Colin’s stomach fell to his feet even as his heart ripped in two.

“Sabine! Nay, dinnae—”

“He will be most pleased with what I have to say,” she went on, her gaze still locked on Colin even as she spoke to Miles. “But if you kill us now, he’ll never learn about the contents of the missive I intercepted.”

Miles considered in silence. But then he brought the dagger’s edge to Sabine’s throat once again.

“It was from Robert the Bruce!” Sabine blurted.

Miles froze again, and Colin could see his dark brows lift in surprise.

“I intercepted the
real
missive from the King of Scotland, not the dupe he sent to throw us off the true mark,” Sabine rushed on.

“Fabian wanted both you and the man dead,” Miles said slowly. “But he may prefer to hear what you have to say before he has your throats slit.” He shrugged his thick shoulders as if he’d come to a decision. “He can do what he wishes with you once I’ve delivered you, so I suppose it makes no difference.”

Miles removed the dagger from her neck and slid it back into his boot.

“Sabine,” Colin breathed, disbelief rending his heart. “How could ye?”

Her lips moved, but no sound came out. He squinted through the dusky twilight, focusing on her mouth.

Please
, she mouthed,
trust me
.

Colin felt more than saw one of the warriors rise up behind him. Something blunt made impact at the base of his skull, and the whole world went black.

Sabine squinted at the unassuming cottage as Miles reined his horse to a halt. Though it was dark, she could see that it was little more than a hovel, completely isolated in this small clearing in the woods.

They’d ridden hard all through last night and today. The sun had set several hours ago, but when it had been up, she’d used it to gauge their direction. Miles had taken them east, but then turned south midday. If they hadn’t crossed the border with England already, they were close.

Sabine sniffed the air. Over the scents of pine, mud, and decaying plant life, she smelled the sharp tang of brine. They must be near the sea. If she had to guess, she’d say they were a few hours’ ride northwest of Carlisle.

“What is this place?” she demanded as Miles dismounted stiffly.

Miles remained silent as he unbound her wrists from the pommel on her saddle. She’d been given the horse of one of the two men Colin had killed.

He pulled her down from the horse’s back, then motioned for two of his men to fetch Colin.

Colin lay draped face-down over the second dead man’s horse. As the hours of hard riding had slipped by, Sabine had grown increasingly worried that he might never wake.

When the two men took his arms and dragged him down, he stirred ever so slightly.

Sabine exhaled and murmured a prayer of thanks. He wasn’t dead, though he seemed close enough. She needed him to come to his senses, for the sketch of a plan she’d formed over the last day would never succeed if he didn’t have his wits about him.

“Continue on to Carlisle,” Miles snapped at three of the other warriors.

The men nodded and spurred their horses east. That confirmed Sabine’s suspicions about their present location, but she still didn’t know why they were here. Was this a safe house of some sort? A waiting spot?

Miles limped back to his horse. He untied Ruith’s reins, which he’d wrapped around his own horse’s saddle, then awkwardly hobbled toward another of the men.

“See to the horses,” Miles said, thrusting Ruith’s reins at the man. “And take special care with this one.”

Ruith nickered and sidestepped, and the warrior had to jerk hard on the reins to gain control of the stallion.

“Are you sure you want that one, Miles?” one of the men holding Colin asked. A few of the men chuckled low.

Sabine hadn’t noticed it when Miles and his small army of warriors had first attacked, but over the last day, she realized that he limped badly and one of his arms seemed almost useless. He also bore a bruise on the side of his head, which disappeared into his dark hair.

Apparently, he hadn’t come away from the fall from his horse as unscathed as it had seemed at first—the fall she and Ruith had partially caused.

“He is mine,” Miles growled. “I claimed him. He just needs to be broken to me.”

As one of the warriors gathered the horses and led them to a small barn just off the cottage, Miles motioned the others forward. He wrapped a tight hand around Sabine’s arm, though she didn’t fight against him.

Just then, the cottage’s door swung open and soft candlelight spilled out. A figure stepping into the doorframe, illuminated from behind.

“Is it done?”

A chill raced down Sabine’s spine at the voice.

Fabian
.

He must have changed locations again, for she’d never seen this cottage or this patch of uninhabited forest before.

“Nay, milord, but I can—”

“What is this?” Fabian snarled as Miles pulled her into the pool of candlelight around the door.

“The girl says she has something to tell you,” Miles went on evenly.

“What could she possibly—”

“I read a missive from Robert the Bruce,” Sabine said, willing her voice to remain steady. “The one you sent me after in the first place. Although the King’s messenger bore a dummy missive, the messenger’s bodyguard carried the real one.”

Fabian’s gaze sharpened on her for a moment, then turned to Miles.

“Why did you bring me the man alive? I thought I made myself clear.”

“And I made myself clear to Miles,” Sabine cut in before Miles could respond. “I told him that we were both to remain alive until you’ve heard what I have to say, or else I don’t talk.”

“I’ll gladly kill both of them now if you aren’t interested in the girl’s message, milord,” Miles said flatly. “I just thought that you’d want to have…options.”

Fabian’s hand rose to his meticulously manicured goatee as he considered.

“Bring them in,” he said at last with an annoyed wave. He turned and strode into the cottage without waiting for them to follow.

Sabine breathed a silent sigh of relief. Buying more time in front of Fabian was only the first step, however.

As Miles pulled her into the cottage, she craned her neck over her shoulder.

“Colin,” she said sharply. “Colin, wake up.”

He groaned as he tried to lift his drooping head. The men carrying him by the shoulders were none too gentle. She would have cursed them for dragging him so roughly into the cottage, but it seemed to rouse him from his stupor a bit more.

Miles continued to pull her toward the back of the cottage. Inside, a fire blazed in a small hearth and a few candles sat on a simple wooden table. There was a cot in one corner, but little else. The accommodations were surprisingly humble, considering how much Fabian enjoyed surrounding himself with finer things.

Miles led her to the back of the cottage. She realized belatedly that there was a single door in the wall, leading to an attached chamber she hadn’t noticed from the front of the hovel.

As Miles tugged her into the small chamber, he turned and spoke over his shoulder.

“Wait out here,” he said to the remaining two warriors who weren’t carrying Colin. They nodded silently and took up position on either side of the door.

Miles moved her aside so that the two men who held Colin could drag him into the chamber as well, then booted the door closed behind them.

Only after she assured herself that Colin had opened his eyes and was beginning to get his feet under him did she allow herself to look around.

Like the cottage’s front room, this one was small and humble. There were no windows, and the low thatched roofing, which most of the men’s heads nearly brushed against, made it feel even smaller.

The only distinguishing feature of the room was the large wooden desk on the back wall. It was completely covered with stacks and piles of parchment, just as Fabian always kept his work space. Two candles were perched in holders on the front corners of the desk, casting flickering light over the otherwise bare room.

“I see you have taken a step down in the world,” Sabine said to Fabian’s back as he strode toward the desk.

His shoulders stiffened. Then slowly, he pivoted on his heels. His face was smooth as he walked toward her.

Without preamble, he slapped her hard on the cheek.

“The only reason your tongue can still waggle, you little bitch, is because you have piqued my curiosity,” he said calmly.

“No longer pretending to care about me, then?” She turned her head back to him, holding his stare defiantly. She knew the truth now. He’d used her, manipulated her, but she would never be afraid of Fabian again.

A slow, cruel smile twisted his lips behind his goatee.

“Oh Sabine. You are most entertaining—far more so now than you were as a sniveling, scraping little urchin who wanted naught more than to please me.”

Sabine clenched her teeth to keep from flinching at his words. She had to remain strong, to stay focused and not let the pain of Fabian’s cruel disregard blind her.

“But you were far easier to control, then,” he went on, turning his back on her and ambling toward the desk once more.

“We found this on her, milord,” Miles said, releasing her to step forward. He pulled Sabine’s dagger from his belt and tossed it on the desk.

Fabian snorted as he glanced at the dagger. “You always were a sentimental one, keeping everything I ever gave you.” His gaze slid over her. “You even still wear that necklace.”

The ring Fabian had presented to her after her first mission felt as though it burned her skin where it hung on its chain. Sabine wouldn’t bother telling him that she still wore it to remind herself of where she came from and who she used to be—someone she’d never be again. Let him think what he would.

“But enough of this,” he said, all the amusement dropping from his voice. “Tell me what the missive contained.”

“I have conditions,” Sabine shot back.

Fabian smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach his dark eyes. “And what would those be?”

“Let Colin and me walk away unharmed.”

Fabian actually laughed.

“Christ, Sabine, I knew you were naïve, but I never thought you a dolt.”

Her fists clenched with rage at her sides, but she kept her voice steady. “We will not make trouble or speak a word to anyone. You will never hear of or see us again. In exchange for our lives, you may have the information in Robert the Bruce’s missive.”

“Sabine.”

Her gaze snapped to Colin as he rasped her name. Though the two men still held his arms, he bore his weight on his own feet. His head was steady, but his blue eyes were clouded with disbelief and apprehension as his gaze searched her.

In the short glance she could spare him, she tried to convey her plan through her eyes. Fearing raising Fabian’s suspicion, though, she returned her attention back to him.

Fabian perched on the desk, stroking his goatee. “Your lover doesn’t seem willing to agree to your terms.”

“He will, for he doesn’t want to see me dead.”

“Bold little slut,” Fabian said, his lips drawing back in a half-smile, half-sneer. “You fucked him, didn’t you? What a waste of the perfectly good bargaining chip your virginity would have been.”

Rage, pure and clarifying, burned through her. Yet somehow she wasn’t surprised. Even Fabian’s supposed protectiveness of her innocence had actually been for his own gain.

“You have my offer,” she said, holding his stare.

Fabian turned to his desk and fiddled with one of the pieces of parchment stacked there for a long moment.

“Very well,” he said at last, turning his smile back on her. “Your lives for the contents of the missive—on the condition that if I discover you have broken your end of the bargain, I will kill you both in a most unpleasant and drawn-out way.”

Colin suddenly surged against the men holding him. He bared his teeth, rage flashing in his eyes.

Good
. He was regaining his wits, as well as his strength. But he would need more time.

“Agreed,” Sabine said. “But answer a question for me first, as I am sure this will be the last time I ever see you.”

Fabian spread his arms out magnanimously. “Ask away.”

Sabine swallowed, forcing down the lump in her throat. “Before you sent Miles to kill me, I had been naught but loyal to you. I would have done aught for you. Why were you so quick to be rid of me without even giving me a chance to prove my loyalty?”

Fabian shrugged, his eyes gleaming. “You always were a tad too sentimental. It was a good trait for molding you into what I wanted, but I wonder if over time it would have proven problematic.” He waved a dismissive hand. “But that is neither here nor there. You have always viewed me as a father, have you not?”

Unable to speak, Sabine simply nodded.

Fabian repressed a smile. “Just as I wished. But you never understood the true nature of our work, dear, sweet Sabine. Oh, aye, you learned to deceive well enough. Men have always enjoyed your little fallen dove routine. But you never saw this for what it is.”

“And what is it?” she breathed.

“A business. Not a family. Loyalty and caring have no place here. All that matters is the work.” He cast a hand over the stacks of assorted slips of parchment. “When someone is good at the business, they may stay. If they fail, or become a liability, or compromise the business in any way—well, then they must be eliminated.”

“Aye, I suppose I never understood that,” Sabine said, her voice tight.

Fabian’s smile widened. “You’ve already proven that.” He flicked a hand toward her neck. “The fact that you’re wearing that necklace, for example. Would you like to give it back to me? Mayhap throw it at me to be dramatic? You’d save me from having to make another one. Having them matched to the one I wear can be very time consuming. You see, I always give my newest recruits a copy of this ring and tell them they are special, just as I told you.”

The taunting in his voice made sickness rise to the back of her throat. Even hating him for all he’d done, his words cut with fresh pain. She’d never been special to him. He’d never cared about her. She was only a tool to him—a tool he’d warped to his own devices, leaving her close to broken.

But not completely broken.

She watched Colin out of the corner of her eye. He was alert now, his body straining with barely contained fury.