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EXCERPT
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Sara
Anne tried to remain calm, but there was something about the
man walking beside her that utterly shook her composure. He
possessed the finest features she had ever seen on a man.
Between his deep brown eyes and the longest, darkest lashes
she had ever seen, he would have been almost pretty, except
for a strong jaw line, a small cleft in his chin and the aura
of maleness that emanated from his every pore. His clothes
were ragged and his thick brown hair desperately needed to
be cut, but it wasn’t his appearance that was so disconcerting;
it was the way he looked at her. It was as if he could see
through her ruse. It was as if he knew her.
When they were nearly to the barn, he uttered a curt, “I’ll
take her.”
The man who had been escorting her grunted something indiscernible
and allowed her to be led away by this new man. The beautiful
man then guided her to the cover of trees between the barn
and the lean-to. The rain was light but steady and she was
getting wet through and through despite the cover of trees.
Then again, so was he, although it didn’t appear to
faze him.
He took hold of her hand and brought it close to his face
to inspect it, nodding as if he had confirmed something to
himself. “That was quite a tale ye came up wi’
back there,” he accused quietly.
She looked away from him because the last thing in the world
she wanted to do was to gawk at his incredibly handsome face.
Fine looking or not, he was the enemy, as much as Aaron Waldrup—as
much as her father. “I don’t know what you mean,
sir.”
He moved suddenly, taking her chin in hand and forcing her
to look at him. “Consider this a warnin’ ane a
service, lass. It’s only money we’re after. No
one has tae get hert; no one should ane no one will unless
ye get foolish.”
Her breath caught and she felt her shoulders quiver. “Only
money,” she repeated. She hated money! It poisoned men.
“Was it worth selling your honor for?”
He jerked back as if he’d been struck, letting go of
her. “What would ye know of honor?” he asked quietly,
his brown eyes lit from an inner passion that burned deep
within.
“Oh, it is recognizable,” she replied quickly.
“If anyone comes around who possesses it while you’re
in my presence, I’ll be sure to point it out.”
Furious, he grabbed her arms and gave her a shake. “Yer
goin’ tae tell me who ye are ane who yer family is or
I’m goin’ to march ye back ane tell them ye lied.”
She felt confusion and alarm. She had infuriated him, somehow.
By questioning his honor.
He let go of her. “All tae prevent a little money from
goin’ from yer wealthy family—”
It was unbelievable. He was disgusted with her! “I am
from America,” she defended herself. “And I do
not come from the wealth you imagine.”
“Ye dinna ken what I imagine.”
His intensity rattled her composure. “It is too far
to send for ransom,” she reasoned. It was absurd, this
desire for him to believe her. It was because he was handsome,
which was childish, girlish and stupid. It was not like her
at all. She was not Glennis flirting shamelessly with John
Michael.
“I want the truth,” he demanded, coming at her
again.
She withdrew a step. “You want the truth? Fine! My father
would never pay,” she admitted in a hoarse voice, blushing
from the shame of it.
The raw pain in her was undeniable and it must have resonated
with him. “They’ll use ye in some other way,”
he warned. “They won’t let ye go, if that’s
wha’ yer thinkin’.”
She seemed to shrink within herself. She hadn’t considered
what else they might do with her, nor had she considered that
his warning was actually and truly a service to her.
“It’s not too late,” he said softly. “Tell
me who ye are ane ye’ll get back where ye came from.
I swear it on my life.”
As inconceivable as it was, she did believe him. She thought
about it but an image of Aaron in a cold rage suddenly filled
her mind and she shivered, horrified at the thought of going
back to him.
“Yer name?” he pressed.
For a terrible instant, her mind went blank. Then, “Hope,”
she stammered.
It had come a split second too late and his instincts were
too good to not recognize she was not being truthful. “It’s
all a lie,” he accused. “Everythin yev said.”
She felt a flush of shame at being caught in a lie and then
a flush of anger. After all, she was the victim; he was the
aggressor.
He shook his head, disgusted with himself. “Understand
this, Hope, someone will come up wi’ some money for
ye. By no bein’ honest wi’ us, yer makin’
a choice. We only wanted money but it seems yer prepared tae
give flesh ane blood instead.”
She felt a tremor of fear, but tried to control her breathing
and pretend she hadn’t been shaken by his words. “You
and your friends planned on us all being from wealthy, English
families,” she said in a tremulous, breathy voice, one
that gave away her nerves. “I’m not and you detest
the fact you made a mistake,” she challenged.
“Oh, yer from a wealthy family. Deny that.”
She started to, but then refrained. His expression was too
intense, and, again, she had that feeling that he somehow
knew her.
“I could take ye back there,” he jerked his thumb
toward the lean-to. “They would be happy tae beat the
truth out of ye. Ye may be stubborn, but ye’d talk.
Eventually.”
Angered by the bullying tactic, she looked him straight in
the eye and did not flinch. She was trembling, which could
not be helped, but she did not and would not flinch, nor would
she tell them the truth. Whatever beating they would subject
her to, it would be nothing in comparison to what she’d
receive in the custody of her father and Aaron Waldrup.
“So,” he muttered. “It’s not just
stubbornness. What is it?”
She looked away, feeling the foolish inclination to cry. He
was too close to the truth. It felt as if he was reading her
mind.
“Look at me,” he said.
She drew in a shaky breath and looked into his deep brown
eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.
Why did he feel like someone she could trust? He was one of
them. He was the enemy.
“Yer makin’ a foolish choice,” he said angrily,
fixing her with a hard stare.
“It’s my choice,” she said weakly.
“Rethink it, lass.”
She stood there stubbornly, although her heart was pounding
a sickening rhythm, and he took hold of her arm and led her
away again. For an instant, she knew terror, but when it became
clear that he was leading her back to the barn rather than
the lean-to, she felt weak with relief. She longed to stop
him and say something to him—but what? Thank you for
not having me beaten? Thank you for trying to help, despite
the fact you’re one of our captors? It was absurd! Preposterous!
Even the feeling he had been trying to help her. Absurd!
He released his grip on her arm. “Go on.”
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