Betrayed (8 page)

As Amber stood there, the sword pulling her arms lower and lower, she felt a bond bridging her and Krayne, then realised it had been there from the start. He’d crossed that bridge a few times to brazenly melt her bones before retreating, but always left it standing. Breaking it down was beyond him. Beyond her. Their destinies were entwined. Amber had never given the fates much thought, and now she wondered if their fates would collide and explode rather than come together.

Love or hate? Her gaze washed over his half-naked body. He was so handsome, and forbidding, an ancient Greek god carved from brimstone. The span of his muscular chest narrowed slightly to lean hips, an arrow of black curls disappearing into the band of his leather britches in a tempting manner that heated Amber to her toes. She wasn’t sure she had the courage to love such a man.

The numbing sensation spread up her tired arms, forcing a decision.

She couldn’t kill him. Even were they fated to be bitter enemies, to hate each other into eternity, she needed him somewhere out there to do just that. He needed her too. His dark gaze penetrated deep, almost to her soul, telling her all she needed to know.

Krayne would never truly harm her.

He would never take her life.

Of that she was certain.

Watching her tip the blade point into the ground and angle the hilt toward him, Krayne felt every bit the arrogant bastard he’d been accused of. He’d been driven by anger, not the urge to gloat, but still he’d known the lass never stood a chance of handling a broadsword. He made a silent vow there and then:
I’ll fashion a weapon she can master and, by God, I’ll teach her ta use it even if I have ta ride out ta Spedlin ta do so.

He crossed the distance and spread his fingers over her hand as he reached for his sword. As he moved in to the fresh scent of her skin, he couldn’t stop the promises whispering in his blood:
mine. All mine.

Amber went still as the heat from his hand seemed to seep into her skin. The thought of resistance was too enormous to contemplate. He brought his head down with one last step toward her, the movement deliberately slow, and a thread of excitement trembled along her spine. His scent infused her. His sun-bronzed body, corded with muscle and brimming with potency, was a lodestone to her desire.

Her hands went out, her fingertips pressed to his chest as he came closer and closer. Her lips parted to receive him. At the last possible moment he swept past and pressed his cheek to hers.

“Ye’ll not spread yer legs fer another man until I’m done with ye,” he whispered fiercely.

The spell broke.

Amber jerked her hand free and stood back on shaky legs. Something burned in the recessed shadows of his gaze. Desire? Possession? Madness? Anger fuelled the devastation coiling in her belly like a white-hot snake. She curled her fists, lest the urge to strike him overwhelmed her. “How dare you?”

“How dare I?” He sheathed his sword with measured slowness. When he spoke, there was an emptiness to his tone. “Tell me, did ye cry out in disgust or pleasure when Red John rammed himself inta—” He cut off as her flat palm struck his cheek.

Amber kept her eyes on him. She was glad she’d slapped him and wouldn’t cower at his retaliation. He did nothing. She could read nothing from his blank gaze. “Why don’t you ask him?” she bit out, wishing she had the power to hurt this man.

“Aye, I will.” With that, Krayne turned away to fetch his horse. “I shall enjoy picking the answers from his entrails as I gut the man fer incompetence.”

Amber’s stomach heaved.

“Come.” He mounted and walked his horse over to her. “I’ve dallied overlong.”

Guilt stuck her feet to the ground. Poor Red John had suffered enough at her hands. She lifted her gaze to his. “Leave him be. Red John has naught to tell you.”

Krayne bent low to grab her chin. “We’ll see.” He held her a moment, then pushed her away.

“Do not harm him, I beg of you.”

A scowl blackened his brow. “He touched ye.”

The simple condemnation flustered her. Red John had failed in his duty, allowed himself to be distracted by lust, and for that fault Krayne would…what? Surely not kill the man?

“I stole his clothes and horse and pride, and gave him naught in return. If anyone should be punished, ’tis me. Red John has already paid dearly.”

“He told me ye seduced him,” Krayne said calmly.

Amber worried her lower lip with small white teeth. Dear Lord, was there nothing Red John hadn’t shared with his laird? “The suggestion of seduction is almost as powerful as the act itself. I convinced him to cool his ardour with a swim in the river lest he be too eager and—”

“Naked?” Krayne bit out. God help him, he could no longer maintain this indifference and he suddenly discovered he could live quite well without the details.

“Of course naked. One strips your clothes before the deed, not during or after.”

“Enough.”

Amber grit her teeth. As usual, her words were falling on deaf ears. She threw her hands up with a heavy sigh. “Why on earth would I lie to you?”

Krayne regarded her with heavily hooded eyes. “Ta protect yer lover?”

“Lover?” She was so taken aback, she forgot all about damping Krayne’s anger to spare Red John. “I sent him back to you on foot and naked. Exactly what part in there makes you think I care for your man at all, let alone wish to defend him?”

Krayne dislodged the temptation to believe her. He wanted to, so damn badly, and that was precisely why he couldn’t trust himself to. Before he did something stupid, like concede she might be speaking the truth, he swung low and scooped her up and onto his lap.

Amber shrieked as her legs left the ground. Then again as her bottom thumped down on the hard surface of his right thigh, both her legs dangling to one side. Thoroughly winded, she said nothing as Krayne led the horse into a steady canter, giving a sharp whistle over his shoulder to command Zuma to follow.

Each time the horse’s front hooves came down, Amber was bounced on muscle that might as well have been a boulder, and eventually her bottom was so sore, she had to swallow her pride and shift fully onto his lap. Her arms went around his waist and the heat of his bare chest pressed to her cheek. His scent was pure male. She looked up to find his gaze set on the horizon.

Ye’ll not spread yer legs fer another man until I’m done with ye.

What had he meant?

He wants me as his woman.

Her heart skipped a beat as she considered agreeing to such a preposterous demand.

He’ll not have his hostage play whore with his men and distract them from their duty again.

A far more likely truth.

Krayne’s composure was the antithesis of her own upheaval. He put her at complete odds with herself for no good cause. For a moment, she’d thought she’d seen the man beneath the armour. Had that merely been her imagination? Did she truly know what Krayne was capable of?

Only this morning, he’d threatened to throw her back into that death hole.

No, she would not believe he’d go through with it.

Krayne was a stranger who’d so far given her no reason to trust.

Yet she did trust him. He’d thrown her his sword and gazed into her eyes, and she’d seen through to his soul and found that bond of trust.

“I’m not a whore,” Amber murmured, hating that he thought the worst of her.

Krayne’s gaze snapped to her. His jaw hung loose for the span of a heartbeat, then squared to its usual hardness. “I never said ye were.”

“You thought it.”

Krayne transferred the reins to one hand and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. Soft as silk. Firm and warm.

Nay, he’d never once mistaken her for a cold whore. “Yer a spoilt brat, Amber, with no care fer how cruelly ye use a man fer yer own will.” His words were softly spoken as his fingers grazed a path across her cheek and down the line of her throat. With his desire throbbing against her thigh as she moved with the horse’s rhythm, with her flowery scent pressed up against him, little of his anger remained. “Yer no whore. I never said it and I never thought it.”

Her mouth opened in protest.

Suppressing a chuckle, Krayne slid his finger up and over her lips. “The time fer fighting is past.”

He wasn’t sure if his finger or his words quietened her. ’Twas enough that those long lashes she lowered did not wholly shade the tremulous signs of kindling desire. He gave the horse free rein so he could devote his attentions to the comely lass in his arms.

His gaze caressed her, from the tip of her shapely nose and the curve of high cheekbones, from the cleft in her stubborn chin and the delicate tongue that darted out to wet parted lips, from the top of her drenched head to where her thigh was wedged against his erection.

Slowly, steadily, he convinced himself that any fire stoked between them would burn wild and out of control. Giving Amber no opportunity to play her games. And he couldn’t seem to care for anything but proving himself right.

As his fingers massaged the hollow at her nape, her eyes glazed over a little. His arm slid along her shoulder, lifting her higher, closer, turning her into him as his mouth came down to claim what he’d desired from the very first. Her lips were soft, firm, swollen. He kept the kiss gentle, nipping her lower lip lightly, then covering her mouth in a lingering sweep that ended by sucking her upper lip.

Warmth stole into Amber’s blood as his mouth moved over hers. Whatever she’d dreamed, this moment was that, and beyond. It had to be. She hadn’t the experience of being wrapped in a blanket woven from scent, touch and heat to put into any dream. All her doubts and fears were snuffed as she surrendered to his kiss.

Her lips parted on their own accord and Krayne responded instantly. His mouth hardened on hers, his tongue pushing through with one insistent prod that should probably have shocked her. A part of this man was inside her, filling her so completely, sensuously, wickedly. She was overcome by the intimate dance as his tongue caressed and stroked, coaxing a series of shudders that trembled to her inner core. Then she was kissing him back, following his lead and learning fast as waves of desire drowned any shyness at showing her ignorance.

When her tongue dipped between his lips, Krayne became fully aroused. He swore through the bruising pain of his injury even while he rolled his tongue around hers, pulling her in deeper. Christ, he should make the wench pay for elbowing him in the balls. Instead,
he
seemed to be paying double. The continuous jolt of the slow trot wasn’t doing him any favours either.

Still, he didn’t stop. Satin-tipped fingers touched his chest, then scraped through the covering of short curls in hesitant exploration. His lips slanted over hers, again and again, his tongue plunging in and out with each progressive stroke.

Amber was a mess. Each thrust was a promise of sweet nectar that seemed to drive her higher and higher to the edge of some unknown peak that she couldn’t quite reach. Liquid heat built between her thighs and she clawed Krayne in a desperate urge for more as small moans built up from a hidden place inside and escaped into his kisses.

It was the passionate moans and clawing that finally got to Krayne. He had no intention of spilling his seed inside his britches. He pulled out of the kiss, weaving his fingers through Amber’s hair to help turn her lips from him. He dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead before shifting her in his arms so that she faced forward again. Using his arms and his body, he sheltered her from the wind channelled through the dale. When she rested the back of her head against his chest, he grunted in contentment.

He’d have to let her go of course, but he would return to claim her. The exchange would proceed tomorrow as planned. Then he needed to set his home in order. Dust the glitter from Stivin’s eyes, for one. The lad was off to Edinburgh and would soon forget the lovely Amber. Stivin would dip his stick a few times in the city fountain and realise that lust was no cause worthy of fighting dragons. Hell, his young cousin would be honoured to have Krayne grappling for his leftovers. No small feat for an untried buck.

Amber created more intrigue and drama with the crook of a finger than Krayne cared to experience in a lifetime, but a mistress was vastly different from a wife. If she did not yield to him completely, he’d send her away. If she refused to give up her silly games, or if they turned truly venomous, he’d send her away. After all, how long could it take for him to tire of her?

“Krayne?”

He rested his chin on top her head. “Hmmm?”

“You wouldn’t have thrown me in that pit, would you?”

“What pit?” Her hair was gloriously silky, smelling of apples of all things. He grinned.

“The dungeon.”

He roused himself from the sweet, fresh fragrance of her hair to concentrate on this talk of pits and dungeons.

“This morning,” Amber added lightly. “You threatened to throw me in the dungeon.”

“Aye,” he drawled, “that I did.” He’d completely forgotten about that. So much for scaring her into obedience with empty threats, he thought with some amusement. “’Tis apparent ye never took the warning ta heart.”

“Oh, I did,” Amber said with a smile he couldn’t see. She just hadn’t had the luxury of heeding it. “But now…”

Her voice trailed off as she rubbed her cheek against his warmth. She felt so safe. For the first time since her father had passed on, she didn’t have to stand bravely on her own.

“But now?” A stern note crept into his indulgent tone.

“Now I know you would never put me through that suffering.”

“Oh.”

Amber frowned. His voice had gone from indulgent to wary to chilly.

“Yer confidence is enlightening,” Krayne added to the silence, using considerable control to return a neutral tone to his voice. ’Twas only his pride, he knew, but damn if it didn’t feel like a whole lot more had been lanced. As loath as he was to aggravate the wound, he had to know for sure. “Is this the reason ye kissed me?”

He sounded as strained as the tensed muscles in his jaw. He wondered why he held his breath awaiting her answer. It wasn’t as if she’d actually admit the truth.