Linna : Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 5) (12 page)

“I have no trouble with steps
. I climb them daily.”

“You afraid of heights, then?”

“Of course not! I ride...atop a horse and aboard a carriage.”

“But?” he prompted.

“You win! I’m not afraid, but I do hate excessive heights.”

She deserved the look he gave her
. “Right. Interesting. Excessive, huh? Like more than this level or closer to two?”

“Cord
—” she said, from between her teeth.

“You won’t be hard to keep an eye on
. Just sit tight and don’t let these awful steps scare you. I’ll come back for you. Try to miss me. I might take offense if you don’t. Then again, if you do, I might have to take more offense. Think that through while I’m gone.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cord took his time returning for her
. He knew exactly why. He was still coming to terms with what she’d told him, his first reaction to it, and then her disdain. He was going be a father! He’d dropped her luggage because for a couple of seconds there he couldn’t hang onto it. The rush of heat to his head when she’d first said the words, felt alien and odd. Cord had thought, for a moment that he’d actually managed to hold onto his heart despite what had been done to him.

By the time he’d settled her trunk on the floor and stowed her portmanteau beneath the wash basin, he knew the truth once again
. He wasn’t a fresh-faced lad. He was a hardened man. The kind of man that doxies looked at but rarely approached. The kind others kept their distance from. The kind used to corporal punishment. The kind capable of taking a beautiful, innocent girl and leaving her to face the ruin.

He was also
a man that might have just gone weak at the knees with the thought of his son growing safely and securely in her.

Cord stared at his reflection
. He looked the same. He pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes, and pulled the brim further over his eyes. He didn’t want any conflicting emotions. He hadn’t any training or preparation on what he was supposed to do with them. He snarled and spun away.

He’d done it for two reasons and the main one was still there
. He had to have Fletcher’s gold in order to get a foothold onto his own property on Nouvelle Larroque. He had to have gold for the voyage. He had to have gold to buy into business. He had to look reputable enough that the new overseer hadn’t given him a second look when hiring him to work his own fields.

And he had to have the gold to get near enough to his cousin, Marcelle Larroquette, to strangle him.

Cord’s eyes were still narrowed when he came around the corner and found his new wife trying to climb down unassisted, a tight look to her mouth and her eyes scrunched shut. It made his words harsher than he intended.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Her grip loosened as he startled her, then she clung closer. “I tired of awaiting your presence, of course. It can’t be that hard. I’m almost down. Thank you very much, for your consideration.” 

The sarcastic bent of the words wasn’t lost on Cord
. He whistled softly. “Actually darling, you’ve gone down three steps.”

“Impossible.”

“Look for yourself.”

She didn’t
. Cord found his scowl lightening at her stubbornness. It must come with the reddish tint of her hair.

“Can’t you amuse yourself elsewhere and let me proceed as best I may?”

“I would, if I didn’t think you’d harm my property.”

“What property?”

“You’re carrying my property, lady. My son. I’ll thank you for having a care about it.”

“Your property
? Yours? I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Surely you know the law,
Madame
. A man’s wife is his property. His children are, too. You can count yourself in luck that I arrived in time to claim both. I’d have hated to dispatch your other groom and leave you widowed on the day of your wedding.”

“You wouldn’t
—”

“Wouldn’t I?” he replied.

She hadn’t opened her eyes at their exchange, but she had paled. “You’re not that barbaric. You’re teasing. I mean just because you’re barbaric, doesn’t mean you’re—well, it doesn’t mean that you’re truly barbaric.”

“Would you like a demonstration?”

“You didn’t truly harm Luthor, did you?”

“That the name of your intended dupe?”

“Did you?”

“He’ll live
. I already said as much.”

She sighed
. “You were teasing. Thank God. You sounded so serious.”

“Lady, I am serious.”

“But, you just said—”

“I said he lived because your plotting didn’t work
. That’s what I said. That’s what I meant. Are you ready to cease this nonsense and let me get you to my cabin?”

“You
are
barbaric.”

He shrugged
. She wouldn’t have seen it though. “I’m not asking again.”

“Asking what
? I’m not lowering myself to respond to your words anymore,
Monsieur
. I’ll have you know I have taken on more than a little ladder like this in my life. And men like you?”  She made a derisive snort. “I can spit out two for sup!”

He looked heavenward before plucking her from the steps as if she weren’t even holding to the railing
. Her gasp at his actions brought a smile to his mouth as he settled her against him, one arm beneath the crook of her knees and one behind her shoulders. He had to fight the immediate response his body was giving him though. That he could do without, especially as it didn’t appear to be reciprocated. He felt the immediate stiffening of her limbs and tightened his grip on her.

“Don’t fight me, Linna
. You might harm my babe.”

“Of all the conceited nonsense!”

“I said stop. You won’t like the consequences.”

“I don’t give a blather about your consequences, you barbaric, overgrown boor!”

Before she had the chance to struggle, he rolled his arms, pinning her against his chest. It wasn’t difficult. She was a tiny imp of a thing, and he hadn’t spent ten years at hard work for nothing. He held her so closely, he swore he could feel the quickening beat of her heart against his. He guessed the reason. He frightened her.

But if that were true, why the continuing argument
? Her lower lip trembled just before it tightened. Cord watched it and thought about how kissable she was able to make it look. He was on his way to touch his mouth to hers and decide for himself when she spoke again.  

“I suppose you think this is accomplishing something,” she said with her usual sarcasm
. He noticed she still hadn’t opened her eyes though.

Cord sighed and lifted his head
away. “You’re off the ladder, you’re not arguing, and you feel rather good in my arms. I’d say I’m accomplishing quite a bit.”

The
slight stain of a blush bloomed on the cheek right below his nose. Cord stiffened. He couldn’t help it. He’d taken Fletcher’s job for another reason. He’d seen her painted image in the locket. He’d wanted her then. He still did. The one night hadn’t dulled anything. It had merely ignited the desire to a worse state. He’d already decided to go back for her before Fletch had showed up at the plantation – uninvited,  serious as hell, and threatening to blow a hole through him if he didn’t. Cord’s arrival just before she came out of house, intent on eloping with that boy had tested his temper more than she realized.

He didn’t think he’d have dispatched
her intended groom. He was just lucky he hadn’t had to have it tested. She was making him afraid of all the conflicting emotions. The main one right now was having her body in his arms. He sucked in on his cheek. He was afraid of her opening her eyes and seeing it.

“Loosen your hold, Cord,” she whispered.

“You done fighting?”

“You might harm the child.”

His arms instantly loosened, although he didn’t let her go. He watched the satisfaction cross her face. He didn’t like it.

“Are we on level flooring yet?”

“Why?”

“I’ve decided that I like being held like this, by you, worse than any of your consequences.”

“You don’t even want to know what they are?”

“You’re the barbarian
. Enlighten me.”

He nuzzled his nose against her throat
. There was a pulse jumping against his flesh. He ran his upper lip along it before sucking on it.

“Wh
—what do you think you are doing?”

The stammering, as well as her trembling, gave him the clue he needed
. He smiled against her skin. “Your consequences, remember?”

“You can’t just
—”

“Can’t I?”  He ran his lips along the slender line of her jaw, molding them to her chin to lick the soft underside of it
. He didn’t think he imagined her moan. He didn’t know if she was trembling anymore either. His own shuddering overshadowed it.

“I won’t just let you
–”

“You haven’t any choice in the matter, lady.”  He almost had his mouth where he most wanted it
– against hers, when she spoke again. She might as well have thrown cold water on him when she gasped with pain.

“The baby!”

Cord’s head shot up. “What is it? What? What should I do?”

“Nothing,” she replied
. “It...was nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes, nothing. Just as your caresses were. You may unhand me now.”

She was looking at him, belying whatever reaction he’d thought she
’d experienced. Cord spend endless moments looking into the dark-fringed, golden brown of her eyes before realizing what she’d just done. Then, his narrowed. He only knew one way to deal with emotion:  end it. Just as he had every other emotion for the last decade. It wasn’t easy, but it was his own fault. He’d given her the weapon.

“What’s the matter,
Monsieur
Cord? Having difficulty hearing? I just said to unhand me.”

“If I didn’t think it would harm my son, I’d drop you on your well-rounded ass, lady
. Count yourself lucky. You won’t be again.”

“Unhand me and allow me to walk then.”

“Is that want you want?”

“How many times must I say it?”

“Then the answer is no. I’ll not unhand you. If my touch is so abhorrent, guess what you’ve just earned.”

“You can’t be serious
. We had a bargain.”

“And I distinctly heard you give me permission to hold you and touch you and carry you if any passage was too narrow or too high
. I believe this passage qualifies as both. Look about you.”

“Since they probably put you in the bowels of the ship, there could hardly be any height to this passage....”

Her voice ended. Cord knew why. He was taking the plank walkway down into the hold. It wasn’t the only way to reach his cabin, but it was the most effective. He knew that as she tightened her grip on his shoulders. He only wished it wasn’t as pleasant as it was. He wasn’t going to let her know any of it. She already had one thing to use against him: his baby. “You still want me to put you down?” he whispered against her hair.

“Just get me to your stall and let me go.”

“Stall?” he asked.

“I don’t have to see it to know what kind of accommodations you’ll have
. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I think I’m flattered,” Cord answered.

“Flattered? You’re dense.”

“Stalls are for stallions,
non
?”

She gasped and reddened
. He felt an answering reaction all the way to his temples. He was beginning to hope they reached his room soon.

“You’re despicable.”

“I’ve improved from barbaric then. That’s a comfort. Watch your head.”  He said the last as he ducked his head to enter the enclosure he’d purchased. The rest of the men slept on hammocks strung from the rafters about the common room. At least he had a door and four walls.

“Good
heavens, this is your room?” 

“And yours
. You’ll learn to enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it
? There’s not even enough room to turn around.”

“Then don’t turn around.”

She lowered her eyelids and favored him with a look probably reserved for sending her unwelcome beaux packing. Cord felt the response in his gut. He’d never come across such malevolence in such a beautiful wrapping.

“How long am I to be held your prisoner then?” she asked.

“Lifetime sentence. I heard the priest. So did you.”

Her lips tightened
. It wasn’t as much as his though. “I mean, how long are you going to keep me in this—. This—.” 

She didn’t finish, but he knew what she meant
. Cord swiveled his hips, leaning against the wall that held the fold-out bed. Then he released her legs and let her slide to the floor beside him, holding her steady until she found her balance. It wasn’t intentional, but every bit of his side was against every bit of her. That was creating the same spiral of hell he’d experienced at the ball. He only hoped she wouldn’t note it. His lack of control over his craving would just give her another weapon to use.

“Voyage takes a week,” he
finally replied.

“A week,” she said, flatly
. “Seven days?”

“Barring a storm
. That lengthens it. Have you ever ridden out a storm at sea?”

“I’ve never been at sea.”

He snorted in disgust. “You don’t even know if you’re the seasick type? Wonderful.”