His Conquest. Diana CosbyЧитать онлайн книгу.
angled his mouth and deepened the kiss.
Her struggles weakened. She held, not kissing him back, but not resisting.
He touched his tongue to hers, soft, seducing, wanting her totally lost to sensation. And he’d guessed correctly. Her mouth was sin itself. Her taste, a softness that lured a man back for more.
He rolled with the tide of sensations, a mixture of heat, of his own desperation and need. The cell around him faded, the aches pounding through him fell away as he sank into the kiss. On a soft moan, she leaned against him and began kissing him back, hesitant, unsure, as if a flower daring to open beneath the first rays of the sun.
The fumbling inexperience of her efforts, the tiny gasps of pleasure as she moved her lips against his own, seduced him as effectively as if she were a seasoned courtesan. His mind blurred as his body took full control. Wanting to touch her, to savor the velvet sweep of her skin beneath his fingers, to drive her over the edge before he sank deep into her silken depths, he released one of her wrists.
A guard’s call echoed in the distance.
Seathan broke free, his pulse racing, his blood pounding hot, and recaptured her hand. He stared at the beguiling woman, stunned, amazed, and still wanting her.
What in bloody hell? He’d meant to silence her. To keep her from bringing every knight within the castle from rushing to the dungeon. But need had poured through him in a blistering wash, smothering even his pain, and for a moment he had willingly drowned.
Neither did he miss the desire still burning in her eyes, flames that ate at his control and invited him back.
The pulse at the base of her neck raced. “Our bargain,” she hissed, “was for you to escort me to the Highlands, nothing more.”
If the situation weren’t so dire, he would have laughed. Here she stood trapped by an armed warrior twice her size and she dared to argue?
But in this she was correct. He had given his word. To her good fortune, he was a man of principles.
Gritting his teeth against the pain and willing his body to calm, Seathan released her and stepped back. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect from her, but her wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if she found his taste foul wasn’t one that suited his pride.
He caught her shoulders and dragged her to within a hand’s breadth of his chest. The male in him demanded she acknowledge the heat that had surged between them. Regardless of her initial rebuke, if he touched her now, with her willing response of moments before, he might seduce her.
Another guard called in the distance.
Eyes wide, she glanced down the corridor. Her worried expression convinced him his instincts proved right; she was involved with something more than a simple plot to ensure their escape.
The last of his desire fled.
“Who are you?” Though softly spoken, his words were laced with menace.
Silence.
“Tell me or I swear I will secure you within the cell and depart.”
Panic flashed in her eyes. “Your honor rests on your word.”
“Aye, to take you to the Highlands, but not to be used as prey for one of Lord Tearlach’s twisted games. Your name!”
At the mention of the viscount, her face paled. “Linet.” She shot another nervous glance down the dungeon. “If we are discovered…”
Another guard called out, this time closer.
“’Twould seem he is searching for his drugged counterparts.” Seathan caught her hand. “Come.”
“Wait!”
He tightened his grip and hauled her down the eastern corridor.
The lass fought him. “Not that way! We must use the secret passage.”
Seathan rounded on her, winced at the pull on his wound. “If you value your life, this had best not be a trap.”
She shook her head. “I want my freedom as much as you.”
And for an unexplainable reason, be it the stubborn lift of her chin, or the desperation in her voice, Seathan believed her. Not that he would tell her. Or let down his guard.
“Which way?” he demanded.
“Toward the stairs.”
He looked past the unmoving guards and the steps leading to the keep, to the remainder of the dungeon beyond. Then he pinned her with a skeptical glare. “There is naught but the dungeon’s end.”
“The passageway is known to but a few.”
“A few?”
“There is no time for debate.”
“Or treachery.” The lass held his harsh glare. She had brawn, he’d give her that. Seathan nodded. “Lead the way.”
She tried to pull her hand free.
He held tight.
“Release me.”
“Not until we are safe.”
Frustration flashed on her face. “I am helping you escape.”
“Aye, for reasons you withhold.”
She shot him a cold look, then turned and started forward.
The cool breeze melded with the stench of the dungeon, providing a hint of fresh air. But to him it was heaven, cutting through the nausea threatening his every breath. He pushed forward. Adrenaline kept him upright as did his thoughts of revenge.
They kept to the shadows as they moved along the corridor. Errant flickers of torchlight cut through the murky gray, periodically illuminated by another slash of lightning.
They moved past unconscious guards slumped in the narrowed hall, the men’s breathing even, their bodies tangled in haphazard positions. The lass had claimed she’d drugged them. In this, she’d told the truth. Still, a nagging doubt of her intentions persisted. Why did the lass flee the castle in the dark of the night?
Several paces farther she stopped. “Here.”
Sweat covered his body as he braced his legs to steady himself. He scanned the wall. Illuminated by a torch set within a sconce, each crafted stone lay wedged into place with expertise, not a crack or any fault to suggest an entry.
“I see no door.”
At Lord Grey’s gruff claim, Linet laid her hand upon a nondescript stone about waist high. With a slight push, the hidden stone panel swung inward.
Stale air rushed out. The candle she’d left burning inside sputtered in a mad dance. Then the flame steadied and embraced the opening within its soft glow.
A muffled rumble of thunder echoed as she glanced at the earl, whose gaze lay fixed on her with suspicion. As if she expected anything different? Since he’d first seen her, he’d watched her with nothing but predatory doubt.
Except for when he’d kissed her. A subtle edge of arousal had darkened his gaze, an element as basic as the need for air.
Memories of his heated look poured through her, an urgent pull that demanded a response. His dark taste, a sheer male essence that overrode every other thought.
Unnerved, she willed his effect on her away. Lord Grey was too dangerous a man to relax her guard. God forbid if he learned it was her brother who had imprisoned him, tortured him, then sentenced him to hang.
She needed to keep her wits. Though he was weakened from his beatings, his eyes smoldered with intelligence, that of a warrior trained to notice the smallest detail, a man who wielded his mind as deftly as his sword.
She should have anticipated his asking her name. Shaken, she’d given the rebel her real one. Thank God he hadn’t recognized it.
That