Rogue of the Isles (41 page)

The men looked at her and then at each other. “And now you be found,” one of them said as all three started walking toward her, malicious grins on their faces.

“Wait here.” Jamie tossed a guinea to the driver of the hired hack. “I do not expect to be long.”

The driver bit into the coin to test it and then nodded, taking a musket from the floor beside him and laying it across his knees.

Jamie proceeded up the debris-littered street toward the address Algernon had given him. The shabby houses could hardly be in a worse part of London, but it also provided perfect cover for Wesley Alton. They should never have assumed the man had gone to France. Jamie set his jaw. The man was mad and he had Mari, but not for long. If Alton had harmed Mari in any way, he would die.

Several doors away, Jamie crossed a yard that was little more than dirt, rock and dried weeds so he could approach the back of the place unseen. From what the Frenchman had told him—and he was quite willing to talk after a little blood dribbled down his neck—Wesley Alton should be alone. But Jamie was taking no chances. He certainly did not want Mari used as a shield.

Stopping behind a tree, he surveyed the layout. There was a small window at the back of the house—too small for Jamie to crawl through, but it matched the description Algernon had given him. Not that he had any reason to doubt the bastard, even if he didn’t trust him. Jamie had left him trussed like a turkey for Yule and locked in a closet. If Jamie didn’t return, the man would die of eventual starvation, and if Jamie returned without Mari, the Frenchman’s hands would never hold a paintbrush again. Those were the options Jamie had given him.

Now he crouched low behind a bramble hedge, staying out of sight of the window as he moved to the side of the house. There was another small window there, but it was covered with a curtain. Jamie listened, trying to discern voices, but he heard none. Cold sweat trickled down his back. Was he too late?

Reaching the front door, he pulled the claymore silently from its scabbard. He would have the element of surprise, but he would have to act quickly. Jamie took a deep breath and raised his leg to kick the door in and then practically sprawled through as it was not locked. Years of battle had taught him to keep his balance and he assumed a warrior’s stance, knees bent and feet wide apart, both hands on his sword, ready to swing.

But the room was empty.

Mari had been here though. Jamie moved to the chair near the broken-down coffee table and picked up the ropes that had been her bonds. They were freshly frayed along the edges, but the main part had been cut through, albeit unevenly. He glanced at the table, noting the splintered edge, fragments of the hemp clinging to it along with a bit of material, and allowed himself a smile. The wee lass had the wits to be resourceful.

Where had she gone?

Jamie stepped outside, scouring the street. A pack of skinny dogs picked at garbage not far away and a hostile face stared at him from a window across the road, but he didn’t see anyone else about. Had Alton moved Mari? There were a number of warehouses this close to the river, but worse, there were also ships readying for departure. Algernon had sneered something about plans to take Mari to France—before Jamie bloodied his nose and loosened a few teeth.

Damn it. He’d always hated the docks. Jamie ran toward the river, recalling only too vividly the day, years ago, when he’d been too late to rescue another woman. He’d been young and stupid back then. He could not fail again. Not with Mari. He’d bribe every captain if he had to.

Jamie heard a scream just as he was about to turn the corner for the wharf. Forcing himself not to rush headlong into unknown danger as he had done the last time, he pressed himself flat against the last building and peered around.

Mari stood on the quay, warily watching the three dockworkers who encircled her. Each time she tried to take a step, one of them would move closer as though they were playing a game of cat and mouse.

Jamie stepped out. The dirk from his belt whistled through the air, striking the nearest man in the shoulder while his
sgian dubh
grazed the second man’s head. Swinging the claymore over his head, he charged the third man, shouting the MacLeod battle-cry, “Hold fast!”

None of them did. Knives clattered to the ground as all three bolted. Jamie had a mind to follow them, but Mari’s frightened face forestalled him. Letting his sword drop, he held out his arms as Mari flung herself to him.

“’Tis all right, lass. We are going home.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jamie climbed the steps to the townhouse later that evening, wanting to check on Mari before going back to the boarding house. Other than the bruise on her face and being shaken, she insisted she would be fine. Effie had all but shooed him out of the way while she and Agnes bustled about getting a hot bath ready, but not before Mari had whispered that she loved him—and he’d surprised himself by how rapidly he had returned the feelings.

In spite of the way the rest of the evening had gone, Jamie grinned. He and the lass were going to have a wee talk about holding things back from now on.

Then he sobered. He’d gone to the authorities and taken a detective back to the address by the docks, but there was no trace of Wesley Alton. Even more disappointing was arriving at Algernon’s flat to find him missing as well, although a half-written ransom note had been found. Upon finding Mari gone, Alton obviously had wasted no time in checking out the whereabouts of his son. The police had descriptions, but Jamie suspected this time the two really were on a ship bound for France. With written evidence as well as two eyewitnesses who’d survived, Alton and Algernon would be fools to stay in England. And, whatever else Jamie thought of the bastards, he did not take them for fools.

“How is Mari doing?” he asked Agnes after Givens had shown him in.

“She is resting quite comfortably in her chambers,” Agnes replied and then smiled. “I suppose, given the fact that you saved her life, it would be all right if you wanted to visit with her for a bit.”

Jamie could hardly believe his ears. The last time he’d entered Mari’s chambers, he’d endured quite a lecture from both Effie and Mari’s aunt about the impropriety of such an action. But he was no fool either. He took the steps three at a time.

Knocking softly on the door, he hoped Mari was not asleep and then smiled as she called for him to enter.

He’d expected to find her abed. Instead, she was sitting in the window alcove, wearing a silk dressing gown that revealed enough delectable cleavage to make his mouth water. He swallowed hard.

“I was hoping you would come,” Mari said, stood and walked toward him slowly, her gaze not leaving his face.

What was she doing? The walk was positively seductive, and her eyes were half-hooded. If he hadn’t known the lass, he would consider the look an invitation along with the half smile playing on her full, luscious lips.

Are…are ye feeling better then?” he asked, feeling suddenly like a dolt.

“I am now,” Mari said as she reached him and put her arms around his neck.

“What are ye doing? Did ye suffer a hit on the head I dinnae ken about?”

Her eyes widened and she looked doubtful. “Am I not doing this right?”

“It depends, lass, on what it is ye are trying to do.” By the saints. His body was reacting with a will of its own, and he fought to contain himself.

A little frown formed between her brows and Mari stepped back. “I wanted to seduce you. I guess I just do not understand how to—”

“Wait. Ye want to seduce me?” Jamie stared at her. Maybe he was the one who got hit on the head, even though his
other
head was swelling in anticipation and urging him not to ask stupid questions. “Yer aunt will have my hide if I take advantage of ye like this.”

“Effie explained we are hand-fasted.” The doubt returned to Mari’s face. “Of course, I know you did not mean it seriously, but—”

Jamie’s mouth covered hers in a firm, full kiss as he drew her to him. Every lush curve melded against him in perfection as he deepened the kiss, elated when Mari’s tongue began to battle with his. She tasted slightly of mint and something that was uniquely Mari. He drew back to look at her, but he didn’t release his hold.

“Where did ye get the barmy notion I didnae mean it?”

“Well, I knew it was Ian’s idea—”

“Ian’s? Nae, lass. I suggested it.”

Her eyes grew round as she studied his face. “You did?”

“Aye. When ye went missing in the blizzard, I kenned a part of me would die if ye did. ’Twas when I first kenned my true feelings for ye.”

The frown was back. “Then why did you not say so? Why did you let me continue on with Nicholas?”

A corner of Jamie’s mouth quirked up. “
Let
ye? Ye are nae prone to following orders, if I recall. Besides,” he said as he brushed a curl back behind her ear, “the decision had to be yours. I will nae have a wife who feels duty bound.”

“You really wish to marry me?”

“Aye, I do, Marissa Barclay. Do ye want me on bended knee to say it?”

Mari smiled. “What I want you to do is make love to me. Now.”

Jamie felt his shaft stiffen near to the point of pain. He went to the door, locked it and then turned around.

“Come here,” he said.

Mari trembled so much in anticipation she could hardly move forward. Luckily, Jamie didn’t wait for her to take more than a step before he was at her side, scooping her up and placing her on the bed. His deft hands undid the lacings on her gown quickly, and she heard his low growl as he exposed her bare flesh beneath it. She gasped in pleasure as he took her soft nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as it hardened to a taut tip. His thumb flicked back and forth over the other nipple lightly, teasing it to tautness too. Mari made a soft mewling noise and arched her back, wanting more. Jamie obliged, rolling the needy nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it firmly while he increased the pressure of his suckling. Mari began to moan in earnest and cried out when he took his mouth away.

“Dinnae fash, lass. I need to rid myself of clothes.”

Mari watched him make short work of his frock coat and shirt, admiring the hard ridges of his belly as he bared his chest. She’d seen him shirtless before, but not this close. The movement of his heavily muscled arms was pure beauty and something she knew she would never tire of.

Jamie kicked off his boots as he undid his breeches, removing them in one swoop along with undergarment and socks and turned toward her. Mari’s gaze fixated on his large, protruding organ, and she felt the blood draining from her face. Nothing in Abigail’s art books had prepared her for Jamie’s size.

After they’d been hand-fasted, Jillian had explained what took place and that it might hurt a little the first time, but after that, it would feel really good. She obviously had no idea of how huge Jamie’s thing was. It would never fit.

Jamie lay down beside her and drew her close. “Ye look like a wee cornered kitten. Are ye fearful of what will happen?”

Mari burrowed into the hollow of his shoulder, loving the feel of his smooth, warm skin beneath her cheek, but all too aware of the strength of him. “I love you, Jamie, but I do not think I can do this.” She felt his arm stiffen around her shoulder.

“Why nae?”

“You…you are too big. I will likely be torn apart if we try...” She let her voice trail off and felt the rumble in his chest before she heard his laughter. Her temper piqued. “I do not see what is funny about—”

“Shhh.” Jamie put a finger to her mouth, and in one smooth movement, rolled her onto her back and draped a leg over her thighs. “As much of a compliment it is that ye think me large, ye will be able to take me without it tearing ye in two.” He smoothed her brow with his hand before raining light kisses across her forehead and eyelids. “I will try my best to nae hurt ye.”

His lips brushed hers, keeping the kisses gentle until she began to relax. Slowly, she opened her mouth for his tongue, enjoying the leisurely way he explored her mouth until she was ready to return the favor.

“That’s it, Mari,” Jamie whispered as his hands stroked lightly down her arms and across her belly and then up to cup a breast. Kneading it softly, he rubbed his thumb across the tip. He nibbled her ear and then trailed slow kisses down her throat. Mari arched her back again, wanting him to take her achy, needy breast in his mouth like he had done before, but he teased her, circling the aureole with his tongue while her nipple tightened to hardness. Mari groaned and pulled his head down. “More…”

She heard his chuckle again, only this time her temper didn’t flare. She wanted
more
. “Please…” she cried, and then, “Ahhh!” as Jamie finally took the nipple and drew deep, causing sensation to shoot straight to her belly and then to the juncture of her thighs where an odd pulsation began.

As though he felt the sensation, Jamie began a string of kisses down her belly while his skillful fingers continued to play with her breasts. Mari felt strangely mellow and yet honed to a fine edge as every nerve began to tingle.

Jamie slipped lower. It wasn’t until he spread her thighs and settled himself between them that her apprehension returned. She lifted her head to find him watching her, his golden eyes molten.