Secrets Dispelled (3 page)

Curiouser and curiouser
. Oh, he knew the estate supported farmers and gamekeepers and such like, but why on earth would one of them be around the main drive, in such weather?

A scuffling noise alerted him to the presence of someone or something close and he spun around on his heel. Well, as best he could in squelchy, muddy undergrowth. A thick, thorny, wet branch missed his cheek by inches and a splatter of water tricked over his face and down his neck.

Fuck, shit and double fuck.

The young woman—the muddy and bruised young woman with deep green and pain-filled eyes—who pointed a shotgun at him swayed.

“You fucker, what the hell is all this shit, eh? I should just shoot your balls off and be done with it. In fact if you don’t start taking pdq, I might just do that.”

Coll froze and like all mistreated goodies in bad westerns, slowly put his hands in the air, even though he really wanted to use them to cover his bollocks.

“Ha, see, a…” She blinked owlishly. “A… Oh, fuck it, who are you and why did you knock me out? I guess I should be grateful you didn’t half-inch Sean while you were at it.”

Sean? The gamekeeper? What had she got to do with him? No, that couldn’t be right, there was no Sean working in the estate as far as Coll knew.

“My dog. Where is he?” She took one step forward and went white. “If you’ve hurt him, I will kill you. Slowly. God almighty, do you know how dangerous it is to knock someone out while they carried a loaded gun?”

She swayed again and shut her eyes. Not long enough for him to try any heroics, though. She opened them immediately and he swore he could see pain and confusion in her expression. She wasn’t the only one in the confused part of the equation.

“There was no dog here.”

“Do you?” She ignored his comment about dogs, spoke angrily, and then winced. “Hell so where’s Sean gone… Oh no, that’s right, he’s at Lachy’s. I forgive you.” She said that so stiffly he could see how much she hated it. “But you didn’t know that.”

There was a bruise forming on her cheek, and his mystery lady touched it briefly. “Shit and fuck, a black eye as well.”

“I didn’t. Knock you out. I’m as much at sea as you are.”

Coll lowered his hands and took a step toward her. To do what? She waved the gun and he stood still again.

“Ru…rubbish. No sea for miles.” The gun pointed at him, a tree and back at him again.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to wave a gun round?” he asked in as mild a tone as he could manage whilst castigating himself for being caught like an idiot. “You might hit something.”

Damn, he hoped his tone didn’t make her think he thought that any other time it was unlikely. He didn’t want her to prove herself.

“Exactly, so you better ho…hope…I’ve got the safety on, eh?” She blinked twice. “Do you think, oh well, it’s only a girl”—she invested the word with scorn—“so she wouldn’t blow your brains out. You’re wrong. That, in case you have enough no…nous to wonder why, is because females have their brain in their head not in their go…gonads.”

She seemed to have trouble formulating her thoughts and words. Concussion?

“It’s not loaded.” Coll made his tone as confident as anyone could with a gun pointed at their gonads. He had no idea if it was or wasn’t, but whoever she was carried it well enough to make him think she was too experienced not to have the bloody thing unloaded.

He hoped.

His mystery lady blinked again. “Shwhat?” She looked down at the gun and shook her head. “Whosh says?”

“You did.” Now he had to hope if she was concussed as he assumed, she had no idea what she had and hadn’t said.

“Oh, bugger.” She swung the gun toward a tree a fair few yards away and pressed the trigger.

Coll ducked as bits of bark and leaves flew in all directions.

She looked at the gun like she’d never seen it before and broke it open. Then she stared at Coll.

“You lied.”

Before he had a chance to reply, his mystery lady slid like an overcooked noodle onto the wet ground.

Coll stared at the woman—no, girl, he amended as he took a proper look at the person slumped in front of him and wondered what he’d done to deserve it. Or what she had either.

Something stunk, and it wasn’t just the wet vegetation. He studied the area they were in carefully, but nothing or no one disturbed the rain. Just him and an unconscious female.

At least it had stopped hailing and sleeting but it was almost dark, murky and bloody miserable. The last thing he could do was leave the girl outside in the damp and wait for her to wake up. She needed warmth and dry as soon as possible.

Was it safe to move her? He shrugged mentally. It was a lot safer than getting pneumonia, and he reckoned it should be okay, especially after she’d been able to stand upright—sort off—and shoot. Anyway he really didn’t have much choice. He made sure she was in sight as he picked up the shotgun, broke it open and checked it was empty. Now what? Coll would be the first person to admit he knew about as much of guns as most people knew about his personal preferences. To whit Shibari, scribing and clamps.

Coll made his mind up in his course of action. He walked to where the quad bike had stopped, aware it was probably hers, and found a gun carrying bag. Still with half his mind on the girl, he put the shotgun in it, slung the bag over his shoulders and walked back to lift the still unconscious female into his arms.

Bloody hell.
Coll grunted as he shifted her to an easier position for him to walk—she was no lightweight, and sodden outdoor clothing and heavy boots didn’t help.

She muttered something incoherent and he waited to see if she’d say anymore, but there was silence. The sooner he got her indoors, the better.

He began to walk briskly down the drive toward the house, very aware that if she woke up in his arms, she might well carry out her threats and make sure fatherhood was nowhere in his future.

It was almost enough to make him drop her and cover his nuts.

Chapter Three

Her world had stopped swaying so much. Were they now in harbor? Surely she really hadn’t decided to take a cruise? For goodness sake, she got seasick on the boating lake at home and that was in a pedalo and two feet of water. Finn wondered if it was worth opening her eyes. Tried one, managed about a millimeter and decided the answer was no. She felt like rubbish and had no desire to throw up if she could get away with not doing so. Anyway, her head hurt, her cheek throbbed and bouncing up and down like she was gave her no inclination to do anything except go back into oblivion.

Her feet hit something hard. Pain sped through her body like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Finn struggled and hit something softer. Soft with a core of steel. What was it? This boat was so not good. She kicked out and wondered if she had a death wish as little men with hammers invaded all of her and not just her head. Dimly, she thought she heard someone cuss and say, ‘Ah shit, sorry’, but she couldn’t swear to it, and her mouth wouldn’t form any words to ask. Once more her world turned gray.

When she finally opened her eyes, she looked up at soft cream. Like a milkshake. Cream? Since when was the sky that color? And surely the sky didn’t look so uniform unless it was gray? Had it stopped sleeting and stuff? Why was the ground so soft and warm? She wriggled and found her arms and legs didn’t want to move.

Why not? Okay, she felt woozy and spaced out, but surely that didn’t equate for limbs that were leaden and unmoving? And what was she covered with? Wet waterproofs were not as snuggly.

Finn looked away from the sky… No, not the sky she realized, a ceiling. High to be sure but a roof over her head at least and she gazed down at herself.

Covered in a duvet. Deep brown with a green trim. Like the earth and the grass. Why on earth was she associating a cover with the outside? She was definitely indoors, and it certainly wasn’t her own indoors.

Which then beggared the question, where was she?

And the even more serious questions. Why was she certain she was naked and why couldn’t she move her hands and legs?

Surely not just because her head ached and her brain was scrambled? Finn wriggled a bit, felt the mattress—she was sure she was in a bed—move with her, and very carefully assimilated all she knew.

Tied up? Certainly. Why? No idea.

How? There was a weird set of ropes and pulleys above her and she saw, as she gingerly moved her head to one side, ornate head and footboards with what looked like rings and ropes and—
oh fucking shit,
what the hell have I got myself into
—chains attached to them.

Finn concentrated hard, lifted her ankles a full two inches and heard what she thought could be a chain rattle. The same result occurred when she moved her wrist. She tugged and swore.

I’m cursing more today than I have in a year. What the fuck is going on? Who’s got me trussed up like a turkey for the oven?
She pulled harder. All that did was add extra soreness to her already pain-laden body.

“You’ll hurt yourself if you carry on like that and I really will want to wash your mouth out with soap.” The voice came from over her shoulder.

A man entered her vision and she swallowed twice, very hard.

Drop-dead gorgeous was an understatement.

Tall, without an ounce of fat on him but not muscle bound, thank the Lord, he had no man boobs. His dark hair was short with a sexy hint of gray running through it and a mouth-hollowing, ‘come to me and tidy it’ curl which fell over his forehead. His eyes were a mesmeric blue, which reminded her of a Mediterranean sea at midnight. Finn bit back a giggle as she swallowed nervously. She sounded like the rantings of a lovesick lunatic. Even dressed as he was in low-slung—unbuttoned—jeans, he exuded power. The sort of guy, Finn decided, who would have women rolling over and begging for whatever crumbs he threw their way. The sort who needed a badge on that said ‘dangerous animal do not upset’.

Dark hair sprinkled over his chest, outlining his nipples, and arrowed down under that unsnapped waistband. She tried without much success not to imagine what was hidden under the denim. She was in enough trouble as it was without clit-clenching, damp pussy dreams.

If it would have been possible, Finn knew fine well she would have trembled, closed her eyes and inched backwards. She couldn’t, so she swallowed several times more and tried to clear her throat without much success.

Lord, what had she got herself into?

“Pardon?” Was that scratchy voice really hers? She guessed any other person in this predicament would sound less prickly. Sadly, not her. She’d never been able to do conciliatory very well. “What the hell is this all about?” What else could she, should she, say? ‘Let me loose, you fucker’ might not be very sensible.

“Cussing is not becoming or acceptable, pet.”

Pet?
All her thoughts and the hints and innuendos she’d heard came rushing back in spades.

“I’m not a pet. Why am I fastened? Have you kidnapped me or something? Wasn’t knocking me unconscious enough?” Her words tumbled over one another and she heard her voice rise and felt her breathing speed up. “Where am I? Who do… Ooft.” He’d stopped her tirade of questions by putting his palm of one hand over her mouth, and stroked her cheek with the other hand.

Her heart missed a beat. Why did such a soft touch across her bruise make her feel loved and cherished? Why did he stare at her so intently? Finn forgot his hand was over her lips, opened her mouth to speak and sucked in soft skin.

She wasn’t sure who was the most shocked. Her nipples tightened as his eyes darkened almost to the color of midnight.

Finn dropped her gaze.

Her captor laughed softly.

“Well, well. If you’re not my pet, what are you? Puss? Kitten? Baby?”

“Captive, and why?” If only her squeak and croak hadn’t changed to little girl breathy, she’d be a lot happier.

He shook his head and laughed out loud before he moved his hands and shrugged into a dark gray sweatshirt with ‘Geographers map every contour’ written over the outline of a body on the front.

“Look, pet. Contrary to what you might think, I’m a Dom, not a dickhead, despoiler or defiler. Any sub I have is consenting and satisfied. And not concussed. I fastened you for your safely whilst I went for water and a cloth. You were in my sight every second, but I had very vivid pictures in my mind.”

“Yeah, I get it. Pervert.” She didn’t really think that, but there was no way she was going to tell him how wet the idea of what his thoughts might have been were making her.

“Not at all, you were concussed not that long ago. Out for the count. I don’t have hospital sides to bring up. Just shackles and cuffs.”

He grinned and Finn was damned sure now she’d stained the bed with her arousal. Lordy, she hoped he didn’t find the evidence until she was long gone. How embarrassing.
Oh, your voice and words alone almost made me come.
Yeah, that’d be right. She’d die of shame on the spot.

“This was the best I could do. So before you blame me for your woes, why not tell me, who you are and what you were doing?”

Finn considered him. “Untie me.”

“Why, pet? You look so good there, like that.” The tone was teasing, the look in his eyes wasn’t.

“Kidnap maybe?” It was almost impossible to regulate her breathing and she could tell that he, knew it.
Dammit.

“Oh dear. There I was all concerned for your safety, pet, and you throw that at me.” He leaned forward and within a few seconds her wrists and ankles were free and the chains that had shackled her swung gently in their mountings. “All free. Now what?”

“Are you really a Dom?”
Shoot, where did that come from?

Those dark blue eyes twinkled. “Oh yes,” he said gravely. “A fully paid-up, card-carrying member, pet. Why?”

“Umm…”

Now how to ask him other questions that she’d always wanted to know the answers to. Somehow, thankfully he seemed to understand. “Let’s sit you up a bit and if you fancy, I’ll make you a cuppa and answer all your queries. You look fit to burst. Yes?”