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“Damn, he did it,” Rob yelled out and got a slap from Beck.

“She’s yours for good now,” Beck yelled down and the grate was moved over the hole.

Willow’s head rested on Slatter’s shoulder as she tried to gather her senses. An impossible task since tiny shivers of delightful pleasure continued to trickle through her.

When she found herself able to speak, she said, “You did that on purpose.”

“It was the only way,” he said. “They had to believe we were coupling and you never would have been able to fake a good climax, since you’ve never had one… until now.”

She was going to ask him about his roar, had he faked it? But being she felt him still hard against her, she got her answer.

She felt a bit ashamed that she had allowed herself to lose control while pretending and in front of others and kept her head on his shoulder, not wanting to look at him.

“Willow,” he said softly. When she didn’t respond or lift her head to look at him, he continued, “Believe me when I tell how truly sorry I am, but I don’t regret what I did. You don’t want to be stuck with Beck. When I saw a chance to help you, I took it. I’m only sorry it had to be this way. I will make certain you get home safely to your family.”

“My garments,” she said and Slatter quickly eased them down, covering her.

She didn’t want to speak of it any longer. She wanted to forget it happened, forget how she responded to him so easily. Forget that the three watched from above, though she was glad they were in the hole and the men couldn’t see them too clearly, especially with the darkening skies.

She had reminded herself it was a natural reaction she had, but she should have been able to contain it, not let it go as far as it did, not have responded so easily to him.

“You are being held for ransom?” she asked to get away from her disturbing thoughts.

“Aye, I am.”

“How important are you that Beck holds you for ransom?”

“I’m of no importance at all. We have an ongoing feud.”

“He wins this time since he ransoms you?” Willow asked.

“Actually, ransom or not, I win since he lost you to me.”

She quieted again and while Slatter felt none too proud of what he had done to her, it had been necessary. Willow could have met a far, far worse fate if she were left with Beck.

Slatter had no doubt that whatever Beck’s intentions with Willow had been, it involved getting the highest coin he could for her, whether through ransom or more likely through sale to the highest bidder. He couldn’t let that happen to her. She didn’t deserve such a terrible fate.

She raised her head to look at him and she caught a soft concern there in his dark eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

“Do you think you’ll be ransomed soon?” she asked.

“One can only hope.”

She wanted to try and keep a sliver of a distance between them if she could, but it was cold and leaning against him kept her warm. She imagined it did the same for him. So did she deprive not only herself of warmth, but him as well?

She was too practical to ignore the obvious answer and when she felt him shiver, she did what was best for them both. She leaned against him.

“For warmth we both need,” she said, not wanting him to misconstrue her intentions.

Slatter slipped his arms around her, tucking her flat against him. “Your warmth and thoughtfulness is much appreciated.”

There were times he sounded kind rather than charming and it was those times she felt more inclined to believe him. She only hoped she wasn’t wrong.

“The last time I saw you, you were a prisoner in the Lord of Fire’s dungeon. How is it that you’re here a prisoner in this godawful hole?” she asked.

“Pure luck,” he said with a chuckle. “The Lord of Fire decided that an appropriate punishment for me was to hand me over to a tribe of barbarians he was familiar with for an undetermined amount of time. What neither the Lord of Fire or the barbarians knew was that I’m exceptionally skilled at escaping from almost anywhere or from any one. I escaped the barbarians on my second night with them, only to find myself captured by Beck. Naturally, he wasn’t about to just hand me over without being compensated for his fortunate luck in coming across me. So here I sit and wait, a hole in the ground not easy to escape.”

“How long were you here before I arrived?”

“Two days,” he said, his glance going to the one scratch on her face. “That scratch looks to have worsened.”

“The ale did that, but it will also help heal it,” she said, seeing concern with the way his brow narrowed as he stared at the wound. Even a scrunched brow couldn’t mar or hide his fine features. It seemed no matter what expression the man wore; his good looks didn’t suffer for it.


Tags: Donna Fletcher Mcardle Sisters of Courage Romance