The Strength of Baffin Page 14

  For a second, he shifted beneath her angry glare and was sorely tempted to stand. Tethran felt strangely uneasy lying there, naked as the day he was born, while this woman--Jolin--was staring daggers at his slightly erect manhood. No, he would not have it, no matter how remorseful he was feeling at the moment.

  “No.” Her voice came softly but with a tinge of anger he could have hardly mistook. “Don’t stand.”

  Tethran’s jaw clenched but he remained where he was. He saw when she drew in the very next breath.

  “I can understand you’re concern--” Her mouth twisted bitterly as she spat the word. “--for my safety but had you really any intention of actually helping me?”

  He released a ragged breath. “Of course. And I was going to tell you but--”

  “Then I suppose it was a most opportune time for you to confess now that you’ve finally bedded me.”

  Her brutal tone made him flinch. Cursing below his breath, he swung his legs out of bed and tugged on his trousers. “I’d not dishonour you in such a way.”

  Jolin released a derisive laugh. “What a fool I’ve been to think you could actually…”

  Tethran eyed her curiously but she broke off and angled her head away. “To think that I could actually what?”

  She faced him once again, her eyes stormy. “It doesn’t matter either way. I think you should just leave. It’s best I returned to Dumbar anyway.”

  “The bloody hell, you will!” Tethran crossed the room in three long strides. He jerked her against him and met her furious gaze. Even when angry, the blasted woman made him hard. “You’re not going anywhere, you understand me? Have you forgotten how dangerous it is?”

  She fought to escape his grip. “I’ve not forgotten a damn thing, you oaf. “Get your hands off me or I swear I’ll…I’ll--”

  “What?” He drew her up in his arms until they were eye to eye. “You’re going to slap me again? Spit in my face? You could do all that and more but it still wouldn’t stop me from wanting to carry you back to that damn bed and love till you quit being such a damn shrew. Are you blind or haven’t you noticed that I actually do care what happens to you? You think I pounded a man to within an inch of his life because I merely liked it? Or that I’d come storming in here close to a hour ago because I enjoy yelling at you?” He squeezed her tighter to him until their noses almost touched. “Yes, I bloody well care about you and you’re driving me fucking crazy with your reckless decisions. I’m begging you to end it now and stop being stubborn on purpose!”

  Jolin blinked, her mouth agape. Her heart was racing as her ears struggled with all Tethran had just said. His eyes were blazing with fury and…something else she wouldn't dare ask of him. But-- “You…you care about me?”

  His arms relaxed almost instantly around her and his sigh tickled her nose. “You honestly believe what happened in that bed was just me scratching an itch?”

  She flinched at his crude words and ducked her head. “I-I just thought…” She shook her head and faced him again, bravely this time. “You were always so angry at me.”

  Tethran scowled. “And you don’t admit to playing any role in causing that? You’re a sharp-tongued, irrational woman and you irritate me to bloody high heaven and back.”

  She returned the scowl. “And you’re not so wonderful either, in case you’re wondering. Walking around sulking all the dratted time as if the whole world is against you!”

  “Isn’t it?” He set her on her feet and pointed at his face. “Do you know what it’s like to walk around looking like this for half of your life? To see the disgust in people’s eyes? To know that no one will ever see you for who you are?”

  “I see you--”

  “I’ve never wanted their pity, Jolin. And I don’t need yours now.” Tethran heaved a sharp breath and turned, stalking over to gather the rest of his clothes. He pulled his shirt over his head and shoved the hem inside the waist of his trousers before donning his boots.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He scowled. The bloody woman. He turned his back to her, all the while desperately trying to set himself back to rights. The soft, tender catch in her voice offered a tempting solace from his pain. From the memories…the anguishes that haunted him every single day and every damnable night. Only wrapped in her giving arms and buried deep inside her slick warmth, had he managed to feel some respite.

  “Air. I need to get some air.” He pivoted to face her but instantly regretted it. The look in her eyes was far too troubling for any man to swallow. But he needed to get out of this damn room before he drowned in those eyes and started baring his soul. He had way too many demons that needed to be exorcised before he were to ever fully surrender to any woman. Especially her.

  She started towards him and he clenched his fists. “But you can’t just…go like that,” Jolin groused. “We just…” She wove a gesturing hand to the rumpled bed as her cheeks mottled deep pink, but didn’t stop moving until she was standing right beneath his nose. Tethran knew, because she had titled her head all the way back to regard him in a way that told him she was bent on preventing him from leaving. She crossed her arms quite vexedly and frowned. “You’re not leaving.” She stated it rather matter-of-factly. “We have much to discuss.”

  “I’m not in the discussing mood, in case you haven’t yet realized.” He made to move around her but she blocked his path with one swift side-way step. Tethran raked a hand through his hair, feeling the need to rip it all out and be done with. “You do realize that I can just lift you and toss you aside?”

  Jolin did not budge an inch. “I have no doubt that you can. But I don’t believe you will. You care about me, remember?”

  Tethran’s frown transformed into a full-blown glower. She’d drawled the word care with far too much overweening glee for his liking. His gaze narrowed to slits as she offered him a tight smug smile. It was never wise to reveal one’s feelings towards a woman, especially one like Jolin Crymble who would use it back at him at the earliest opportunity. Christ, he was certainly being punished if he was truly falling for such a woman. A woman who nettled him beyond belief, and yet he could not help but feel more enthralled by her with every passing second.

  “And,” she was saying. “I would not like you to leave just yet.” She nibbled on her bottom lip a moment and looked past him. “Besides, I refuse to be the clichéd miss and pretend that I do not care about you as well. Which is precisely why I’m standing here right now, at this very moment, blabbering like a magpie, hoping that you’ll just give up with this act of escaping me and just…talk to me. I’m curious, that’s all. I want to know what--”

  Tethran held his hand up, closing his eyes at the same time. She really did mean to talk him into submission, didn’t she? “I will stay.”

  Her eyes lit up like a full moon on a winter’s night. “Excellent. I’ll get dressed and bother Mrs. Smythe for breakfast.”

  “No. I will see to it.” She gave him an odd stare and he rolled his eyes to the heavens. “God, woman, I’ll be back. You have my word. Besides, you need to stay here and rest. I’ll see about getting some fresh salve for the bruise…and a maid to change the bedding.”

  Jolin’s gaze darted to the evident red stain on the white line sheets. “Yes. But don’t you think they’ll--”

  “I’ll say I’d reopened a cut on my leg.” The last thing he needed was for Jolin to be at the centre of any gossip. It was bad enough that he’d taken her innocence. Now, he only wished to make it right with her. Somehow… Tethran’s gaze flicked to her bruised jaw. The ugly mark was a striking contrast against her lovely creamy skin. He only wished he had found her sooner last night. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “You aren’t the one who’d struck me.” She took his hand and placed it against her good cheek, before turning her face into it and kissing his palm. “You came before any true damage was done and for that I’m truly grateful.”

  The thought that she didn’t think the injustice done to her face--hell, t
hat another man had dared lain his filthy paws on her--wasn’t true damage, only made him angrier and…saddened over the entire situation. Tethran shook his head. “I should not have let you have your own way last night. I should have tied you that damn bedpost--”

  “But you wouldn’t have done so and you didn’t. I can’t change what happened. And neither can you. But I can say that I’m sorry. I wasn’t…I really hadn’t been thinking clearly. So believe me, your guilt is unwarranted.”

  His heart thudded in his chest and he trailed his fingers over her cheek and down her neck. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

  Her head canted, studying him, but not before a rosy blush crept into her cheeks, seeping down the column of her throat. “Which means you do plan on kissing me again?”

  Tethran grinned at the uncertainty in her voice. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. And I still do, Jolin. Never doubt that.”

  She smiled. “Can we do…what we did again?”

  Heat flushed through his blood, spreading like wildfire to his groin. Fighting back his own lust, Tethran swallowed and lifted her up off her feet, setting her aside carefully. He had no intention of walking downstairs with a stiff erection tenting the front of his trousers. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  He strode for the door and twisted the knob.

  “Tethran?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you plan on approaching Sinclair before you return?”

  His shoulders sagged. So that meddlesome Mrs. Smythe told her… “Yes. I do.”

  “I should like to see him as well. To know that his sister is so near and yet…” Her voice trailed off on a shaky note.

  Tethran’s chest tightened and he glanced around at her, Jolin’s face pinched with melancholy. The woman was most likely blaming herself for not being able to discover Josephine last night. But none of it was her fault. None.

  And he would make her see that, he would. Right after he had a talk with Sinclair.

  TWENTY-ONE

  He found his friend crouched in an old dilapidated steel shop, some distance from the tavern, studiously sharpening what looked to be a new blade. If Sinclair even the slightest clue that Tethran was hovering in the doorway, he did not show it. But from where he stood, Tethran could make out the purple bruise circling Sinclair’s right eye, the sight of it stirring a sharp pang of remorse in his gut. In truth, Tethran wasn’t sorry for decking the man. He’d been angry, and perhaps rightly so. He only wished he hadn’t swung that hard. Clenching his jaws, he gazed around the interior of the shop. It was a small space that housed only a broken down chair, a desk that was split in half and several pieces of rusted iron bars scattered across a dusty floor. The air smelt rank; like stale piss and rotting eggs.

  “The scent of this place will likely do a lot more damage than what I did to your eye, you know…”

  Sinclair shrugged, raising the blade at eye-level to inspect it. “How’s Miss Crymble?”

  Tethran shifted on his feet. “Getting on. The bruise will heal.”

  His friend grunted. “Then I’m guessing you’re here to apologize.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not here to--”

  “Then why the hell are you here?” Sinclair rose to his feet and brushed at the front of his trousers.

  “You know full well you deserved that thump.”

  “Did I, really? I never forced her, you know? As much as I hate the fact that she’d gotten hurt, I hadn’t actually wanted anything to happen to the woman.”

  Tethran felt his temper simmer but he fought his best to quell it. “It could have been prevented.”

  “I intend on going back. To the castle, that is. Madame Rafira has her weekly appointment with our beloved alderman Saturday night and I will not be leaving without Josephine.”

  Tethran clamped his mouth shut, burying his hands deep inside the pockets of his trousers. He knew that once Sinclair made up his mind, there was not a living soul who could stop him. But setting foot inside the castle again was even more dangerous now than it had been before. The alderman and his guards must be fully aware by now of the deathly blows Tethran had inflicted on their fellow man. And if Sinclair were to be caught within their ruler’s walls again, he would no doubt be a likely suspect. A suspect the alderman would feel no qualms about throwing into the deepest, darkest dungeon beneath his manse’s floors.

  Cursing below his breath, he grabbed Sinclair by the shoulders. “If the alderman finds you, he’ll count it as a grave offence.”

  Sinclair chuckled wryly. “Believe me, if he does discover me, my sister will be free long before. Whatever it takes, she will not be debased any further now that I’m aware of her being alive all these years.”

  The grip of his right hand tightened on his friend’s arm. “I will come with you, just as I have promised. And we will not get caught, I assure you. I have the rest of my life to live for than to just fling it away with a noose bound tight around my neck.”

  Sinclair eyed him through narrowed eyes, brows slightly raised. “So you’ve finally gotten a taste of our virtuous Miss Crymble then?”

  Tethran’s hands dropped to his side and a muscle flexed in his jaw. “I’ve never appreciated keenness in a friend.”

  An unexpectedly raucous laugh flooded the space. “No wonder you’re in such agreeable spirits. You’re ego has been stroked and your cock has been tendered to. I wonder for how long, though?”

  “How long?” Tethran took a step forward. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Well, I do remember you looking forward to a long-needed retirement. I’m not certain, though, that Miss Crymble is the sort of lady who would be content with being left behind soiled and ruined for any other prospective gentleman.”

  The truth in Sinclair’s words stung sharply, like a double-edged sword being plunged deep inside his gut and yanking out his entrails. Miss Crymble was a lovely woman. That, he could not deny. She was sweet, so bloody sweet, he didn’t think he could ever rid her from his mind. Every curve of her supple body was carved permanently in his mind, and the raw delight he’d found between her thighs was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was like heaven. Looking at her, the feel her warm slender body tucked close in his arms was heaven.

  “When I leave, I’ll be taking Jolin with me.” It wasn’t a choice but a necessity. He’d be the biggest of fools to lose the one woman who had ever genuinely looked at him and not cringe with repulsion. The only one who made him feel more than the cutthroat that he was. Yes, she was different. Different enough for him. And it was a type of different he could live with.

  “ ‘Jolin’, huh? On first-name basis now, are you?” Sinclair smoothed the short crop of beard at his chin and smirked. “You sound confident that she’ll agree.”

  “She will.” His temper was souring now and Sinclair was bent on raising his hackles, he knew it. “Now give the damn matter a rest and come back with me to the tavern. She wishes to speak with you.”

  Sinclair grinned. “Miss Crymble or…Jolin?”

  The corner of his left eye jumped. “I’m starting to think you enjoy the fashion of sporting black eyes. Enough of this. I have pledged to help you rescue your sister but I now find myself obligated to locating Jolin’s father as well. And I will need your assistance.”

  * * *

  Jolin raised a finger to her bruised cheek as she studied her reflection in the bronze looking glass. Goodness, she looked horrid. The salve Tethran had sent up with Mrs.Smythe was wet and shiny over the darkened area but the woman assured her that it would be gone in a couple days time. A couple days seemed like an eternity, though. How was she to sit and wait in this room for days when there were greater matters to be dealt with? Like worrying over her father’s whereabouts and wondering about Sinclair’s enslaved sister? Jolin shook her head. The dealings of Iqa City were certainly a far cry from what she was accustomed to growing up in peaceful Dumbar. Perhaps, tha
t was why her father had chosen that village to settle in. But she knew now that no matter how well-cooked a meat may be, just a pinch of salt was bound to add a little savour. And she supposed it was never wise to know only the good and never have a glimpse of the bad, for it is the bad that often makes one stronger.

  “You should eat up,” came Mrs. Smythe’s voice. Jolin blinked and saw the woman’s reflection come up just behind her. “The bruise will still be there five minutes from now, no matter how long you’d like to watch it.”