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Authours note: I know my characters are to have Scottish accents but I just couldn’t help slipping in a few “Darlins.”

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following story


Chapter 3:
Trapped

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He was keeping to his story then. Whoever had put him up to this had told him to be very convincing. But if they meant to fool her, they should have found a more believable pirate.

“You Lie,” she said simply.

Something flashed in his eyes but he still smiled, “Do I?” he asked, and rose abruptly to his feet? Pacing to the dark, oversized desk, he placed his goblet atop it and turned back towards her. “I suppose you should know a liar when you meet one, aye Megs?”

There was a sudden intensity about him that belied his grin. An intensity that did nothing to soothe her own unease. She tightened her grip in the bed sheets and watched him carefully. “My name is not Megs.”

“Isn’t it?” Pacing, he sat again, closer still, so close, in fact that she could smell the wine on his breath,, could feel the warmth of his body against her arm. “Then who are you?"

Xavier had told her the tale of his journey to the tavern, in which he found her double, many times. Had told her of his meeting with Bridget, and from those tales they had secretly laid their plans. The girl would sit on HER throne for a few short days while Ororo traveled to Scotland. Yes, she had planned to meet with Lord Howlett, and if he was the man she judged him to be, she would offer a marriage alliance. For that was the only way to fulfill her uncle’s requirements. She had to marry… and marry soon. But her choice had to be a quick one.

Yes, had planned only a quick trip to Scotland and find herself a suitable husband. But she no longer had such plans, for she had witnessed the Pirate Lord’s true nature, had seen the light in his eyes at the execution. She would not bind herself to such a man no matter how dire the circumstances. Lord Lenshur’s assessments were right.

Howlett was a scoundrel and a barbarian, hardly above the rumored murder of his young wife. Ororo had greatly misjudged him, had hung her hopes on a dream. Despite his ability to rule a country, he was nothing like her dead uncle, the old King

“It should not take you so long to remember your name, Darlin’?

“Unless the bump on your head has addled your thought,” reaching out he touched the side of her skull. She winced, surprised by the pain, but in a moment, he left the wound and trailed his fingertips along the curve of her ear. The caress was gentle and strangely unnerving. She shivered in its descent. “Have you lost your memory?” he asked.

She said nothing but watched him closely.

“I admit you are prettier than I recall,” he said, and skimmed his knuckle down her cheek to her throat. She shivered, for the sensations were disturbingly erotic, but she found her tongue and spoke coolly.

“We have not met before.”

“Aye, we have lass. Surely you remember. I was just about to board the Skian Dahr with my first mate when you caused a distraction and stole my brooch.”

She started with surprise and he pulled his hand away with a chuckle.

“You are deluded!” she said. “I’m not a thief.”

“Oh but you are,” he said as he stroked her fingers where they clung to the blanket. “You are called Megs and you stole my mother’s brooch off my very chest. T’was quite a bold move,” he smiled. “But you are quite a bold lass, are you not?” His knuckles skimmed along her forearm and up her shoulder.

“I’m not who you think I am!” she said in a rush.

“Truly,” his fingers stopped for a moment. “Then who are you?”

“Who are you?” her words were breathy and he laughed.

“I believe we have covered those grounds already Darlin’.”

“You’re not Logan Howlett!”

“And all the while I thought I was,” he said, and let his fingers drift southward.

“Don’t touch me!” she warned. “Unless you wish to pay a heavy price.”

He raised his brows. “You are daring- for a liar and a thief who has been caught dead to rights.”

“As I have said…”

“You are not Megs,” he finished for her. “Then who are you? Her twin sister perhaps?”

“I know no one named Megs.”

“Lucky for you since she tends to steal from those nearest her. Then again…” He paused to let his gaze slip down her. “I almost think it might be worth the loss now that I see you like this.

She pulled the blankets higher. “Men have died for less insolence.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Yes she was, but she was also no fool to admit it. “I have not stolen from you,” she said evenly, “or any other.”

“No?”

“NO.”

“Then what is your attachment to Creed?”

“Creed,” her mind was still spinning, but she tried to steady it, be smart. “The man that was executed?”

“The man that escaped!” His smile was gone and his words growled.

“I don’t know Creed.”

“Tell me where he is!”

“I do not know Creed,” she repeated.

She did not see him move but suddenly the blankets were whipped out of her hands and she was left unclothed and uncovered.

“Then I shall have to seek revenge with you,” he said and reached for her.

Terror consumed her. Instantly she leapt to her feet on the bed just as his fingers skimmed her arm.

“Come now Darlin,” he crooned and stepped easily onto the mattress. “It will not be so bad. Surely if you can stand Creed’s touch, you can stand anything.”

“I KNOW NO ONE NAMED CREED! And if you touch me again you will surely be hanged by dawn!”

“Hanged!” he laughed and leapt.

She darted away. He was after her in an instant. She heard his feet hit the floor as she reached the door. Fingers tangled in her hair, snatching her to a halt. She whirled around, slapping wildly, but he was already pulling her towards his chest, muffling her protests, stilling her movements with the strength of his arms around her naked torso.

She struggled but there was no hope. His good looks were locked with determination. She stilled, conserving her strength and engaging her mind. The sound of their breathing was all that could be heard. His grip eased a bit. She didn’t move. At least here, pressed against his body, he could not see her nakedness.

Keeping one arm wrapped around her, he stroked his fingers through her hair, and she realized suddenly that it was completely undone and hung in heavy waves down the length of her back. “Such an odd color” he mumbled. Then the dazed look disappeared from his eyes.

“You’re damned poor at defending yourself, for a thief and a murderer.”

“Murderer!” she reared back, but he eased her against his chest again.

“Perhaps you were jus his accomplice,” he said and skimmed his fingers down her spine to the crease of her buttocks.

She quivered in spite of herself. “Cease!”

“Tell me where he is Megs,” he said, and leaning back, stared into her eyes. Perhaps there was anger there, but another emotion burned brighter, something far more frightening.

“I told you…” she began, but he leaned forward and kissed her.

For a moment she remains frozen in shock, then she shoved with all her might, managing to break free and stumble backward. “How dare you!”

He smiled and stepped forward. “I dare much, and this is but the beginning unless you cooperate.”

She backed away, breathing hard and fighting to control her emotions, to think, to plan. “We do not deal with brigands such as you.”

“We?” He stopped abruptly.

“You’ll get no ransom for me, so you’d just as well let me go.”

“Ransom?” His eyes were narrowed. “Creed would pay for your return?”

She shook her head. Was he trying to trick her into admitting who she really was, or did he truly think her a thief? Was her life in danger or just her pride?

“So your Important to him?” he asked.

She continued to retreat, but her thighs struck something cold. She stopped with a gasp but dared not to look back. Instead she thrust her hand behind her, feeling the smooth edge of a desk. “I don’t know what you are talking about?”

“I’m talking about life Megs,” he said and took a step closer. “Your life. I’m offering it to you in exchange for a small piece of information.”

“I don’t know what you want.” Behind her, her fingers skimmed the surface of the desk.

“I want to know where to find him.” His voice was soft, but the words were gritted. “And that you know. Creed would not waste a prize like you. You’re clever. You care about him. And…” His gaze raked her nakedness. The light in his eyes sparked brighter. “And you are…bonny”

Something cool and hard met her fingertips. She inched breathlessly along an edge.

“No.” his tone was thoughtful, his eyes narrowed. “He will use you again. Believe me, it’s what he’ll do. He will use you and leave you to hang.”

She merely stared, her mind racing along the edge of the unseen object, trying to conjure a image in her head.

“He has abandoned you already.”

She said nothing, and perhaps he took her reticence for disagreement, for he continued on.

“Is he here now then? Bent on saving you?”

The object was strangely shaped. Triangular almost. But not too large, and “ her breath stopped as her thumb brushed the point. It was narrow and deadly sharp.

“Were he in your spot he would give you up in an instant,” Logan said.

She didn’t answer, didn’t breathe.

“He will sacrifice you to save himself.” He shook his head and stepped closer still. “Tell me where he has fled.”

She remained breathlessly silent, then shook her head. “I do not know what you speak of.”

He reached for her with a curse, and in that instant she struck, snatching the instrument blindly from the desk behind her and stabbing it into his chest.





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