Authors Note: This took a while to be posted because I’m currently going through finals. Anyway I know there are a lot of scenes with Lo and Ro in his bedchamber, but I wanted this fic to be mainly about the interaction between them. Don’t worry they’ll be leaving his quarters soon.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following story
Dedication: To Pari, Tigerstorm, Tempest, Vixen, Luly and Candice. Thanx 4 the reviews. By the way Tempest, I’m still waiting for my update on “Vermillion Nights,” just thought I’d throw that in there.
Chapter 5:
Cat and Mouse
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“I told you, I do not know where he is. I am not this Megs you speak of. I am Lady Linnet Mulgrave of…”
“Of London, on Craven Road, a recent widow…”
“Yes,” Ororo replied.
“It’s cold in the dungeon Megs. Dank and Dark. And Lonely. If you’re lucky enough to have a cell to yourself.”
“I just arrived on your isle. Check the captains log if you don’t believe me” she pleaded. “There will be record of my passage. The ship, it’s called the Melody. Its captain is named Mr. Beuren. He will remember me.”
“I’m sure he would,” Logan skimmed his thumb along her throat. Damn it was soft. “And I suspect you called yourself Mrs. Mulgrave?”
“Of course, it is my name.”
“And you came all the way from London alone?”
“No, I had … a companion,” she replied.
Logan raised his brows. “Companion?”
“I asked Peter to accompany me. I had never been to Scotland before.”
“Peter?” he asked. He had no particular reason for interest, of course, but he was curious as to the relationship she had with this “companion.”
She blinked. Her eyes were enormously wide. She must not have been more than 24 years.
“I commissioned him to accompany me,” she said.
Running his hand down her back, Logan felt a shiver at the descent. “You hired a man to accompany you?”
Her gaze shifted slightly. Perhaps it was the first sign of weakness in her story. He began to see the first signs of uncertainty.
“Yes. I heard the wharves of Scotland are dangerous so I opted for a … Bodyguard of sorts.”
“I can’t imagine you had to pay him much,” he said and drew his hand away from the base of her back.
“I am not a thief, regardless of what you may think. I am an honest citizen with good income. I paid him quite…”
“I meant I doubt you would have to pay any man to guard your body so long as his treasures are hidden elsewhere.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it suddenly. “I will pay you.” Her tone was crisp and self-assured.
He raised a brow. Some had called him a pirate. Others a privateer. He tried not to take offense to either. Piracy, after all was as honest as most enterprises. “Pay me?”
“For my release,” she explained.
“Perhaps we can come to an agreement. What can you offer?”
He noticed that her breathing had stopped completely. Perhaps he was watching her bosom a bit more closely than necessary, but it seemed as if she was hanging on his every word.
“What do you want?”
“Creed’s whereabouts,” Logan stated plainly.
“Damn you!” she swore swinging her hand up to slap him.
He caught it easily, inches from his cheek. Passion. It shone in her eyes. ‘Did Creed evoke such passion in women? Even women like this small cool thief? Had Jean been passionate in his arms?’ he questioned himself.
“I know no one named Creed!” she hissed.
He held his temper. “Then how will you pay your ransom?”
“Ransom?” her face went white and her knees buckled.
He scooped an arm around her back, pressing her up against his chest.
“Ransom?” her voice was weak.
“For your safe return to London.”
“Oh, yes,” she nodded and straightened, but he did not let her go, for she felt wonderfully soft against the bare skin of his chest. “I…” she cleared her throat and tried to move away. He tightened his embrace. “My family…will…you please…” her breathing came hard and fast. “Let me go.”
“But you will give me what I want” Suddenly he realized what he wanted had changed. Leaning forward he kissed the corner of her mouth and slowly drew back.
“Don’t do that,” she whispered.
“This?” he asked pressing his mouth to hers, swiped his tongue gently along the crease.
She pushed against his chest. Slight pain shot through him. “Don’t,” she insisted, but he barely noticed, for she had lost the thin scarf that barely covered her. And now they stood bare chest to bare chest.
“You don’t like it?” he asked.
“I…” she was breathing hard. “It’s not right.”
“Better that the dungeon.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“A man might take offense to having his proposition called a threat, Megs.”
“Proposition?”
“I admit, Scotland’s prisoners might miss your company should you choose to stay with me.”
He watched the blood drain from her face, and perhaps a niggle of guilt seeped into his consciousness. Aye, he was threatening her, compromising her. But he was not doing it for his own passion’s sake. He was no ugly ogre she must choose, and if she spent a night or so in his arms, she would surely leave her loyalty to Creed behind.
“I…” she shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Cannot what?’ he asked and bent to kiss her throat. She caught her breath on an unusually high note. He pressed his kisses lower, his hands traveling down the smooth side of her glossy body.
“Quit!!” she ordered and thumped her hands on his chest.
Sharp blinding pain coursed through him and he was forced to let her go. “I would not hurt you.”
“I cannot,” she said
“Why?”
“Surely it’s obvious to you.”
“It isn’t,” replied Logan.
“It would be wrong.”
He ground his teeth. “How did creed win such loyalty?”
“Creed again! Are you mad!” screamed Ororo.
“Aye, perhaps. Which do you choose Megs?” Anger felt hot in his gut.
“Leave me be,” she backed away. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
He laughed as he followed her. “I seem to have a hole in my chest bonny Megs. That alone surely warrants a hanging.”
“Hanging!”
“I gave you a choice.”
“Choice! A choice between the impossible and…” she shouted.
“So ‘tis impossible to share my bed?”
“It is impossible to tell you that which I do not know.”
Damn her for choosing Creed. “So you would rather die that cuckold him?”
“Who?”
He managed a smile. “Your lover.”
“I have no lover.”
“So you are untried?” there was a slight whisp of hopefulness in his voice.
“Y… No. Of course not. I was…” her breath was coming hard. She was pressed against the desk. Her spine bent to avoid him. “I was married.”
“Of course.” His gut twisted. “And yet you choose a dungeon to a night with me. Not very flattering, love,” he said as he slipped his palm across her cheek.
“Let me go please.”
“Tell me where he is Megs. Tell me and no harm will come to you. I promise.”
“I cannot,” she insisted.
He remained as he was for the moment then straightened and nodded once. “Good luck to you then.”
“Summers,” he bellowed.
The door opened in an instant, Logan had ordered him to take a meal, but perhaps the good lieutenant had no need for sustenance as long as he could serve the Lord of Scotland.
“You have need for me my lord?”
Logan’s stomach knotted. “Yes.” he said. “Take this maid to the dungeon until she sees fit to talk.”
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