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soon to have this talk. She’d run if she knew the truth — find the first boat back to America, if she couldn’t find a plane. “First, ye will need to learn how to use a gun.”
    “I already know how to use a gun.”
    He laughed. This tiny woman knew how to use a gun? He didn’t believe it.
    “I had to pay for college somehow.” Her feet were set apart, her stance daring him to disbelieve her. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she leaned slightly back onto one hip. Her entire demeanor screamed at him. She was waiting for him to deny it, waiting for the chance to show him she could.
    “I think ye have a few tricks up yer sleeve.”
    “Aye, that I do.” She mimicked a strong Scottish Brogue.
    No, he was better off not underestimating her. Brandir’s daughter was a strong one indeed.
     

 
    Chapter 10
     
    As Amelia lay in bed that night, she wondered about the men that had promised to protect her. Were they good men? Could they be good men if they had kidnapped her?
    “Am I being Stockholm Syndrome’d?” Rolling over, she punched the pillow. It was too hard. Hers at home was softer. “I have to be if I’m going to put up with this mess.” Sighing deeply, she looked around the room they had designated for her. It felt like a prison cell. Bad things were capable of happening here. The room was too opulent. She wasn’t an opulent person. What if she… What if she grew to like it? “Oh, God… I have to get out of here.”
    Throwing back the covers, she jumped out of bed. She wrapped up in the robe Fiona had left for her and jammed her feet into her shoes. Running across the room, sliding on the slick floor, she reached the door to the balcony in record time. She threw it open and stepped out into the cold night air. The people that had been milling about had gone back indoors, with the exception of a few die-hards. They cheered in excitement as they saw her, stopping her in her tracks. “They’re going to wake everyone…” Waving and smiling grimly, she walked backwards back inside. As she closed the door, she hung her head.
    “You really thought that would work out for you?”
    Spinning around she came face to face with Jacob. He was so close that she could see his eyes dilate as he looked at her chest. Looking down, she felt her face flame with embarrassment. The robe had come open, revealing an expanse of flesh — the crest of her breasts. Her nipples, visible through the sheer fabric of the silk nightgown, were erect from the cold.
    “Och, lass, yer taunting me.”
    “I don’t taunt anyone.”
    “Ye taunt me. Ye have fer a verra long time. I would like to touch ye, Amelia. I dinnae think ye know what ye do to me. Will ye allow me to touch ye?” He lowered his voice.
    She wanted to scream yes. Her brain seemed to shut down and her body took over. What would it be like to have his hands on her? What would it be like for him to touch her in her most intimate places — places that grew wet at just the thought?
    Before she could stop herself, she nodded. She watched with rapt anticipation as he reached up and ran the back of his fingers over her left nipple. The touch so light that it felt like a soft kiss. “I may have promised to protect ye, but I will punish ye if ye try to run again.” He cupped the same breast and her stomach dropped. He used his thumb to circle her nipple, eliciting a gasp from her.
    Why was she allowing this? Why was she so drawn to this man? What had he done to her to make her ache for him? There had to be some explanation for this insanity…
    “Why are you Stockholm Syndrome’ing me?” His motions stilled and she instantly regretted the question.
    “Stockholm Syndrome’ing…?” His eyes narrowed. Amelia knew she had angered him. “Amelia, never have I needed to Stockholm Syndrome a lass into my bed. They all come willingly. I will nae touch ye again, unless ye beg for it.”
    Jerking back from him, she wrapped the robe tightly about her. “I will never