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three times, then slanted to take hers in a gentle kiss. She’d never been kissed before, not really. She had expected to feel disgust, loathing, revulsion. Instead, she felt out of breath, warm. His mouth was a brand, hot and persistent. His lips coaxed and caressed hers, sent shivers down her spine. He smelled of fresh air, tasted slightly of brandy. When his lips parted hers and his tongue stroked inside her mouth, the shock of it sent her senses reeling. Alarmed by her body’s response, Brighid balled her hands into fists and pushed against his chest. But he was a man, full-grown and strong, and she knew she would not be able to resist him.
    He held her fast, his body hard and hot against hers. His kisses captured her cries of protest, as his hands sought the fastenings of her gown. “I know you’re afraid. I know you don’t want to share my bed.” The words were whispered against her cheek so softly she wondered if he’d really spoken. Why had he told her this? Did he want her to know he had no qualms about taking an unwilling woman? Hatred surged from the pit of her stomach. “I’m not afraid, Sasanach.” But she was.
    He pulled the gown down over her shoulders. It slid to the floor, puddled at her feet.
    She stood now, breasts bare, dressed only in her corset, petticoat, and chemise. In her fear, she struck at him—hard. “No!”
    Neither the blow nor her plea had any effect. He captured her wrists in one hand, pinned them against his chest.
    She struggled to pull away, but found herself hauled up tightly against him.
    His lips brushed over hers, then began to taste her cheeks, her hair. “You smell like roses.” His voice was thick, husky. Then it again dropped to a whisper. “I’m not going to force myself on you, Brighid, but you must play along. I fear he is watching.”
    Chapter Four
    Jamie felt her stiffen, saw her gaze dart to the comers of the room.
    “Wh-where—“ He held her still, brushed her lips with his, whispered, “Shh, love. Say nothing. Trust me.” Fury flashed into her eyes. “Trust you—“ She tried to pull away.
    “I warn you not to fight me.” This he said aloud. “You cannot win, and I’ve no wish to use my strength against you.”
    She stilled. Jamie could see the confusion and fear in her eyes, felt an unexpected stab of tenderness. It had been years since he’d felt anything for a woman. He cursed Sheff for putting him—for putting her—in this position. Then he cursed himself. It was his unexpected and unfathomable reaction to her that had drawn Sheff’s attention to her in the first place. He bore at least some responsibility for her safety.
    He turned her around, began to unlace her corset. Bending down, he kissed the tender flesh of her nape and spoke for her ears alone. “These walls are riddled with holes. I will do all I can to help you escape, but you must play along. I am not your enemy.”
    The corset fell to the carpet.
    She quickly covered her breasts with the cloth of her chemise. “You are English.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Why would you help me?”
    Jamie turned her to face him again, pulled her against him so he could speak to her without being overheard. “I have never taken a woman against her will, and I don’t mean to start with you.”
    He felt a tremor pass through her, felt the heat within him rise in response.
    This was not going to be easy.
    His gut told him Sheff was watching from the room next door. Jamie thought he’d heard the door to the room, where no one was staying, open and close just after he’d pushed Sheff out. He remembered well enough the stories he’d heard of Sheff s father. The elder Lord Byerly had watched his guests and servants disrobe, bathe, and tup through small openings in the walls and had been sexually gratified. He’d watched his wife and servants give birth and had enjoyed that, too. He’d eventually shared his secret with his eldest son, who had told Jamie as if it were some grand