Her face was a pale glimmer in the gloom as she turned toward him. “No.”
So that’s the way of it, he thought, with a regret he refused to examine. Apparently, she’d devoted the hours since he’d kissed her to rebuilding her defenses.
What had he expected? That one embrace would turn her into a quivering mass of acquiescence? His gaze dropped to the betrayingly unhappy line of her lips. He’d give up his last hope of heaven to taste that mouth again, which was odd, given that kissing her had never been a particular obsession when she’d been his willing lover.
“I’m afraid the word no lost its power between us when you ran away.” With a roughness born more of his anger with himself than with her, he reached out to grab her hands.
“I will not be bound!” she cried, sliding across the leather seat to avoid him.
The idea of scuffling with her was too undignified to be borne. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He certainly wasn’t afraid of his own reactions to her in a struggle.
“If I have to hurt you, I will,” he said, far from sure it was true.
She treated the threat with the respect it deserved. “Oh, charming.”
My God, but she was brave. All his life, courage was the quality he’d admired most. It was startling to realize at this moment that a lowly strumpet demonstrated more nerve than any man he knew.
He injected a reasonable tone into his voice, recognizing bluster would never succeed—or not without him harming her indeed. And his much-vaunted ruthlessness recoiled utterly at the idea.
A great villain he proved in this drama.
“There is a hot meal, a bath and a necessary awaiting us, madam. I’m sure you are as eager to step out of this coach as I. I am perfectly willing to leave you here under guard while I go inside. But I warn you—we travel the rest of the night and we do not stop. For any reason.”
He sensed she was digesting this information. Eventually, she spoke in a small voice. “I hate to be tied up.”
The conscience he wished he’d left in London with his extravagant town house and dissolute companions pricked him yet again. He fought to bundle it back into the recesses of his black heart before it troubled him further.
“Give me your word you won’t try to escape and you may go free.” Strangely, he believed she’d keep any promise she made, in spite of how she’d tricked and used him.
“I can’t do that,” she said sadly.
“Then put out your hands. I have no wish to coerce you into submission, but I will if I have to.”
“Very well.”
She waited in trembling stillness while he tied her hands and ankles. For all her defiant talk, she was frightened. This time, his conscience didn’t merely prick, it kicked.
“Don’t you want to gag me as well?” Her jeering tone did nothing to hide her misery.
He kept his voice cold. “If you keep sniping at me, I may. So be careful.”
He sat back, wrestling the compulsion to silence her not with a gag but with his mouth on hers. When he knelt at her feet, her teasing scent had swirled around him once more, a sly invitation to take her into his arms and kiss her again. Then move from kissing to full satisfaction.
The carriage lamps outside shed enough light for him to see her brows contract with bewilderment. Kylemore understood her confusion at the seeming concession. But she’d soon find out that no help for a wayward mistress waited where they went tonight.
Verity continued to sit in quivering silence after Kylemore tied her up. From his comments, she guessed they now headed for an inn. A disreputable inn where abducted women created no stir—not exactly unusual on any road north to Gretna Green.
But when the carriage turned off the road, it rolled between gateposts carved with the Kinmurrie golden eagle. It was too dark to see much; the rain had stopped, but the sky remained cloudy. The carriage lamps illuminated thick bushes growing along the edge of the drive. To a woman teetering on the edge of panic, the sight was far from reassuring.
They pulled up before a large country house, and a man rushed forward to open the carriage door. “Welcome, Your Grace. Madame. I
trust your journey hasn’t been too onerous.”
The man had a distinct Scottish brogue. Surely they couldn’t be north of the border yet. Kylemore’s horses were fast, but they would need to fly to manage that feat.
“It’s had its moments,” Kylemore said with an irritating huff of laughter as he stepped out.
A blush rose in her cheeks at the deliberate reminder of how she’d succumbed to him. That melting, manipulative kiss had violated her inner self in a way sex never had. And worse, she suspected her tormentor knew it.