Claiming the Courtesan

Her stomach clenched with renewed terror, filling her mouth with a bitter taste. But beneath the terror lurked other emotions, emotions a woman such as she could never acknowledge.

This was probably—hopefully—the last time she’d see the Duke of Kylemore. While escaping him had never been so necessary, the thought made her want to keen in sorrow.

She was going mad. She had to be. During the year Kylemore had been her lover, they had enjoyed untold sexual adventures. And her deeper self had remained completely untouched. When he’d stolen her away from her home a matter of days ago, she’d hated and feared him.

So when had that lean face with its controlled, passionate mouth become so precious?

He’d snatched her from her home. Forced himself on her. Ignored everything she wanted. Wrung a response from her she’d been determined not to give.

She had cause to loathe him—as she’d unequivocally loathed him on the journey from Whitby. He was a selfish brute who deserved to hang for his crimes.

He was a lonely man tormented by harrowing memories she couldn’t begin to imagine.

And last night, he’d listened to her sordid history and told her she was magnificent.

“I will not countenance this,” she whispered aloud as she crawled stealthily from her hiding place. “I will not.”

Muscles held tense too long protested as she stood upright. She placed a trembling hand on her lower back as she stretched. All the while, her eyes strained after the direction the duke had taken.

Dear Lord, how could she feel this way? And about that ruthless devil Kylemore, of all men.

Pray heaven all this uncomfortable soul-searching ended when she was free. She’d resume the life she’d planned, and this fraught interlude would fade into just an unpleasant memory.

Revealing her past had been a huge mistake. She and Kylemore now shared an emotional link that might prove hard to break although in time, she would break it.

She must break it.

She collected her bundle of food from behind the bushes. Her empty stomach growled, but she ignored it, determined to conserve her meager rations.

For a long while, she stared blankly at the cliff, trying to reawaken her enthusiasm for a life devoted to good works and independence. But her mind filled instead with images of the duke’s courageous battle against his demons and how that courage melted into sweet need when he rested in her arms.

For God’s sake, leave me in peace, Kylemore.

She inhaled deeply to banish her lover’s persistent ghost, and her eyes sharpened on the mountainside. If she took her chances scrambling over some steep rocks, she might find a way up. The cliff offered nothing so friendly as a path, but perhaps she could use the jagged ledges.

She had to try. With the duke ahead and Hamish behind, this was her only chance to leave this cursed valley and with it, her agonizing confusion.

She began to climb, using her hands on the rough stones.

Midafternoon, the rain set in, as Kylemore had known it would. Cold, miserable Scottish rain that seeped into his bones. Chilly, soaking rain that suited his all-encompassing despair.

Somehow she’d escaped him. His damned complacency might have signed her death warrant.

No, he had to keep believing she was alive. He willed her to stay alive.

“She hasnae turned back tae the house,” Hamish said, riding up. He passed Kylemore a thick coat and a hat similar to the ones he now wore. “I circled through the forest on the way here. There’s nae sign of her. The lassie couldnae grow wings and fly away, could she?”

Kylemore tugged on the welcome dry clothing. “I’d not put anything past her.”

He looked around in helpless rage. Didn’t the girl realize the danger? The temperature was dropping. If she was still out after dark, who knew what state she’d be in by morning?

“Where the hell can she be?” he growled. “She can’t have got this far on foot.”

Hamish’s voice remained calm, as it had throughout the day’s frantic searching. “Angus and Andy are at Kilorton Pass. If the lassie takes tae the hill roa

d, they’ll catch her.”

“We’ve missed something,” Kylemore said grimly. Tannasg shifted restlessly as his master’s hands clenched hard on the reins. “She’s no soft city puss. She grew up on a farm. Perhaps she’s managed to climb out of the glen. I’ve been caught out underestimating her before.”