Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin 1)

“You can have the bedroom,” he said, then made the ultimate mistake.

A few steps to reach her and he caught her shoulder. He felt the fine bones beneath his hand and the soft brush of her hair across his knuckles. He also felt endless, unshakable rejection. He’d made a right shambles of this, bugger him for a benighted fool.

With a violence that shocked him, she struck his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

She took a pace back, another, then whirled to dash headlong into the corridor beyond.

Chapter Eleven

Sidonie ran blindly, stumbling in frantic haste. Anything to escape Merrick and terrible, dangerous temptation. Reason disintegrated. There was only primitive instinct. All she knew was the need to separate herself from what he’d done to her in that elaborate bed.

Through the hallway, carpet brushing bare feet. Down the staircase, over the chill of stone. To the cavernous great hall with its ghosts and faded tapestries. Like a hunted animal, she darted through dark rooms, thankfully empty and easy to navigate. The main door was locked every night at sunset and was too heavy for her, but she could reach the grounds through the rear of the castle.

“Sidonie!”

From upstairs she heard Merrick calling. Part of her knew she acted like a madwoman and she should end her lunatic dash. If she said no and meant it, he’d leave her alone. She trusted him that far.

It was herself she didn’t trust.

Not after those astonishing moments in his arms. He’d made her his creature and she couldn’t bear it. She’d spent her life swearing she’d never become some man’s slave. Yet she verged on infatuation with Jonas Merrick. A devilish, vengeful, damaged man. She needed to regain the woman she’d been before she arrived, and banish the wanton creature who moaned and writhed under Merrick’s skillful ministrations.

She tore at the wrought-iron handle on the terrace doors. She struggled for breath. “Open, curse you, open,” she sobbed, fingernails breaking as she scrabbled at the latch.

A flash of lightning revealed the key in the lock. Of course. With a shaking hand, she turned the key, shoved the glass door open, and dashed into the storm. Immediately, the wind barreled into her like a charging elephant.

“Sidonie, for God’s sake, come back!”

Merrick’s voice was nearer. She guessed he was in the hall.

“Sidonie, where are you? For heaven’s sake, there’s no need for this.”

She couldn’t look into Merrick’s eyes and remember him doing… that. With a strangled sob, she banged the door shut behind her and stumbled into rain-swept darkness.

Damn it, where in Hades had she got to?

Jonas heard the door crash from the back of the house and his heart dived into his gut. Bloody, bloody hell—if Sidonie ran outside, she was in danger. More danger than he presented. Horrific images flooded his mind of her lying lifeless under the cliffs.

He grabbed a lantern from the hall. His hands shook as he lit it. Every second seemed an hour. He snatched up the greatcoat he’d left draped over a worn oak chair. Roughly he tugged it on as he rushed across the flagstones on bare feet.

Praying Sidonie hadn’t got far on such a wild night, he dashed through the house and burst out into the storm. Freezing wind and rain pummeled him. He staggered and wondered how a woman, even one as stalwart as Sidonie, had made headway.

“Sidonie!” The howling wind whipped his words back into his teeth. He struggled to raise the lantern, to locate her. But the light offered feeble defense against inky darkness.

Hell, hell, hell.

Where the devil was she? She could have run in any direction. But he had a bleak premonition she’d head for the cliffs. Cursing, he slipped and slid across the lawn, hoping she’d gone this way, hoping she hadn’t. Progress was slow and he fell on his arse more than once.

“Sidonie!” Good God, surely she must know he wouldn’t hurt her.

But then she’d trusted him not to force her and he’d come damned near. For one breathless moment while she’d quivered under him in a climax sweeter than any he’d ever witnessed, he’d poised to plunge between her thighs. He was a savage. Guilt strangled his gut.

He should have left her alone.

The rain drenching his hair and pouring down his neck, the stabbing cold, all seemed inadequate punishment for the evil he’d done. It was too late to change what had happened. He hoped it wasn’t too late altogether. “Sidonie!”

If she didn’t make it back safely…

He refused to complete the thought. He’d find her. Or die trying.