Read Online A Highlander for Christmas by Debbie Macomber, Christina Skye - Free Book Online
Authors: Debbie Macomber, Christina Skye
Ads: Link
very cold. “They won’t deck me.”
She stared at his broad shoulders. “No, I suppose not. But I still don’t see why you’re making this your business.”
The hell of it was, Jared didn’t know either. He told himself the question was irrelevant. “You underestimate yourself, Ms. Kincade. Now go .”
“He’s right, Mag. Come on.”
“Stop!” the man in front barked. “They’re going out the back. Get the shot, damn it!”
Jared produced a very pleasant smile as he heard Maggie and her cousin slip from the banquette and scramble toward the kitchen. He was still smiling when his arm rose and the first camera hit the floor, reduced to twisted metal and shattered glass beneath his foot.
“Are you nuts? We’re the press. You can’t do that.”
“As a matter of fact, I can.” Suddenly Jared was back in Thailand, hearing the thud of bamboo on human flesh. He knew the blind fury of being hounded, prodded, and tormented because of the color of his skin and words on his passport. As a captive in box number 225, he had reached out from his prison, aching to touch fresh air and silence. Through the rusted metal bars he had smelled the night air, rich with jasmine and a hint of orchids.
Neither could hide the stench of sweat and fear.
When his hands had clenched on the rusty bars, he’d felt the trickle of blood. Then he’d heard the sharp stamp of feet. They’d come ahead of schedule. Hands on the bars, key in the lock. Taunts in a foreign tongue.
Then the bamboo. Pain that did not end.
That night he had been almost too tired to fight. He’d almost forgotten what he was fighting for, but he had not turned away. There had been no mercy in the face before him. No weakness in the hands that gripped the length of bamboo with its point of rough metal When the questions came in an angry staccato of Thai, Chinese, and perfect English, he had given them the silence they hated.
So the bamboo fell. And fell. And fell.
He had made no sound. The act had cost Jared him dearly, but irritating his attackers was his only pleasure. After an hour, he had prayed for death, but they wouldn’t even give him that.
Fighting the pain, he’d thought of stars: Vega. Sirius. Altair. As the torment broke over him, he had tried to remember the stars shimmering in the loch where he had grown up. The memories were all that had kept him from screaming, until the darkness finally enfolded his tortured body.
Until the next beating.
The man in box number 225 had known what it was like to give up hope, but Jared wasn’t going to let Maggie Kincade know that kind of despair
“Wise guy, are ya? Let’s see how you like this, pal.”
Jared moved first. He put his whole weight into the punch and enjoyed the feeling of his fist as it struck the cursing, ruddy face below a pair of furtive eyes that had a nasty mind.
Some favors were definitely more pleasant than others, he decided.
~ ~ ~
Maggie’s heart was still pounding as she pushed open the door to her apartment, the vellum envelope with the gold coronet clutched in her hands. “Did you see that, Chessa? He broke both their cameras.”
“That’s not all he broke, and he didn’t even raise a sweat. Incredible physique.” Chessa tossed down her coat, smiling at the memory. “I think I could almost love that guy.” Abruptly she rounded on Maggie. “Now open the bloody thing. And don’t tell me you need more time.”
Maggie stared at the heavy envelope. She had submitted two samples of her work months ago as part of her application for an international jewelry exhibition sponsored by the twelfth Lord Draycott and his American wife. After weeks of waiting and worrying, she had forgotten all about the submission.
Now she regretted the impulse to submit her designs. She’d had too much failure lately, and she didn’t need any more. “Don’t get excited. They’re probably telling me not to give up my day job. Politely worded, of course. The English are good at
She stared at his broad shoulders. “No, I suppose not. But I still don’t see why you’re making this your business.”
The hell of it was, Jared didn’t know either. He told himself the question was irrelevant. “You underestimate yourself, Ms. Kincade. Now go .”
“He’s right, Mag. Come on.”
“Stop!” the man in front barked. “They’re going out the back. Get the shot, damn it!”
Jared produced a very pleasant smile as he heard Maggie and her cousin slip from the banquette and scramble toward the kitchen. He was still smiling when his arm rose and the first camera hit the floor, reduced to twisted metal and shattered glass beneath his foot.
“Are you nuts? We’re the press. You can’t do that.”
“As a matter of fact, I can.” Suddenly Jared was back in Thailand, hearing the thud of bamboo on human flesh. He knew the blind fury of being hounded, prodded, and tormented because of the color of his skin and words on his passport. As a captive in box number 225, he had reached out from his prison, aching to touch fresh air and silence. Through the rusted metal bars he had smelled the night air, rich with jasmine and a hint of orchids.
Neither could hide the stench of sweat and fear.
When his hands had clenched on the rusty bars, he’d felt the trickle of blood. Then he’d heard the sharp stamp of feet. They’d come ahead of schedule. Hands on the bars, key in the lock. Taunts in a foreign tongue.
Then the bamboo. Pain that did not end.
That night he had been almost too tired to fight. He’d almost forgotten what he was fighting for, but he had not turned away. There had been no mercy in the face before him. No weakness in the hands that gripped the length of bamboo with its point of rough metal When the questions came in an angry staccato of Thai, Chinese, and perfect English, he had given them the silence they hated.
So the bamboo fell. And fell. And fell.
He had made no sound. The act had cost Jared him dearly, but irritating his attackers was his only pleasure. After an hour, he had prayed for death, but they wouldn’t even give him that.
Fighting the pain, he’d thought of stars: Vega. Sirius. Altair. As the torment broke over him, he had tried to remember the stars shimmering in the loch where he had grown up. The memories were all that had kept him from screaming, until the darkness finally enfolded his tortured body.
Until the next beating.
The man in box number 225 had known what it was like to give up hope, but Jared wasn’t going to let Maggie Kincade know that kind of despair
“Wise guy, are ya? Let’s see how you like this, pal.”
Jared moved first. He put his whole weight into the punch and enjoyed the feeling of his fist as it struck the cursing, ruddy face below a pair of furtive eyes that had a nasty mind.
Some favors were definitely more pleasant than others, he decided.
~ ~ ~
Maggie’s heart was still pounding as she pushed open the door to her apartment, the vellum envelope with the gold coronet clutched in her hands. “Did you see that, Chessa? He broke both their cameras.”
“That’s not all he broke, and he didn’t even raise a sweat. Incredible physique.” Chessa tossed down her coat, smiling at the memory. “I think I could almost love that guy.” Abruptly she rounded on Maggie. “Now open the bloody thing. And don’t tell me you need more time.”
Maggie stared at the heavy envelope. She had submitted two samples of her work months ago as part of her application for an international jewelry exhibition sponsored by the twelfth Lord Draycott and his American wife. After weeks of waiting and worrying, she had forgotten all about the submission.
Now she regretted the impulse to submit her designs. She’d had too much failure lately, and she didn’t need any more. “Don’t get excited. They’re probably telling me not to give up my day job. Politely worded, of course. The English are good at
Similar Books
