Read Online Captive Kisses (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) by Jennifer Blake - Free Book Online

the pain in your foot that’s
making you so waspish this morning.”
    “You assume wrong.”
    “Then it doesn’t hurt? That’s good.”
    It might be better to let him think that the injury was
worse than it was. If he saw her having difficulty getting around, then he
might be less watchful, less on his guard. “I didn’t say that.”
    “I’ll look at it after breakfast.”
    “That — won’t be necessary.”
    “Kelly, my sweet,” he said pausing, “are we going to have to
go through all this again?”
    “Not if you don’t try to force me to do things I don’t want.
And I am not your sweet,” she answered with a lift of her chin and a quick
glance at him from the corner of her eye.
    He ignored the last “Even if it’s for your own good? For the
next few days, we are going to have to stay here together. If you will accept
that, and stop fighting me, you can still rest and relax, enjoy your vacation.”
    “Relax? After what you have said to me, and done?”
    The incredulity in her voice was not feigned. He frowned. “I
could say you brought it on yourself, but I won’t. I can promise that you will
be completely safe if you will agree to a truce.”
    She sent him a look of scorn. “And I’m to take your word for
that?”
    “I assure you,” he said softly, his grip tightening on the
knife he held until his knuckles gleamed white, “that you need nothing more.”
    Kelly felt her nerves tighten as she recognized the thread
of danger in his tone. Once before she had dared to doubt his word. It seemed
he did not take such slurs lightly. “For how long?”
    “Until the end of the week.”
    “Couldn’t you wind up whatever it is that you are doing
before then, and let me have the last few days of my time off in peace?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    She should have known. Despite the firm sound of his voice
just now, he had mentioned, when he was talking to the guard, the possibility
of it being as much as two weeks before the payoff came. A frown between her
eyes, she took up the bacon and set it to drain on the paper towel. Cracking
eggs into the hot fat, she said, “There’re still a few things I don’t
understand.”
    “Is it necessary that you should?”
    “You would prefer that I take things on faith, as if you
were God?”
    He let his breath out slowly. “I’m sure it’s too much to expect,
but it would be convenient.”
    He stepped to slide the toast under the broiler. As he
straightened, the light from the window over the sink slanted across the planes
of his face with sharp clarity, highlighting the small split in the smooth line
of his upper lip, and the long, raw-looking mark of a nail burn down his neck.
The sight of the damage she had inflicted gave her no joy, though it did have
the effect of making her lose track, temporarily, of what she had been saying.
    She did not speak again until they were seated at the
breakfast table. The savory smell of the bacon and hot buttered toast was
usually enough to spark her appetite, but this morning all she could do was
push the food around on her plate. Charles’s appreciation of his breakfast was
unimpaired. He ate the two eggs she had cooked him with every sign of
enjoyment, then spread grape jelly on the remaining pieces of toast, topping
them off with another cup of hot coffee.
    She shot him a quick look from under her lashes. Choosing
her words carefully, she said, “If you won’t tell me who you are, can you at
least tell me where you come from?”
    “There’s nothing mysterious about that,” he said after a
moment. “I’m from south Louisiana, just above New Orleans to be exact.”
    She had thought as much. “Your accent, then, is —”
    “French Creole, which means —”
    “I know. Of French descent born in a foreign country,
foreign to France, that is.”
    “Good for you. Most people seem to think it has something to
do with mixed heritage, mixed blood. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
    His praise was oddly