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Authors: Emma Wildes
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comes. When this matter is settled and my uncle freed, we will decide the future.”
Her slim arms went around his neck, and the smile she gave was both wistful and alluring. “Has any woman ever denied you, Ian?”
He grinned. “Not in my memory.”
“Then perhaps that’s what I’ll tell myself.” She touched his cheek and offered her mouth for another kiss. He obliged, pleasure and arousal flooding his body.
This need, he thought, tasting and stroking her even as he carried her across the hall to his bed, is almost frightening.
It was just before dawn, that dead hour between night and day. Leanna stirred and rolled over, seeking the solid warmth of Ian’s body. To her surprise, his arm came around her like a band of iron, and his hand covered her mouth. In her ear, he breathed, “Don’t move or make a sound, love.”
Startled, she came fully awake, obeying his terse order and blinking in the darkness. He let her go but was tense; she could feel the rock- hard bulge of his impressive muscles and hear the steady, increased thud of his heart. In a moment, she understood why. The door gave a small, almost inaudible creak as it inched open.
Lying on her side facing Ian with her eyes half-closed, she couldn’t quite see what was happening, but feigned sleep as he obviously wanted her to, trying to stay relaxed even though her pulse raced and throbbed in her throat. Sprawled next to her, Ian also gave the appearance of deep slumber, his dark hair disheveled on the pillows.
There was more than one man; she could tell that from the sound of their breathing. How many she wasn’t sure, but a scream built in her throat as Ian still didn’t move. When she saw the silhouette loom over the bed, she wasn’t sure she could keep still a moment longer.
Suddenly, the scene erupted as Ian flung himself upward, his fist connecting solidly with flesh, and a yelp of pain echoed out. Shrinking back against the bed, Leanna saw in terror there were at least three men in the bedroom, all dressed in black clothing, undoubtedly armed, for she caught a gleam of metal in the darkness. Ian too, she saw in the dim light coming through the window, held a wicked-looking knife, and as she watched, he swung it in a precise movement toward the closest of their assailants, cutting the man across the neck, the spurt of blood horrifying. The invader fell, clutching the gash, and hit the floor with a solid thud. Losing no time, fast as a dancer and as graceful, Ian slashed again and she heard the ripping of cloth and a bellow as another man stumbled backward to hit the wall. It happened so incredibly fast that the injured man looked astounded even as his knees buckled.
The one man left standing seemed undeterred, but was smart enough to not let Ian close, and they faced off warily. Magnificently nude, his dark hair sleek around his shoulders, Ian was not only unafraid, but obviously furious. His eyes were narrowed and he resembled a menacing mythical warrior, perfectly proportioned and muscular, his dripping knife attesting to his deft skill. He kept between the attacker and the bed, protecting her , Leanna realized.
“I’ll spare you,” he said through his teeth, “despite the cowardly approach and the fact that you are a paid killer, if you put down your weapon.”
“Save your breath, Scotsman,” the man spat. He was huge, every bit as tall as Ian, and even heavier, with hulking shoulders.
“Very well. It was your choice. When you wake up in hell, remember it.”
Feinting a slash to the stomach, Ian charged and then dodged left, his movements a blur. All Leanna knew was that suddenly the large man went rigid, his face convulsing, his knife falling from lax fingers, never even having the opportunity to attack. He crumpled and Ian let him fall, his long knife buried to the hilt in the man’s back. Barely breathing hard, Ian stood there and surveyed the chaos with a cool gaze.
Huddled in the bed, shocked and suddenly
Her slim arms went around his neck, and the smile she gave was both wistful and alluring. “Has any woman ever denied you, Ian?”
He grinned. “Not in my memory.”
“Then perhaps that’s what I’ll tell myself.” She touched his cheek and offered her mouth for another kiss. He obliged, pleasure and arousal flooding his body.
This need, he thought, tasting and stroking her even as he carried her across the hall to his bed, is almost frightening.
It was just before dawn, that dead hour between night and day. Leanna stirred and rolled over, seeking the solid warmth of Ian’s body. To her surprise, his arm came around her like a band of iron, and his hand covered her mouth. In her ear, he breathed, “Don’t move or make a sound, love.”
Startled, she came fully awake, obeying his terse order and blinking in the darkness. He let her go but was tense; she could feel the rock- hard bulge of his impressive muscles and hear the steady, increased thud of his heart. In a moment, she understood why. The door gave a small, almost inaudible creak as it inched open.
Lying on her side facing Ian with her eyes half-closed, she couldn’t quite see what was happening, but feigned sleep as he obviously wanted her to, trying to stay relaxed even though her pulse raced and throbbed in her throat. Sprawled next to her, Ian also gave the appearance of deep slumber, his dark hair disheveled on the pillows.
There was more than one man; she could tell that from the sound of their breathing. How many she wasn’t sure, but a scream built in her throat as Ian still didn’t move. When she saw the silhouette loom over the bed, she wasn’t sure she could keep still a moment longer.
Suddenly, the scene erupted as Ian flung himself upward, his fist connecting solidly with flesh, and a yelp of pain echoed out. Shrinking back against the bed, Leanna saw in terror there were at least three men in the bedroom, all dressed in black clothing, undoubtedly armed, for she caught a gleam of metal in the darkness. Ian too, she saw in the dim light coming through the window, held a wicked-looking knife, and as she watched, he swung it in a precise movement toward the closest of their assailants, cutting the man across the neck, the spurt of blood horrifying. The invader fell, clutching the gash, and hit the floor with a solid thud. Losing no time, fast as a dancer and as graceful, Ian slashed again and she heard the ripping of cloth and a bellow as another man stumbled backward to hit the wall. It happened so incredibly fast that the injured man looked astounded even as his knees buckled.
The one man left standing seemed undeterred, but was smart enough to not let Ian close, and they faced off warily. Magnificently nude, his dark hair sleek around his shoulders, Ian was not only unafraid, but obviously furious. His eyes were narrowed and he resembled a menacing mythical warrior, perfectly proportioned and muscular, his dripping knife attesting to his deft skill. He kept between the attacker and the bed, protecting her , Leanna realized.
“I’ll spare you,” he said through his teeth, “despite the cowardly approach and the fact that you are a paid killer, if you put down your weapon.”
“Save your breath, Scotsman,” the man spat. He was huge, every bit as tall as Ian, and even heavier, with hulking shoulders.
“Very well. It was your choice. When you wake up in hell, remember it.”
Feinting a slash to the stomach, Ian charged and then dodged left, his movements a blur. All Leanna knew was that suddenly the large man went rigid, his face convulsing, his knife falling from lax fingers, never even having the opportunity to attack. He crumpled and Ian let him fall, his long knife buried to the hilt in the man’s back. Barely breathing hard, Ian stood there and surveyed the chaos with a cool gaze.
Huddled in the bed, shocked and suddenly
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