Read Online Some Like It Wild by Teresa Medeiros - Free Book Online Page B

like you’re tryin’ to trap me in a cage, lass. A gilded one, but a cage all the same. At least if I die swingin’ at the end of a hangman’s noose here in these mountains, I’ll still be free.”
    He allowed his gaze to linger on her lips for a dangerous moment before releasing her wrist and turning his back on her.
    He was striding toward the door, eager for abreath of fresh air to drive the enticing scent of lilac from his nostrils, when she said, “There’s one more thing you stand to gain.”
    He didn’t slow or turn around. “And what would that be?”
    “Revenge.”
    Connor stopped and slowly turned on his heel to face her.
    This time she was wise enough to keep her distance. “You can’t honestly believe I’ve already forgotten all of your impassioned speeches about the oppression of your people by the English. If you agree to play this role for me, you’ll still be a thief. You’ll simply be stealing an Englishman’s birthright just as Jacob stole Esau’s. It will be your ultimate joke on your enemies.”
    Connor studied her through narrowed eyes. However lovely and clever she might be, she was still one of those enemies.
    But she was also offering him a way to take a life without staining his hands with a single drop of blood. A way to take revenge on the ruthless redcoat bastards who had murdered his parents and the wealthy landowners who had sent them. And he would still be doing what he’d always done best—robbing the English.
    His time was running out. He had left behind his ancestral lands and his clansmen almost five years ago, hoping to make a better life for himself. But all he’d done was fall in with an even motlier crew of cutthroats and smugglers. More than once in the past six months he had awakened froma restless sleep, clawing at an invisible bond that sought to strangle the life from him. It was just a matter of time before he met the end he deserved and his body was tossed in some unmarked grave where the one person who might still care if he died would never find him.
    He slowly sauntered toward Pamela. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Darby. Are you sure you haven’t a drop or two of Scot’s blood runnin’ through your veins?”
    “Not that I’m aware of, Mr. Kincaid,” she replied, forced to tilt back her head to look him in the eye as he stopped a scant foot in front of her.
    He had to admire her courage as well as her wits. Although she looked as if she would have liked nothing better than to bolt, she stood her ground as he cupped the softness of her cheek in his callused palm. “If I’m to inherit this kingdom you’ve promised me, lass, then perhaps you’d best start addressing me as ‘m’lord.’”
     
    Pamela sat with her back to the wall, watching Sophie sleep. A pale stream of moonlight trickled through the jagged gash in the stone, bathing her sister’s angelic face in a wash of silver. Pamela smiled ruefully as a less than angelic snore escaped Sophie’s puckered lips. She had been a sturdy seven-year-old when Sophie was born and she could still remember rocking the rosy-cheeked babe to sleep every night in her cradle while their mama took her final bows and gathered the roses thrown to her by her adoring admirers.
    Pamela hugged the woolen blanket tighter around her shoulders and rested the back of her head against the wall, allowing her eyes to drift shut for a few precious seconds. Her own body was beginning to ache with exhaustion. She longed to stretch out next to Sophie on the makeshift pallet, but she had no intention of leaving her sister unguarded with that motley crew of bandits and smugglers still making merry in the vault below.
    As she felt her head beginning to nod toward her chest, she jerked her eyes open and gave herself a brisk shake. She gazed around the dusty tower, wondering if it had once been a bedchamber shared by some lusty lord and his lady. Except for a crude table and chair, there was nothing left of its furnishings but