Read Online Too Wicked to Marry by Susan Sizemore - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Sizemore
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kill her to see him, to speak to him, knowing she could never—
She could still run. And hide.
Harriet turned around and scampered back to the shelter of the ruins on the hilltop as fast as her heavy skirts would let her.
"Abigail! Wait!"
Martin's shout scattered the sheep. The herdsman called out angrily as Martin sprinted forward through the pasture. The dogs barked and one nipped once at his heels as he ran, but Martin was intent only on reaching his goal now that he'd laid eyes on his elusive prize. He reached the massive ring of stones and broken walls seconds after Abigail ducked into them, saw a flash of scarlet skirt and sable hair amid the weathered stones, and called out again.
"Abigail!"
Harriet flinched away from the name she'd never wanted to hear again. She'd never expected to hear that deep, imperious voice. It sent a thrill through her, surging warmth mixed with cold terror. She did not like being afraid. It did not suit her at all. Nor did she appreciate that the very sight of an unarmed man had sent her into a panic. She was a MacLeod, for God's sake! What would her family think of her cowardly reaction? The teasing would never end if any of them saw her like this. All right, she looked a fright, felt like the worst sort of fool, and was completely and thoroughly confused, but when you were afraid you faced down your fear—and that was that.
Harriet stopped in the center of the ruins, clasped her shaking hands behind her back, and turned to face her foe.
"Martin."
He halted a few feet from her, standing near the base of the broken tower. "You've led me a fine chase, my love," he said as he studied her. "Have you made up your mind yet whether you're happy to see me?"
Not an hour before, her mother had asked her if she loved this man. She had answered that she didn't know. Facing him didn't help her confusion any; seeing him only made her misery worse. Yet seeing him was—
He smiled at her and tears stung behind her eyes. Her heart hammered so hard she could barely hear herself speak. "I—I—"
Her voice shook as hard as the rest of her. Such a show of weakness would not do at all! Panic was no more an option than giving in to the impulse to throw her arms around the man, now that he stood there so brash and confident before her.
She took a deep breath and tried again. "I do indeed find myself of several minds," she admitted. "However did you find me?"
"Whyever did you run?" he countered.
"I did not run. I walked with great dignity all the way to the train station."
"You could have at least left me a note."
"I should have left my resignation, Lord Martin. I apologize for that lapse, my lord."
He shook a finger at her. "Your disappearance gave me quite a fright, my love. I even called in the constables."
"Oh, dear." Somehow it had not occurred to her that her absence would cause him any distress. She'd been too distressed by his declaration to think. She'd reacted like an animal in pain, and blindly fled to a safe den. It was so unlike her not to think things through. "I should have stayed until things were settled." she told him. "Running away is no method of settling a dilemma at all. How foolish of me."
"Well, Abigail," he said, crossing his arms. His smile softened the words. "At least we're in agreement on the foolishness of your behavior. You need to make it up to me," he added, crossing the space between them in a few steps and taking her into a swift, hard embrace.
His mouth covered hers a moment later, even as she opened it to speak. The kiss was rough and demanding, overpowering with pent-up desire. The moment he touched her, everything ceased for Harriet but primal, singeing heat that burned thought away.
The next thing she was aware of was the shiver of delight going through her as her fingers stroked the hard muscles and soft chest hair revealed by Martin's open shirt. Touching him was so, so—
Then they were on the ground, him flat on his back and her on top of him. She
She could still run. And hide.
Harriet turned around and scampered back to the shelter of the ruins on the hilltop as fast as her heavy skirts would let her.
"Abigail! Wait!"
Martin's shout scattered the sheep. The herdsman called out angrily as Martin sprinted forward through the pasture. The dogs barked and one nipped once at his heels as he ran, but Martin was intent only on reaching his goal now that he'd laid eyes on his elusive prize. He reached the massive ring of stones and broken walls seconds after Abigail ducked into them, saw a flash of scarlet skirt and sable hair amid the weathered stones, and called out again.
"Abigail!"
Harriet flinched away from the name she'd never wanted to hear again. She'd never expected to hear that deep, imperious voice. It sent a thrill through her, surging warmth mixed with cold terror. She did not like being afraid. It did not suit her at all. Nor did she appreciate that the very sight of an unarmed man had sent her into a panic. She was a MacLeod, for God's sake! What would her family think of her cowardly reaction? The teasing would never end if any of them saw her like this. All right, she looked a fright, felt like the worst sort of fool, and was completely and thoroughly confused, but when you were afraid you faced down your fear—and that was that.
Harriet stopped in the center of the ruins, clasped her shaking hands behind her back, and turned to face her foe.
"Martin."
He halted a few feet from her, standing near the base of the broken tower. "You've led me a fine chase, my love," he said as he studied her. "Have you made up your mind yet whether you're happy to see me?"
Not an hour before, her mother had asked her if she loved this man. She had answered that she didn't know. Facing him didn't help her confusion any; seeing him only made her misery worse. Yet seeing him was—
He smiled at her and tears stung behind her eyes. Her heart hammered so hard she could barely hear herself speak. "I—I—"
Her voice shook as hard as the rest of her. Such a show of weakness would not do at all! Panic was no more an option than giving in to the impulse to throw her arms around the man, now that he stood there so brash and confident before her.
She took a deep breath and tried again. "I do indeed find myself of several minds," she admitted. "However did you find me?"
"Whyever did you run?" he countered.
"I did not run. I walked with great dignity all the way to the train station."
"You could have at least left me a note."
"I should have left my resignation, Lord Martin. I apologize for that lapse, my lord."
He shook a finger at her. "Your disappearance gave me quite a fright, my love. I even called in the constables."
"Oh, dear." Somehow it had not occurred to her that her absence would cause him any distress. She'd been too distressed by his declaration to think. She'd reacted like an animal in pain, and blindly fled to a safe den. It was so unlike her not to think things through. "I should have stayed until things were settled." she told him. "Running away is no method of settling a dilemma at all. How foolish of me."
"Well, Abigail," he said, crossing his arms. His smile softened the words. "At least we're in agreement on the foolishness of your behavior. You need to make it up to me," he added, crossing the space between them in a few steps and taking her into a swift, hard embrace.
His mouth covered hers a moment later, even as she opened it to speak. The kiss was rough and demanding, overpowering with pent-up desire. The moment he touched her, everything ceased for Harriet but primal, singeing heat that burned thought away.
The next thing she was aware of was the shiver of delight going through her as her fingers stroked the hard muscles and soft chest hair revealed by Martin's open shirt. Touching him was so, so—
Then they were on the ground, him flat on his back and her on top of him. She
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