Read Online Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) by Michelle Willingham - Free Book Online

upper lip, shifting his tongue beneath it to make the surface easier to cut.
    A smile escaped her. “You look like a chipmunk when you do that.”
    “It’s so you won’t be cutting any of my skin,” he explained. He reached for her hand and drew it toward him. Guiding her, he showed her how to cut away the hair.
    She stood between his legs, her face flushed as she studied the work before her. Her hands were gentle as she held his chin with one hand. He didn’t speak, not wanting to distract her. Instead, he studied the curve of her cheek and the dark green eyes that were so intent upon him. She revealed her emotions in those eyes, and right now, she was being careful not to cut him.
    “How is your back?” she asked.
    “It still hurts.” Though he didn’t want her to think him weak, the effort of sitting up was starting to intensify the pain.
    When she’d finished, he said, “Run your fingers over my face and tell me if I’ve missed a place.”
    Her fingers were gossamer as she slid them over his cheeks and chin. He closed his eyes, imagining her long fingers moving over his flesh. When her hands stopped, framing his face, he pulled her down to sit on his knee.
    “Cain, I can’t,” she murmured. “It’s not proper.”
    “Where have you slept these past nights?” he countered. “On a chair?”
    “That’s none of your affair, Mr. Sinclair.” She was growing more flustered, and he pressed her further.
    “Or did you sleep beside me?” he suggested, keeping her trapped upon his lap.
    She stood and pushed back from him, her face crimson. “I slept on the floor, mostly. I would never dare to sleep beside you.”
    She turned her back on him, and he decided it was time to retreat. “You saved my life, Margaret. That’s no’ something I’ll be forgetting.”
    She took a poker and pushed at the peat upon the fire. He could read the embarrassment in her demeanor, and finally she admitted, “I’m sorry I forced you to help me search for Amelia. The wounds you suffered . . . they were my fault.”
    Why would she believe such a thing? “ ’Twas an accident and you’re no’ to blame for it.”
    “But if you hadn’t come with me, none of this would have happened.” She finally faced him, and he saw the shame upon her cheeks.
    He stared at her. “I don’t regret any day spent with you, Margaret Andrews. No matter what the cost.”

    Jonah Sinclair paced across the tiny space of their thatched cottage. His older brother had warned him to stay out of trouble, but he was itching to leave. He’d never left Ballaloch—not once in his fourteen years.
    He knew every rock, every blade of grass in this region. He’d spent his days exploring every inch of the land, and he envied the Baron of Lanfordshire’s manor and the Earl of Strathland’s estate. He dreamed of owning a house like those, of having servants and wealth. But more than all else, he wanted to leave the Highlands. His brother, Cain, traveled all the time, and Jonah longed for that freedom.
    He dreamed of traveling beyond the boundaries of Scotland, whether that meant sailing across the Irish Sea or going south to England. The thirst for adventure burned inside him, and he was old enough to look after himself.
    Only fear of the unknown held him back. But . . . maybe he could find Cain. He knew his brother traveled regularly to London. Jonah was certain that if he followed the roads and took enough supplies, surely he could make it there. And Cain wasn’t here to stop him.
    He had a little money saved, enough to get by. Surely he could make it far enough south. And if the money ran out, he could work until he earned more. He flexed his muscle and felt it with his hand. No, he wasn’t as strong as his brother. But he was growing, and he could manage the journey south.
    Jonah gathered a few things into a bundle, along with a second bundle of food. Though he wanted to take more with him, it was already heavy with the potatoes he’d stored.