What A Scoundrel Wants by Carrie Lofty

Author:Carrie Lofty [Lofty, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 1420104756
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 2008-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

Will inhaled the earthy scent of Meg’s hair. She fit him effortlessly, huddling deeper into his embrace. A humbling turn of events. For every minute they had spent in joy, they had spent an hour at each other’s throats. Finding peace with her remained novel.Experience taught him to doubt the durability of such peace, but he hoped against the odds. A stinging possessiveness burgeoned within him, leaving little room for doubt or fear or thought.

She stirred. “How long have we been in here? Hours?”

“It may be twilight by now,” he said.

“What purpose could Finch have in detaining us without questioning us?”

“Perhaps he wanted us to share time alone.”

She sat up, leaving him cold. “And this fits into his grand scheme how?”

“He hopes we’ll gouge each other’s eyes while we wait.”

“That might have been true this morning.”

Something akin to shyness colored her voice. He wanted a torch, any flicker of light to see her face and better read her expression. Realizing that she encountered such a challenge with every passing moment chilled him.

Rather than indulging in compassion Meg would find offensive, he opted for another insistent truth. “Now our only conflict shall be who relents first to use the privy.”

“Do what you must,” she said tightly. “I’ll wait until it kills me.”

He grinned and joined her in a seated position, rolling his aching shoulder.

“Will, can you see anything? Dance your fingers before your eyes—anything?”

As if doing so might change the result, he tried. Fingers fluttered, moving air against his face, but blackness swallowed all. “I can see shadows, motion. Nothing more. Why?”

“I’ve given our situation thought.”

“Saints save us.”

“Hush,” she said. “Guards will arrive armed, as you said, and with torches.”

“Yes.”

“But when that door opens, you will squint and blink as your eyes adjust. I will not.”

Her logic had resurfaced, but he could not decide if it was a boon or a curse. “What do you suggest?”

“Give me the explosives.”

He clamped down on the impulse to refuse her. “And what would you do with them?”

“What we planned.” She took his hands, resting them on her crossed ankles. “Especially after the blast, like staring into the sun, you’ll be temporarily blinded.”

“As opposed to you.”

“If I can do anything without sight, I can find fire.” Idly, she stroked the lump of scarred flesh at the center of his palm. “How did you get this? It feels like you were shot with an arrow.”

Desire cooled. Defeat and old ghosts reigned as tyrants. “I was.”

“What happened?”

“Robin,” he said. “Robin happened.”

“Your uncle did this? Why?”

“Because I deserved it.”

She petted the humiliating scar as if trying to erase it. “You deserved being shot?”

He circled her hands to still her restless touch. “He accused me of cowardice, and rather than argue my point, I drew a knife and attacked him when he turned his back. He taught me that cowardice can make a man do terrible things. I would have done well to remember that lesson.”

“Is he always right? Robin?”

“Certainly feels that way.” The petulant child in his voice laid waste to years of life on his own.

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