Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

out of his way. He’s the one who can stop this cart from tumbling off the cliff. The only one.”


Before Golov responded, the door of the cell clanged open and Clayton was ushered inside, flanked by two guards carrying rifles.

His hands were bound in front of him, and his eyes were shadowed.

His gaze locked on hers. It held relief. Regret. Concern. Determination. More was said in that one look than he might ever have said

in words.

He’d come for her.

Again.

But soon he’d walk away from her and not look back.

“Ah, Baron, so good of you to join us.”

“Did you think bringing me back to La Petit’s cell would discomfit me? All it means is that you’re far too predictable.” He stepped

behind Olivia, and for an instant his hands brushed the nape of her neck.

The touch sent warmth and comfort flooding through her veins. And she straightened in her chair. She had no idea what Clayton’s

plan was, but she had no doubt that he had one.

Golov set his fork on the table. “So are you. You came here just as I knew you would.”

“Because I have a present for you. Count Arshun.”

“You found him?”

“Perhaps if you focused on finding criminals rather than kidnapping innocent women, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

It was time to try her plan. She would have preferred to tell the czar as well, but this would have to suffice for now. “The

revolutionaries’ plan is real. Arshun has already given the signals. Someone is going to try to kill the czar tomorrow.”

Golov hesitated. “Where is Arshun?”

Clayton shrugged. “Let us go, and I’ll tell you.”

“Speaks the man who is bound in my prison. You will tell me.”

“You think to torture it out of us?”

Golov’s tongue slid along his lip. “No, just out of you.”

Clayton lifted his bound hands and examined them. “Haven’t you ever wondered how we freed La Petit from this cell the first time?”

Golov’s thin nostrils flared and he leaned forward. “I know.”

Clayton’s lips curved in a satisfied grin. “No, you don’t.”

There was a sudden crash. Bricks collapsed into the room, revealing a man-sized hole in the wall. Ian and Blin stood in the center of

the dusty opening.

Olivia scrambled to her feet with a gasp. Had they just pushed down a brick wall?

“If you had known, you would have replaced the dirt behind those bricks,” Clayton said.

“And we bloody aren’t going to bother hiding our exit this time,” Ian added.

The guards rushed to raise their rifles, but Blin stopped one with a single blow of his massive fist. Even with hands tied, Clayton

stripped the rifle from the other man. Then Ian cut the rope at Clayton’s wrists with a flick of his knife.

Clayton leveled the rifle at Golov. “I wouldn’t recommend moving. Is Kate working with Golov?”

Olivia shook her head. “No.”

Clayton nodded and Blin grabbed Kate, tossed her over his shoulder, and walked through the hole in the wall. Clayton handed off

the rifle to Ian, then pulled Olivia into the tunnel.

“Run,” he ordered.

She stumbled behind him, the ground of the tunnel rocky and uneven.

An explosion boomed behind them.

Clayton turned and threw himself on top of her as a blast of air and rubble roared past them.

His breath was hot on her neck. But he’d rested most of his weight on his forearms to keep from crushing her. Part of her wished he

hadn’t. Part of her wished to be pressed into the rocky ground by him so she could memorize the weight and heat of his body. She

wished to be pressed down until there was no space between them at all. She wanted to be cut off from the future and exist only in

this filthy piece of tunnel.

After the dirt and dust clogging the air had settled somewhat, Clayton helped her to her feet and dusted her off. They started

walking. Before they’d gone a dozen feet, Clayton caught her arm, slowing her. Ian passed, hurrying ahead in the tunnel.

Clayton spun her slightly and pressed her back against the rock. “You seem to have a talent for surviving danger.”

His mouth fell hot and hungry on hers. Desire clenched tight within her. The darkness in the tunnel was absolute. She couldn’t see

Clayton. She could only feel him. Smell him. Taste him. The rasp of stubble on his chin abrading her neck. The scent of wax and

incense from the church. The tiny flicks of his tongue in between kisses. The brush of his eyelashes against her cheek as he kissed

her chin. The sweet, honeyed taste of his mouth.

She had no idea where his hands and lips were going to caress next and she didn’t want to. She wanted to be lost in this glorious

frenzy. She wanted this, too.

More than she’d ever wanted anything.

Soon she discovered if she cupped his face in her hands, she could coax him to linger where she needed his mouth the most. Then

the slightest pressure of her hand would bring his lips to her throat. Her breasts.

Some rational part of her warned that she had to stop.

But she needed one last touch before she lost him. She needed to know the corner of his jaw. The thickness of his hair. The planes

of his shoulders.

Suddenly, there were too many things she might forget when he left. Not enough time to memorize each of his fingers. And why had

she never paid attention to the shell of his ear? To the lobe she wished she’d have more chances to catch in her teeth?

Enough.

Never enough.

No. She wouldn’t be like Golov, snatching benefits for herself without caring for the repercussions.

What she’d done to save the mill had been wrong. She needed to set things right. “Clayton—”

She could feel his cheeks widen into a smile. “Shall I tell you of my plan for the mill now?”

“First, I need to tell—”

“I don’t know how you got lost. The tunnel goes in a straight line.” Ian’s voice echoed around them.

Clayton lifted away from her with a curse. But then he laced his fingers through hers and spoke, his voice a velvet whisper. “I won’t

let you go again.”





chapter Twenty-six

The five of them barely fit in the small basement room Ian had found for them. And yet Clayton hadn’t been able to get close to

Olivia.

After that kiss in the tunnel, he’d thought she would have stayed by his side. He’d expected her to be eager to hear his new plan for

the mill.

For them.

But although she was tending Blin’s wound, Clayton was no fool. He knew when he was being avoided. His mother had been an

expert at that. Even when she lived with them, she was always too busy to see to Clayton. Most of his memories of her were of

lingering around the edge of her dressing table, trying to stand straight and tall so she’d notice him.

Clayton fought the urge to throw everyone else from the room, yank Olivia to him, and kiss her until she could think of nothing but

him.

“You’re mooning,” Ian whispered in a quiet, singsong voice as Clayton handed him a cup of melted snow to soak the thumb he’d

burned while lighting the explosives.