Johanna plopped her traveling case on the bed and snatched a hairpin off the dresser. A few good jabs later, and several stitches in the satchel’s lining gave way. Carefully displacing the fabric, she slipped the book into place, smoothed the velveteen flat, and secured the cloth with a smaller pin. The false bottom she’d created would not withstand close scrutiny, but it would provide a temporary hiding place for the volume.
Connor would have no cause to examine the bag. She’d seen to that. The lock-box had been replaced beneath the floorboards, the oak plank slipped into position, and the hearth rug crinkled just enough to look tread upon. He’d have no reason to suspect she’d taken the book.
Not until she disappeared.
When the time was right, she’d slip away. She’d make her escape after the sun had driven out the thick, morning mist. She could play his game for a while longer. But the rules had changed. With any luck, he wouldn’t catch on until it was too late.
Surely he’d soon return. He’d think little of seeing she’d slipped into her combination, but the sight of her fully clothed might put him on alert. Removing her dress and shoes, she slid beneath the sheets. Perhaps she’d sway him to reveal his true intentions. After all, the Highlander was not the only one who could use tender kisses as a weapon.
Click.
Her breath hovered in her throat at the slow turn of the latch. She forced an exhale, then focused on breathing normally. She could not allow her rampaging emotions to betray her.
Connor entered quietly, as if he expected her to still be asleep. “I’d hoped to rouse ye from slumber while ye were in my arms.”
She propped herself up on her elbows and feigned a gentle, drowsy smile. It wouldn’t do to let him see how badly she wanted to confront him with the knowledge of his cruel betrayal. No, that wouldn’t do at all.
“I had the most delicious dream,” she said softly. “Of you.”
His dark brows cocked. Even in the dim light, she could make out the desire in his eyes. “Is that so?”
“You were kissing me…in the most wicked way.”
His gaze settled on her mouth. “That was not a dream, lass.”
She gave her head a little shake. “I’d thought you decadent last night. But that dream. Well…”
He stripped off his shirt. Ribbons of morning light danced against the powerful contours of his chest and shoulders, against the dark hair that feathered over his hard-muscled chest. My, how she wanted to touch that sleek, strong flesh again. Her mouth went dry.
A sly, knowing look darkened his eyes. “Do ye care to enlighten me?”
“So very wanton…I doubt I could find the words.” Johanna pressed her lips together, as if pondering a dilemma. She met his hungry gaze. “Of course, it would be easier to show you.”
He prowled toward her on the bed and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Aye, that it would.”
Coiling her arms around his neck, she pulled him close. Subtle traces of his natural musk filled her senses. Spending the morning in Connor’s arms would be delicious, indeed. But she couldn’t allow herself to be drawn into his spell.
She nipped at his earlobe, feeling the tiny shudder of awareness that ran through his long, lean body. Nibbling the sensitive flesh between her teeth, she swept her fingertips over his shoulders, gliding lower, savoring the crisp texture of the hair sprinkled over his chest and abdomen. Sensual hunger filled her, penetrating bone deep. By Athena’s spear, she wanted this man. Pity he was a man who’d love her tenderly by moonlight and betray her at sunrise.
She couldn’t deny she desired him. Even now, when she knew the truth of his deception. Her heroines would not be so naive as to fall into his passion-filled snare. But moral fortitude was easier when you were the product of ink put to paper, not flesh and blood.
Gently, he broke away from the caress. “Ye’re a temptation, lass. That ye are. But first, we’ve got a matter to discuss.”
She blinked, but quickly leashed her emotions. “I suppose I should’ve relied on words to paint the picture. It seems my demonstration has fallen short of your…expectations.”
“Nay, even when ye’re clothed like a parson’s wife, ye’re enough to get a man thinking with his cock rather than the hunk of stone on his shoulders. But there’s one thing ye need to remember—never try to deceive a man who knows yer every breath.”
“You think I don’t desire you?” How very wrong he was. She yearned for his touch, desired the strength and heat and power of his male body. But she could not allow that penetrating hunger to make her foolish and trusting.
“I’ve felt yer pleasure. I’ve felt yer wanting and I’ve seen the hunger in yer eyes. Ye cannae fool me with an act. There’s something ye’re holdin’ back.” As he spoke, his gaze wandered, lighting on the fireplace. On the hearth. “Damnation. Ye’ve moved the rug.”
Connor sprang from the bed, roiling the mattress like a ship in a turbulent sea. He crossed to the strong-box’s hiding place and snatched up the small, woven carpet in one hand. Jabbing at a small blemish at one corner of the rug, he kept his eyes on her face. “Do ye see this hole, lass? I positioned the tear at the hearth’s edge. But it’s been turned. What’ve ye done?”