The Thorn & the Thistle Read online

  Megan began the game, keeping her play solid and cautious. She had no idea what kind of player Rolf was and she wanted him to reveal his methods before she chose a strategy. It was difficult for her to restrain herself because she loved the game of chess. Her father had delighted in her unorthodox approaches to the game and her bold, brilliant forays into enemy territory. But now, she concentrated on a more staid and classical approach, waiting for Rolf to show his true abilities as a strategist.

  As the game progressed, Megan felt a sharp disappointment. Rolf played more cautiously than she, apparently not even able to anticipate the simplest of her moves. In fact, he seemed to have no style at all; he tried simply to limit her damage. She watched him as he studied the board in concentration, his dark brows knitted together. Shaking her head, she mentally judged his abilities as a leader and came to the conclusion that his capture of her and the others had been sheer luck. This man sitting in front of her didn’t seem to possess one ounce of strategic capability. All the gossip about Rolf St. James being a brilliant soldier must have been just talk. In fact, if it weren’t for his considerable muscles and brawn, he probably wouldn’t have made a good soldier at all.

  Tiring of the game, Megan moved forward, achieving checkmate in a relatively easy manner. Rolf looked up at her in surprise, inclining his head in a gesture of graceful defeat.

  “I’m impressed. Your moves were well planned and executed. I learned a lot from watching you.”

  Megan shrugged, embarrassed to hear him speak of her tepid play as something spectacular. Yet even as she dismissed his comments, her mind began to form a plan. If he were like most other men she knew, he would not back down from a challenge issued by a woman. Especially a Scottish woman. Using this to her advantage, she might yet be able to trick the Englishman into agreeing to take her to the dungeon. She mulled over the possibilities.

  Rolf returned the pieces to their opening positions on the board. “Shall we play another game?”

  Megan smiled. “Aye, I’d like that. But I thought perhaps this time we might make the game a bit more interesting by wagering.”

  Rolf’s lifted his head in surprise. “Wagering?”

  “Aye, whoever wins the game receives the reward of their choice. For example, if I win the game, ye must immediately take me to the dungeon to see the men.”

  His dark eyes flickered with interest. “I see. And what shall I gain if I win?”

  Megan shrugged, doubtful of that outcome. “I have little to offer. Perhaps the promise that I will not try to kill ye again, at least while I remain here in the castle.”

  “Hmmm, a paltry offer, I’m afraid. No, I think it will have to be something more.”

  Megan stiffened. “I’ll no’ speak again o’ the Wolf nor o’ our activities.”

  He lifted his hands. “Of course not, and I would not cause you further distress by making such a request.” He paused, deep into thought. Finally, a smile crossed his face. “Therefore, I ask for naught more than a kiss, given willingly to me this night.”

  All color drained from a shocked Megan’s cheeks. “A k-kiss? From me? Ye must be in jest.”

  Rolf sighed. “Please forgive me. I can see that I have caused you distress. It was nothing more than a frivolous idea. Let us forget about the wager and simply play the game for the mere enjoyment of it.” He returned to setting up the pieces on the board.

  Megan swallowed her surprise, watching him arrange the wooden figurines. She forced her face into what she hoped was a reasonable expression, remembering that she had little to fear from such a player. Besides, she argued with herself, if she won, she would be able to see her clansmen tonight. The thought of seeing them and making certain they were all right was too tempting an opportunity to pass up. And even if the inconceivable happened and she lost the game, she could suffer through one kiss. Even if he were an Englishman.

  “Nay, wait. ’Tis no’ an unreasonable request. I accept your terms.”

  Rolf lifted his head and his dark burning eyes held her gaze for a measured moment. “Then I accept your challenge.”

  All at once, Megan wondered if she’d made a mistake. There was a new look in his eyes, a kind of intense determination. She swallowed hard, feeling her palms become damp. Taking a steady breath, she discreetly wiped her hands on her gown beneath the table and leaned forward to begin.

  From the start, Megan moved her pieces with none of the caution she had exhibited in the previous game. She was determined to finish as quickly as possible and put an end to her charade. Yet after the first few moves, she realized with growing concern that Rolf was making equally bold and daring moves, forcing her rethink her strategy.

  Lifting her eyes from the board, she looked at him in suspicious surprise. “Ye are playing well.”

  “I find that playing for a valuable prize stimulates my mind.”

  A nervous flutter began in her stomach, but Megan pushed it aside. She had to concentrate. Her next several moves were a daring attempt to force his king into a corner. Yet in a series of advances that left her breathless, Rolf expertly countered her attack. Two moves later, Megan found herself checkmated.

  She pushed away from the table and stood. He had played a spectacular game of chess, using some of the most innovative moves she had ever seen.

  “Ye knew all along how to play chess. ’Twas naught but a ruse. Ye tricked me.”

  “I tricked you?” Rolf lifted a brow. “Was it I who suggested the wager against a player whom I thought I could easily best?”

  “But ye played badly on purpose.”

  “Consider it a strategy, a lesson to take to heart. I didn’t see you playing so expertly that first game either, although I could sense you held yourself back. If you must know, you are a most formidable opponent when you play to your abilities.”

  “Ye...ye...Englishman.” She bestowed the worst of all curses on him. “I should have never agreed to play chess wi’ ye.”

  “Ah, but you did, my dear. And now you must honor your wager.”

  He unfolded himself from the chair, stretching his sleek, muscular frame like a panther. He walked to the hearth, bending over and adding another few squares of peat to the fire. Finally he straightened and turned to look at her.

  “I believe it is time to honor that wager.”

  Megan’s courage faltered. “Um...I...I don’t think I could bear it.”

  “Bear what?”

  “Being kissed...by ye.”

  “You mean being kissed by a cripple.”

  “I care naught about that. It’s just that ye are...an...an...Englishman.”

  “That’s what troubles you?”

  When she nodded, he sighed. “Come here, Megan. Let me show you what it is like to be kissed by an Englishman. I assure you, it will not be as unpleasant as you think.”

  An odd flutter began in Megan’s stomach. She was fascinated by the husky tone of his voice when he said her name. A peculiar excitement raced through her, urging her toward him. Yet she could not bring herself to step forward.

  “Are you going to honor your wager or not? Am I not to trust your word from this moment on?”

  Megan took a step forward. “I gave my word and I will honor it. But first ye must promise ’twill be but a kiss.”

  “You have my word.”

  Murmuring a small prayer, Megan walked over to where he stood. He opened his arms and after a moment of hesitation, she moved into them.

  Rolf drew her toward him until her hands rested against his chest. He fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek before reaching back and unfastening her ribbon. Her hair spilled across her shoulders like a dark river of satin.

  She remained rigid in his arms.

  “Put your arms around my neck, Megan.”

  She complied, her arms shaking. He cupped
his fingers around her trembling chin, holding her still. He inclined his head, placing his mouth against hers. He traced the soft fullness of her lips with his tongue, teasing the sensitive curves of her mouth.

  Megan’s determination to remain aloof during the kiss was shattered by the drugging sensation of his firm, hard mouth against hers. The feel of his tongue sent a shock wave spiraling through her entire body. Never had Robbie’s kisses sent such a burning fire through her veins, causing her head to spin and her knees to turn to jelly.

  When she parted her lips, Rolf gently slid his tongue within her mouth, exploring the sensitive sides. Although she was startled by his invasion, another part of her shivered with pleasure at the delicious sensations flooding her body. Fascinated by the feelings, Megan tentatively touched her own tongue to his. She kept her eyes shut, marveling at the feelings within her as if they had always existed there dormant. She had never suspected that a kiss could be so enjoyable. Heat radiated through her, warming her body in places she had never known existed and filling her with an indescribable ache for his touch upon her skin. Her fingers slowly unclenched. Tentatively she began exploring the corded muscles of his shoulders and neck with sensitive, inquiring fingertips.

  His response was to tighten his arms about her waist and deepen their kiss. Megan felt herself falling deep into a sea of pleasurable sensations. She tangled her fingers in his thick mane of hair, threading them through the dark strands and keeping his mouth on hers.

  Lifting his lips from hers, he forged a trail of heated kisses from the corner of her mouth to the curve of her cheekbone. Brushing her hair aside, he kissed the soft skin of her neck and a moan escaped her lips.

  After a moment, he pulled away.

  She opened her eyes, feeling dazed and disappointed. “Is it over?”

  Rolf traced the line of her cheekbone and jaw with his finger. “Unfortunately, yes. I didn’t want to stop, but I gave you my word. You’d be in danger if we continued for much longer. You may now consider the wager fulfilled...unless you’d like to continue.”

  Confused, Megan reached up and touched her lips, still tingling from his kiss. Her whole body was trembling, her legs weak. She was all too aware of just how much she had enjoyed his touch and the feel of his mouth upon hers.

  Shame and self-loathing slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave. Her cheeks blazed crimson and she stepped away from him. Hoping he could not see how distressed she was, Megan forced herself to lift her chin and meet his eyes.

  “So what’s next, Englishman? Now that ye’ve humiliated me, are ye ready to return to the dungeon and resume torturing helpless men?”

  Rolf’s dark eyes turned flat and as unreadable as stone. “Humiliated? If I’m not wrong, it seems to me that you just enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.”

  Mortified that he had so easily read her response, she felt the heat in her face intensify. “Well, ye were wrong. I hated every moment o’ it.”

  His hand shot out, catching her arm and drawing her close. “Why deny it, Megan? I could tell what you wanted.”

  Megan yanked away, a sob catching in her throat. “Stop it.”

  Rolf looked at her in surprise. “You are truly distressed.” He released her arm and she turned her back to him, standing with her hands clenched at her side.

  “So what’s next, Englishman?”

  She spoke harshly, but Rolf could hear the tremble in her voice. “I believe it is time we retire for the evening.”

  “Wh-what?” She whirled around to face him.

  Rolf grimaced at the horror in her voice. “In separate chambers, of course. I’ve had Abigail prepare a room for you. I trust you will be comfortable.”

  She sighed in audible relief. “I don’t need a room, Englishman. I’d be more comfortable in the dungeon.”

  “I sincerely doubt it. But I will take you to see the men in the morning.”

  She glanced at him in surprise. “Ye will? But I lost the wager.”

  “Yes, you did.” His voice softened. “But you also kept your word. I hope you will soon learn that I am not a completely unreasonable man. Come now.”

  Megan was careful not to touch him as she left the sitting room. Her emotions were in a jumble. She knew full well that he could have tortured her or forced himself upon her before this, especially as he thought her to be the mistress of his enemy. Yet he had done neither. It was completely out of character with what she expected from a despicable Englishman.

  She was disconcerted, and her brow drew together in an anxious frown. Lest she forget, this man was her enemy. If he discovered she was the Wolf, he would not hesitate to send her to London for immediate execution. She could never ever let down her guard with him again like she had tonight.

  God help her. Rolf St. James had proved himself a worthy adversary and Megan knew she would have to be equally as stalwart. She realized all too well that the real game between the two of them had only just begun.

  Chapter Eight

  Blessed God above, it was a miracle.

  Megan couldn’t believe her luck as Rolf ushered her into what used to be her brother’s bedchamber. A fire had been lit in the hearth and fresh water placed in a basin on top of a wooden table. Other than the position of the bed and the absence of Jaime’s belongings, the chamber was exactly as she remembered it.

  Bittersweet memories flooded over her as she remembered her brother’s handsome grin and the sparkle of blue eyes when he laughed. They had played in this room together as children, laughing, shouting and brewing up mischief. Later, when they had both grown, they’d sat in front of this very hearth, ferociously arguing politics until the wee hours of the morning.

  A flood of sadness and regret crushed her. The MacLeod clan had never been one to agree on politics. When her father refused the call to arms for Prince Charles, Jamie had argued bitterly with him. Robert had had no love for the Hanovers, but had not believed Charles Stuart to be the man to lead Scotland out of her troubles. Megan had firmly backed her father’s decision, and the rift had taken a painful toll on the family. But now she couldn’t help but wonder if Jamie had been right all along. Mayhap it would have been more honorable to die on the fields of Culloden. For nearly anything would have been better than what she and her clansmen were reduced to now.

  But not for much longer. Freedom would soon be hers. Blessed fortune. The Englishman had just given her an avenue of escape and he didn’t even know it.

  * * *

  “Megan?”

  “Aye?”

  “I asked whether this room would be suitable.”

  A small smile touched her lips. “Aye, ’twill be just fine.” She walked over to the hearth, warming her hands by the fire. She stood there, her shoulders erect, her black tresses glistening in the dim light.

  Rolf watched her, marveling at the way she held herself, proud and regally. By God, he wanted her. How foolish he’d been to think a kiss would slake his curiosity and need. He couldn’t have been more wrong. It had done little to dampen his interest and more to convince him that there was nothing simple or undesirable about this woman.

  “Good night, Englishman.”

  She summarily dismissed him, his prisoner. Instead of anger, Rolf felt amusement. He bowed and then left the room. He drew the bolt, spoke to the guard and strode down the corridor to his own bedchamber, not to sleep, but to think. He had spent too much time with her and needed to turn his attention to discovering a way to lure the elusive Wolf into a trap.

  Unfortunately, even after he had undressed and sat in front of the fire sipping a brandy, he found he could think of little other than the lass with eyes of blue Scottish fire. Somehow, after an evening with her, his problems with the Wolf seemed minimal in comparison to the mystery of this beautiful woman. He laughed at himself. By God, he must be mad to find himself attracted
to a woman who only hours earlier had sought to kill him.

  He set his glass aside and removed the glove from his injured hand. Methodically, he began to rub the twisted knuckles as he did every night. How odd that she had wished him to uncover it, to display this hideous deformity for the world to see. He had never met a woman so unusual and clever. Somehow his lovely captive had discovered a way to turn his own tactics against him. Now, instead of thinking of ways to capture the Wolf, he was becoming obsessed with the most intriguing woman he had ever met. What a jest it would be if that turned out to be the Wolf’s strategy all along.

  * * *

  Megan did not ready herself for bed, nor did she rest beneath the soft quilts, for fear of falling asleep. Instead she waited by the window, judging the time from the position of the moon. When she was certain it was far past midnight, she walked over to the hearth. Running her hands down the side of the mantle, she groped for the latch that she knew would be there.

  In moments she found it and gave it a twist. With a groaning creak, a section of the fireplace moved outward, revealing a secret passageway. A dank and musty smell drifted out and Megan wrinkled her nose in disgust. Forcing herself to overcome her queasiness at entering the forbidding tunnel alone, she took a candle from the table and slipped into the passageway, pulling the fireplace door shut behind her.

  The air was cool and damp and Megan shivered, wishing she had a cloak. Moving cautiously along the tunnel, she stifled a scream as a spider web brushed across her face. Saints above, how many years had it been since she’d last been in this tunnel? She ignored the strange rustling noises and the brush of something darting across her foot.

  She tried to focus more on pleasant thoughts, like what the Englishman would think when he discovered the room empty and his prisoner missing.

  “This time, ’tis checkmate to ye, Englishman.” Feeling cheered by the thought, she continued along the tunnel, guiding herself by keeping one hand on the cold wall. When she came to a narrow set of stairs leading downward, she knew that she was almost to her destination. She descended the steps until she came to a door at the bottom of the stairway. Holding the candle closer for light, she searched the door until she found the turnstone. Murmuring a small prayer that no one was waiting on the other side, Megan pressed on it with all her strength. With a rusty groan, the door swung open and she slipped into her father’s library.