Free Her Defiant Heart by Jo Goodman Page B

she took was doing her harm, and she did not seem to comprehend the effects of her own recklessness. Christian's choices were clear. Two years ago, two months ago, even two days ago, he might have let her experience the consequences of her own folly, but that was not what he wanted to see happen now. Something—someone—had changed his thinking. He acted on it without understanding it.
    Christian flung out his left arm and managed to grab a handful of his nightshirt as Jane skittered past him. He yanked hard and caused her to lose her footing. She cried out as the soles of her feet slid painfully against the polished hardwood floor. Christian tightened his grip on the nightshirt and used it to lift her. His free arm slipped neatly beneath the back of her knees. She was so light that she bounced in the cradle he made for her as he let go of the nightshirt and supported her back. He had to lift her high to his chest to keep her from wiggling out of his hold. Her arms flailed at him, but he noticed that she did not hit him with her fists. She pounded him with her forearms and the heel of her hands.
    Unlike the first time she had fought with him, Christian commanded the position of strength, and her blows were ineffectual even if they were not particularly pleasant.
    He drew in a sharp breath as Jane managed to chop him on the side of the neck. "Easy, Jane," he said, turning on his heel. "You have no cause to beat me. I am going to put you down on the bed." He groaned as she landed another well aimed blow to his temple. "God! Where do you come by that reserve of strength?" He dropped her on the bed. "I could have used a few more like you in my company. No, you don't," he said as she started to roll toward the other side of the bed. Christian reached out, caught her by the nightshirt's collar, and hauled her back. He winced as he heard the material give way around the buttonholes.
    Jane's hair flew around her face as she was turned onto her back. Her wrists were captured just above the marks left by the restraints. She glared defiantly at Christian while she tossed her head like a young filly, trying to throw back her mane. Unaware of the split neckline that exposed her breasts nearly to their pink-tipped nipples, she continued to fight blindly with her knees and legs.
    The fact that she could still struggle amazed Christian as much as it worried him. Surely this was further proof that Jane Doe was no ordinary woman. For all her delicacy, she had shown herself to be a fierce opponent, and her strength was something to be reckoned with. Scott needed to see this, he thought. Perhaps it would change his opinion about Jane's state of mind.
    Christian tightened his grip on Jane's wrists and forced them against the mattress on either side of her head. She kicked out at him, and the nightshirt rucked up about her thighs. So much for her earlier attempts at modesty, he thought distractedly. He narrowly avoided being laid low by her knee again as he moved to straddle her hips. His eyebrows lifted a notch, and his half-grin was part exasperation, part relief. "I told you that you would not be so lucky again. Oh, stop looking at me as if you expect me to rape you. It's insulting. I'm not an animal, and you're hardly likely to fill me with lust. I wasn't willing before when you offered yourself, and I'm definitely not willing now. Besides, I'm still a little drunk." Christian had studiously avoided dropping his eyes to the gaping neckline of her nightshirt, but when she expressed her frustration in a frantic little wiggle, he couldn't help himself. That swift glance showed him that she had managed to bare one breast. He released her wrists and sat up straighter, careful not to rest his weight on her but on the backs of his calves instead. He was not that drunk. "Cover yourself," he said.
    Mortification brought a sheen of tears to her wide doe eyes and a rose blush to her cheeks. Rather than simply try to right her nightshirt, Jane twisted