Free Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) by Emma Prince Page B

that he cared for her, that she was special to him somehow. Many orphans were.
    Sabine’s sharp mind had proven suited for lessons in reading and memorization, for which he was pleased. Finding street urchins with those predilections was rare.
    He’d even saved her virginity all these years in the hopes that it could be used strategically for his gain someday. He’d fantasized about earning a King’s ransom if he sent her to be bedded by some powerful earl or other. The incident could be used as blackmail—or even payment, for she was a pretty young thing.
    He clucked his tongue at his own hesitation. Aye, she was a sweet little pawn, but she wasn’t worth all that he’d built over the years.
    Sighing again, he brought his attention back to Miles.
    “Both the Bruce’s messenger and the bodyguard have seen her. As far as you know, she is in the thug’s hands, and the Bruce knows that his missives have been compromised.”
    Miles nodded again mutely.
    “I suppose there is only one course of action then.” He smoothed his silk vest, rolling his head on his neck. “Kill her.”
    “Aye, milord.” Miles’s coarse features were impassive at the order. It wasn’t his first time with such a task, after all. In this line of work, secrecy was everything—and secrecy sometimes must be paid for in blood.
    “Take a man or two with you. The twins, mayhap. Go back to Dumfries and see if you can track her or the Bruce’s thug down. Report back to me when the task is complete.”
    “Aye, milord,” Miles repeated. With a quick bow, he ducked out of Fabian’s chamber.
    Fabian returned his attention to his stacks of secrets and promises, tidbits of information and bills for satisfied clients. A flicker of disappointment once again slid through him at the loss of such a valuable tool as Sabine, but it vanished as he lifted a new slip of parchment.

Chapter Ten
     
     
     
    By the time blue-gray dusk fell, Sabine’s shoulder pulsed with pain so great that she could feel it throbbing in her clenched teeth. With each of the horse’s steps, her arm jostled, shooting aching agony into her shoulder. The sling kept her from having to hold her arm up, but it did naught to alleviate the clopping of the large stallion’s hooves.
    She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning.
    “Are we going to stop soon?” she managed when she couldn’t stand the pain any longer.
    “Aye, soon enough,” Colin said gruffly. But suddenly he stiffened behind her. “Ye are in pain.”
    She was too exhausted to deny it. “Aye.”
    “Ye should have said something earlier, lass,” he said, though there was no longer an edge to his voice.
    He wrapped a hard arm around her chest, his hand closing over her injured shoulder.
    She inhaled sharply, fearing a fresh wave of agony, but instead his hand supported her shoulder, smoothing the roughest of the jolts. He held her close against his chest so that her body rolled with his instead of jarring with each of the horse’s steps.
    She couldn’t help the little whimper of relief that slipped from her lips as his fingers began to gently massage the aching joint.
    How could he be so hard and so gentle at the same time? Before the pain in her shoulder had grown so overpowering, she’d been acutely aware of Colin’s warm, muscular form behind her—nay, not just behind her, but around her. His corded thighs encased hers, the large hand holding the reins dangerously close to brushing her stomach.
    And now his steely forearm pressed against her breasts as that callused hand massaged her shoulder. Another moan of relief slipped past her lips as his fingers worked magic on her sore muscles.
    The black outline of a little village against the twilit sky jerked her back to reality. How could she be mewling like a well-fed kitten, melting into Colin’s arms, when he was her enemy?
    None of this made sense. Why hadn’t he tortured her yet? And if he was to be believed, he wasn’t going to torture her at