Free Captives' Charade by Susannah Merrill Page A

she felt his long fingers clamp ever so gently but firmly on her upper arm. Before she could scream for aid, his other hand covered her mouth and pushed her head back against the hollow beneath his chin.
    Stewart’s uncompromising hold and the knowledge that she was completely helpless to defend herself so shocked Sarah that she could not summon the will to even attempt escape. The panther, indeed, had sprung, and her fate was frighteningly obvious. Simultaneously cursing her own stupidity for being caught off guard and praying for mercy, she did not realize she was shaking and sobbing in his grasp.
    “You will not cry out?” Stewart demanded in the quietest of tones. Weakly, she shook her head, a move barely possible because of her imprisonment. His voice, ever so ominous, stirred the hair covering her ear, sending chills up her spine. “You are safe,” he breathed, his tone defying her to conjure any doubts as to that fact.
    Slowly, his hand left her mouth, slipping to her shoulder as he gently turned her around to face him. Keeping one hand on her arm, he used the other to retrieve a muslin handkerchief from his coat pocket. As he daubed at her tears, still streaming silently down her face, she cast her eyes straight ahead, seeing only his chest. Using his free hand to tilt her chin upward, he sought to repair the damage to her distraught face. Sarah kept her eyes closed tightly, clamping her mouth shut to hold back her sobs, as her mind reeled with anger, fear and foreboding. As if he were merely continuing a quiet conversation, Stewart began speaking in a gentle voice.
    “My mother used to warn me that my terseness would someday be my undoing,” he said, brushing at her thick lashes clumped into spikes by her tears. “I often wished to show her that such forthrightness had brought me much success in business. But it now dawns on me that she was referring to matters of a much more personal nature – and I fear she was right after all,” he said, and Sarah detected a wistfulness in his tone. Her eyes still shut, she listened to the rustle of his coat as he returned the cloth to his pocket and then placed both hands on her upper arms. He was so close that she could feel his warm breath on her upturned face.
    “It has not been my desire to woo a lady, for my use of women has been simple and basic,” he continued, feeling her arms stiffen at his frankness. “But it occurs to me now that I might have underestimated the value of a woman as a companion – perhaps even a friend.”
    Sarah, unable to hide her curiosity over his surprisingly conciliatory words, opened her puffy eyes slightly to look upon his face. His flared eyebrows were knit in a thoughtful, serious pose and his brown gaze penetrated hers with an intensity she had not seen before.
    “Sarah,Icannotapologizeformywordsor my actions, for they stem from the truth of this matter between us ... which is a mutual attraction.” Sarah quickly dropped her head, stemming the contradiction on her lips. He seemed to know what she would have said. “I know you cannot admit it to me, for you were reared to speak naught of such things. But I would not wish to be spurned before we have had the opportunity to know and understand each other ... and I see that my words have nearly done the deed. For that,” he whispered, pulling her closer, “I am truly sorry.
    “So,” he said rather gru ffly, and Sarah sensed this speech was an effort for him, “I will give you my word that no harm will come to you at my hands and I beseech you to reinstate your offer to allow me to court you – ‘as a gentleman courts a lady’ – I think you said. Whatever springs from our liaison will be because you desire it. Can you agree to this now?”
    Her head still bowed and her mind tumbling with a gamut of disjointed thoughts, she answered with the only comment she could honestly make. “I do not trust you.”
    “I can understand your feelings,” he replied. “And all I can