Page 36 of Suspicion

“I’m going to cut you down and take you inside the cabin.” Reaching into his pocket, he produced the same blade he’d used to create fire next door, his gaze darting to the rope above her head. “You might find it difficult to stand, so if you need to, hang onto me.”

Hang onto him? She rolled her eyes, thankful his current position meant he didn’t notice the gesture. The last thing she needed was another dose of his so-called punishment, but who was he trying to kid? Ella couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to hang onto less than Tucker. He was the man who’d inflicted the hurt on her in the first place. He could scarcely be the remedy for it.

“Ready?” He moved closer, snaking an unwelcome arm around her middle, but she noticed that at least he didn’t try to grope her.

“I’m ready.” She was starting to find her voice again, her pulse quickening at the prospect of freedom—or the closest approximation of it she’d known for several hours.

“Okay.”

Holding her breath, she craned her neck just in time to see his blade slice through the rope. He slipped his knife away, his grip on her never easing as she wriggled her fingers. Freed from their stretched stance, she expected her arms to fall between them, but time played its strange game again, elongating reality as they hovered in thin air. Then, as though someone had hit play on the movie of her life, her arms plummeted as if they were made of lead.

Without the rope’s support, her legs buckled, and she realized that had it not been for his body, she’d have doubtless collapsed to her knees.

“I’ve got you.” His voice sounded distant, even though he was right there in front of her.

“What?” She couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

Was her head spinning, or was the barn moving around her? It took a moment for her to accept that neither of those scenarios was playing out. Instead, Tucker seemed to have swept her into his arms and was carrying her toward the barn door.

Chapter Five

The Pie

Tucker

She clung to Tucker with bound wrists as he carried her to the cabin, but as they passed through the threshold, her head fell heavy against his bicep as though she was asleep.

He admired her beautiful face as her breathing slowed, eyeing the mark that the gag’s strap had branded on her pale skin. Her toil had taken its toll. She was well and truly worn out after the night in the barn.

“You can rest.” His voice was soft, conscious that he didn’t want to wake her, that he’d done enough already.

She was the picture of serenity in his arms—quite unlike the wildcat he’d been forced to restrain—but even the wildcat hadn’t warranted all the treatment he’d delivered.

She’d have run without restraints. He inhaled at the certainty. Hell, she had run even with them.

But still… His brow furrowed as he recalled how uncomfortable she must have been. He’d been over the top to tie her that way.

He’d been cruel.

A pang of something akin to remorse echoed in his chest as he recalled how she’d been compelled to remain while he was curled up in the hay. He hadn’t treated her fairly, and he knew it, but as he grappled with his guilt, he saw flashes of the way she’d looked in the half-light—her bared breasts and delectable ass exposed and vulnerable.

Fuck.

He paused in the middle of the cabin, overwrought by the sudden intensity of the memories. Yes, his treatment of her had been callous, but by God, she’d looked as hot as hell hanging there in his ropes.

He wanted more of that, and as he closed the distance to the bed, he realized there was no point in lying to himself about the desire. He’d never accepted Ella for anything more than surety for her father’s debt, but that was before he’d seen her—before he’d gotten to know her.

She wasn’t only a physical delight. The woman had a sharp wit melded with what he suspected was a raft of experiences to share. If he’d been in the market for a match, she might have been perfect.

“But I’m not.” His whisper was curt as he laid her gently on the covers. Ducking beneath the structure, he pulled his woven blanket from its hiding place and stretched it over her sleeping form.

Taking a step back, he took a moment just to look at her. Covered in the blanket, she looked even more helpless than she had in the barn. The baby blue bedspread across her body had been handmade by his mother, Sarah, and was about the only thing of hers that he still owned. Tucker couldn’t decide if the matriarch would have approved of the beauty curling up under it. Sure as hell, she wouldn’t have favored the circumstances by which she was there on his bed.

“Forget Mum.” Pressing his lips into a hard line, he turned and walked back to the door. Pushing it closed, he started work on a new fire.

Keeping busy helped to keep his thoughts under control, so he used his blade to spark the flames rather than matches. The latter were kept for emergencies when time and tolerance were short, but Tucker preferred the old ways. By the time the flames were licking at the fresh logs in the hearth, his mind was finally free of his mother. She often haunted his mind but never lingered for long.

He glanced over his shoulder as he rose, noting that Ella was still fast asleep. Best that he emptied the barn of his paraphernalia, then started work on a meal for them. Failing to feed her the day before had been another area where he’d been remiss, and that had to change. However he might feel about the dazzling blonde currently sighing against his pillow, he had a moral duty to feed her. That much was obvious.

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