03 - The Wicked Lady by Brenda Jernigan

trembling lips. "Pa's not going to get us?"
    "No, son." Trevor gave him a reassuring smile. "We're going home."
    Trevor took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and dabbed the blood off Kristen's mouth. He felt her tremble the moment he touched her, and he wondered how much abuse she had suffered in the past. He'd seen only her brave side up until now.
    He pulled her next to him, and that's when he saw the silver brush and mirror. If that's what she went back for, he could have bought her a dozen of them.
    Now, he held a frightened young woman who really didn't deserve any of this. Something deep within him stirred, and he wasn't sure how to deal with the odd feeling. His pride and his passion were waging such a tug of war, he felt his insides were being wrenched from him.
    Kristen turned her head toward him "I'm sorry," she whispered, but to his surprise there were no tears in her eyes. The emerald jewels stared at him with a dull, haunting gaze that completely tore his heart out of his chest.
    Trevor pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. "It's all right."  e kissed the top of her head and said no more as he took a slow steady breath.  He wasn't sure what he felt at the moment. He knew it was a sensation he'd never really experienced before, and that was the reason he couldn't describe such feelings.
    But the one feeling he could identify was relief.
    Relief that Kristen hadn't run away from him.
    Relief that his little thief was safely in his arms.

Chapter Four
     
    As they were pulling up in front of the town house, and Kristen sighed with relief. She didn't know how to deal with this gentle version of Trevor she'd just seen.
    She much preferred the demanding man . . . the one she knew how to handle.
    They had just entered the house when he stopped her by gripping her elbow. She turned to look at him quizzically.
    Trevor took a deep breath, then said, "We need to talk in the library."
    She really didn't understand why he wanted to talk to her, but she said nothing as he guided her down the long hallway. She assumed the other Trevor was about to reappear.
    The room they entered was richly furnished with a cherry-wood desk and tall leather chairs. Bookcases stretched to the ceiling against every wall. A wooden ladder ran on a brass rail, making volumes on the higher shelves easy to reach. She wondered if Trevor had read all the tomes. She'd be happy if she could read just one, but education had never been high on her parents' list. "Common sense will get you by," her mother had told her several times.
    Kristen glanced down at her hands. She still clutched the brush and mirror, the only things she truly owned . . . she didn't even own a simple book, she thought sadly, moving over to one of the chairs she sat down. Trevor remained standing. He placed both hands on the back of a royal -blue couch as he stared at her.
    "I should know better than to trust a bloody Scot," he said with a disgusted sigh.
    Kristen stood. "I'm getting just a wee bit tired of ye callin' me a bloody Scot.  'Tis yerself tae blame for suggesting this arrangement." She shook her finger at him.  "What's this bloody thorn ye got in yer side, anyway?"
    "Sit down," he suggested firmly and she decided to comply for now.
    "Ian Johnstone killed my grandfather."
    "What did yer grandfather do to him?" Kristen challenged.
    "Not a thing."
    "Really?"  Kristen gave him a doubtful look. "Surely, he did something tae provoke him."
    "They had been business partners for years despite the differences between England and Scotland. There was a huge tract of land between their estates that they both coveted. And to make a very long story short, they quarreled and when it was over my grandfather was dead."
    "Did Johnstone shoot him?"
    Trevor straightened and moved around to sit on the settee. "No, my grandfather's heart failed."
    "Then ye can't blame Ian Johnstone for that. However, none of this has a thing tae do with me, now does it? I wasna e ven born