The two men stared at one another. Simon could read the fear and uncertainty…and the desperation. It was the latter that worried him. Desperate men did desperate things.
He chanced a glance at Isabella and instantly regretted it. A thin trickle of blood ran in a rivulet down her neck. The beginnings of a bruise marred her cheek, and her eyes burned bright with fear. Anger, red and hot, seized him.
“Drop your knife and face me like a man,” he ordered. “Or are you content to hide behind a woman?” He attempted a sneering tone, hoping he could bait the man into a confrontation.
But the man stood steadfast, his knife never moving from her skin. “Get out or I’ll slice her throat.”
If only he had saved his bullet for this man, but he’d seen him too late. Now he had no weapon, and he couldn’t chance Isabella being harmed if he made a grab for her captor.
He held up his arms in a placating manner. “Don’t be hasty. I believe I have something you want.”
“Merrick, no!” Isabella hissed.
Simon ignored her and drew out the parchment from his breeches. He held it out to the man and watched as the man’s eyes brightened.
“Drop it on the floor,” the man said in an excited voice. “Then back away.”
Simon complied but only moved a scant distance away. The man was clearly torn as to what to do. He obviously wanted the map very badly. He had likely been offered an exorbitant amount of money if he could retrieve it.
In the man’s excitement, he made a huge mistake. Simon could scarcely contain his satisfaction as the man slashed the ropes at Isabella’s feet.
“Get the map,” her captor ordered, shoving her roughly to her feet. “And don’t try anything stupid or I’ll stick this knife in your back.”
Isabella twisted her body and slowly bent, reaching for the parchment as best she could with her bound hands. Just before her fingers grasped it, she glanced up at Simon. The question was obvious in her eyes, and he nodded ever so slightly, hoping she would catch on.
As she rose from the floor, the man reached over to snatch the map from her. In a swift motion, she arched her leg and kicked him squarely in the stomach.
It was all Simon needed. Shoving Isabella to the side and out of danger, he lunged for the man. The knife went flying along with the map as Simon bore him to the floor.
They rolled as Simon wrapped his hands around his opponent’s beefy neck. Using every ounce of his anger and strength to his advantage, Simon wedged his knee into the man’s abdomen so he was unable to draw a breath. He kept a tight grip on his neck, squeezing until the man’s face turned red and his struggles decreased.
With a ruthless twist, Simon snapped the man’s neck. His head rolled back as his lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.
Simon immediately scrambled over to where Isabella lay sprawled on the floor. She was desperately trying to free her hands. He hauled her upright and began working on the ropes. In moments she was free, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him.
Her heart pumped frantically against his chest, and he gripped her even tighter. Finally, she pulled slightly away and turned her face up to him, relief stark in her eyes.
Not caring how she reacted, he slammed his lips over hers, relief and pent up fear pouring out of him. She returned his kiss just as hotly as her hands raced frantically over his back and up over his shoulders. His fingers tangled in her hair as he sought to pull her closer to him. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her lips then scooted his mouth down the side of her neck.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he rasped.
“You saved me.”
He wrapped his arms tightly around her and crushed her head to his chest. The enormity of his emotion threatened to choke him, and he sought to gain control.
Finally he drew her away. His hands ran over her body, trying to convince himself she was all right. When he got to her neck, he clenched his jaw as rage burst over him again.
With gentleness that belied his inner turmoil, he wiped the blood from her skin. He ran a thumb over the bruise on her cheek then bent and brushed his lips softly over the mark.
“I’m sorry. I failed to protect you as I promised to do.”
She pulled away and grasped his face in both hands, forcing him to look her directly in the eye. “If it weren’t for you, I would have been dead a long time ago.”
To his astonishment, she pressed her body against his and captured his lips hungrily. It only took him a moment to recover. He responded eagerly to her advances, pausing only enough to draw a breath.
He felt her in every inch of his body as she poured over him. If a dozen thugs burst in and beat him senseless he wouldn’t care. He could die happy.
She fit perfectly. Her softness against the hard planes of his body. His hand came up and cupped her breast through her shirt, kneading the soft mound. A moan tore from her throat, and he swallowed it up as their kisses became more demanding.
