Sweet Bondage by Dorothy Vernon Page A

disapproval, marking her cautious progress. She hoped that Maxwell and Angus were too deep in conversation to observe the creak the ancient hinges made as she inched open the cloaks’ cupboard door and grabbed her coat. She contemplated leaving the door open to save a repeat of the noise, but decided against it. The open door would be the first thing Maxwell saw on coming out of the main room and his suspicions would be immediately alerted. Without that tell-tale sign he would think she was either upstairs or still in the kitchen, and she needed all the advantages she could get to work out how to start the boat. The protesting hinges again made the grating sound. She waited a moment and her heart thumped against her rib cage. Her held breath burned tightly in her throat before she expelled it in a sigh of relief as she let herself out the main door, where she pulled her boots back on, tucking the turned-up legs of Fiona’s jeans into them, and set off at a cracking pace.
    She arrived at the boat, her cheeks red from the intense cold and the exertion of running. Before untying it from its moorings she thought it best to step aboard and see if she could figure out the controls. It was more than a step, actually, it was a heart-in-the mouth jump. The first hurdle over, she gave herself a moment to regain her balance and get used to the motion of the boat before going over to the wheel.
    She was biting her lip in absorbed confusion over the instrument panel, wondering which lever to pull and which knob to turn, and she didn’t hear the step behind her announcing an alien presence. The first intimation she had that she wasn’t alone came when a hand touched her arm. She jerked away in revulsion, just as if her senses had darted ahead of her reasoning and told her that it was someone to cringe from. She swung round and looked in dismay into Andy’s weasel-eyes.
    â€˜Going somewhere?’ he sneered.
    She could have screamed at her own stupidity. She ought to have known that Maxwell wouldn’t have got deep into conversation, leaving her to her own devices, with the boat unattended.
    Quite apart from the fact that she had seemed so near to escape, it was frustrating to realize that once again Maxwell would have the last laugh. She remembered how he had let her go before, knowing she was running smack into the arms of his helpers, and his delight in watching her realize the fact
    Andy was small for a man, not much taller than she was herself, and slightly built. She wondered for a reckless moment if she could overpower him and go ahead with her plan to escape. Almost immediately she dismissed the idea as being preposterous. These thin, wiry types often possessed superhuman strength and she suspected that in a clinch of that nature, or any nature, Andy would be cruel.
    Almost as if he’d dipped into her mind and taken out the dark thoughts hovering there, his eyes flicked over her in a sensual way that was full of implied meaning, and she shuddered at what might happen if he overcame her. He was watching her intently. She could feel the lecherous probing of his slit eyes even though she had averted her face. The way he looked at her made her feel unclean. If he offered to touch her she didn’t know what she would do.
    â€˜Thinking of taking a little trip, were you?’
    â€˜Yes.’ There was little point in denying the obvious.
    â€˜Back to the mainland?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜The laird said you came of your own free will.’
    â€˜Then I want to leave of my own free will.’
    â€˜You said he was kidnapping you.’
    â€˜Did I?’
    â€˜Know how to handle a boat, do you?’
    â€˜What’s it to you?’
    â€˜I just thought you might need some help.’
    â€˜Would you help me?’
    â€˜I might. He’s no right to keep you here if you don’t want to stay, even if he is the laird.’
    She didn’t trust him, but what alternative did she