Sweet Bondage by Dorothy Vernon Page B

have but to enlist his help—if that were possible? She couldn’t get it out of her head that he wasn’t sincere, that he was playing a macabre game of cat and mouse with her. That he was having a bit of fun at her expense and hadn’t the slightest intention of assisting her.
    â€˜Will you take me to the mainland, Andy?’
    â€˜How badly do you want to go?’
    She swallowed tightly. ‘I’ll pay you well. I haven’t any money on me now, but I’ll make a note of your address and when I get home I’ll post it on to you.’ She silently cursed herself for not having the foresight to bring Glenda’s handbag with her. Her bid to escape had been the impulse of a moment’s thought. She’d needed to get away quickly, before Maxwell realized what she was doing and before she lost her nerve. It hadn’t entered her mind to go upstairs to her bedroom to fetch the handbag, even if she would have dared to waste the extra precious minutes. ‘I’ve a tidy sum saved up in the bank. It’s yours if you’ll help me to get away now.’
    His head went from side to side in refusal. The hot gleam in his eye sent cold shivers down her spine. ‘Promises are no good.’
    â€˜Trust me. I’ll send the money.’
    â€˜I want payment now.’
    â€˜How can I pay you now? Be reasonable. I’ve just told you I haven’t got any money on me,’ she said, trying to keep annoyance out of her voice.
    â€˜Who said anything about money? Did I? There are other ways to pay. If you set your mind to it I’m sure you’ll think of a way that’s acceptable to both of us.’
    â€˜Are you saying what I think you are?’ She hoped, forlornly, that she was mistaken in what she thought.
    He smiled slyly. ‘What’s good enough for Mr. Ian is good enough for me.’
    â€˜Forget it!’
    She made as though to go, but his arm shot out, barring her way. She tried to duck underneath, but his fingers, long and as powerful as she had dreaded they would be, gripped her by the shoulders.
    â€˜Don’t tell me you’re not missing it! Your man on his back and no telling if he’ll be of use to you again.’
    â€˜Take your hands off me.’
    She realized that, although he was by no means drunk, he had been drinking—enough to impair his judgment, give him the courage, or the foolhardiness, to step out of line.
    She couldn’t think where her judgment had been in thinking that he would help her in the first place. He worked for Maxwell. He wasn’t going to put his job at risk by assisting her to escape. Maxwell wouldn’t stand for that. Even if the bargain Andy was making had been acceptable to her, which it wasn’t, he wouldn’t have kept his side of it
    But Maxwell wouldn’t condone this, either. Didn’t he know that he was putting his job in jeopardy by even touching her? His alcohol-laden breath filled her nostrils, its unevenness telling of his sexual arousal.
    â€˜Don’t be a fool, Andy. Let me go.’
    â€˜Mr. Ian’s got good taste. All I want is a little kiss. Surely you can’t begrudge me that?’
    His lips were slippery against her cheek as she turned her face away and deflected the kiss from its intended target
    â€˜You’re a bonny wee lassie,’ he groaned thickly. ‘The laird must be half out of his mind, holed up with you and him with the burden of misplaced loyalty to that weak brother of his forbidding him to take a bite. Unless . . . maybe you haven’t been missing it at all. A man’s own needs can strain the fiercest loyalty and the laird’s a man, true enough. A fine, virile specimen at that.’
    Wave upon wave of distaste and abhorrence washed through her. She could hardly believe that this conversation was taking place. The firm hold he had on her didn’t give her a lot of room to maneuver. She managed to lift her hands to