A Bride for the Taking Page 7

  Jake’s brows rose. ‘I take it you’re feeling better,’ he said drily.

  ‘The hell with you, Jake Prince.’ She slammed her fist against his chest. ‘Lying to me, making me think that—that there were things out there…’

  He caught hold of her wrist before she could hit him again. ‘There are things out there,’ he said tightly.

  ‘Cows,’ she said, spitting out the word as if it were a curse. ‘That’s what’s out there. Cows!’

  Jake glanced over his shoulder. ‘Yes.’ There was no humour in his voice. ‘That’s right—which means we’ve more reason than ever to get out of here now.’

  ‘Oh, please! I’ve milked far too many cows to run from one now, Jake. I hate to tell you this, but the party’s over.’

  A quick smile twisted across his mouth. ‘Cows, Miss Oliver? At WorldWeek magazine?’

  ‘At home, in Minnesota, not that it’s any of your business.’ She gritted her teeth as she twisted uselessly against his hand, then raised her reddened face to his. ‘All right, you’ve had your fun. You filled me full of lies and I swallowed just enough of them to go to pieces over nothing. Are you satisfied?’

  Jake’s mouth curved downwards. ‘I’ll be satisfied when we’ve got the hell out of here,’ he said. He glanced down at her feet. ‘Go on, get your shoes on and let’s get moving.’

  ‘Uh-uh.’ Dorian shook her head and crossed her arms over her breast.

  ‘Uh-uh?’ He went very still. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means,’ she said with great precision, ‘that nothing’s changed. I am not budging from this plane.’

  He smiled. Although it was not really a smile, she thought suddenly. It was—it was just a drawing back of his lips, a quick flash of white teeth, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

  ‘I could have been almost to the pass by now,’ he said softly, so softly that she had to strain to hear him.

  The pass? What pass? What was he talking about?

  ‘…stupid enough to come back for you.’

  Dorian tossed her head back. ‘I see.’ Her voice was sugary. ‘You came back for me.’

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. But I’m beginning to wonder why I bothered.’

  She smiled. ‘Why, Jake. You came back because you’re a gentleman. We both know that. Everything you’ve done, from the moment we met, has proved how gallant you are.’

  A muscle knotted and unknotted in his jaw. ‘Don’t be clever, Dorian,’ he said softly.

  ‘Why did you come back?’ She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent smile. ‘Come on, I’m sure you can come up with something creative.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t want your blood on my hands.’

  ‘That’s it? You can’t do better than a hackneyed old bit like that?’

  ‘Dammit, woman! I’ve no time for games.’ He took a step towards her and then, with a swiftness that stole her breath away, he gathered her to him and kissed her.

  It was a kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced. There was no gentleness in it, no tenderness; there was, instead, a wild, fierce passion that should have been terrifying.

  But it wasn’t. She felt the raging heat of his body as he held her to him, felt the questing demand of his mouth on hers, and before her heart could manage a beat she was on fire.

  ‘Yes,’ he said against her mouth, and he drew her closer until there was nothing in the universe but him, nothing but the feel of his lips, the heat of his hands, the urgent need of his hard body.

  She was trembling when the kiss was over, and unsure of which of them had ended it. Her eyes opened slowly and focused on his face, and she knew that it had been he who’d ended it.

  That she’d responded to his passion was humiliating enough, but this knowledge—that he had been able to think, to stop what was happening even while she was drowning in a whirlpool of desire—was devastating. She took a deep breath, then laid her hands against Jake’s chest.

  ‘You can let go now,’ she said. Her voice was steady despite the fact that inside she was a churning mass of warring emotions. ‘You’ve made your point.’

  A muscle ticked at the corner of his mouth. ‘Have I?’

  ‘You Tarzan, me Jane. That’s the message, isn’t it? Big, brave man comes back to save terrified woman.’ She forced her eyes to meet his. ‘I suppose you thought I’d fall into your arms with gratitude.’

  He drew her close to him again and she could feel the evidence of his desire.

  ‘You know what the message is, Dorian.’ His voice fell to a husky whisper. ‘I should have taken you in my car, back in New York.’

  Stunned, she stared into his insolent, unsmiling face, and then she balled her hands into fists and pushed against his unyielding chest.

  ‘You bastard! Who do you think you are? How dare you—?’

  ‘I could have found a motel for a few hours, and you’d have come to me, all quicksilver passion and desire, and to hell with the rest of the world.’ She began to struggle against him; his hand slid up to the column of her throat and he cupped her face and held it still. ‘I could take you now, just as easily,’ he said, his eyes fixed on hers, ‘in this plane…’

  ‘You…you son of a bitch. You—you—’

  ‘Or outside, in the meadow, with the sun heating your skin and the grass beneath you.’

  He bent to her and she struggled to turn her head, but he was strong, far stronger than she’d imagined. His mouth touched hers, gently, almost lazily, his kisses slow, druggingly sweet, and, to her horror, she felt the tremor start within her again, felt her bones turning to honey.

  Images blazed behind her closed eyelids: Jake, beautiful in his nakedness, his shoulders blotting out the sun as he came down to her; Jake, touching her flesh with slow, intimate knowledge, putting his mouth and tongue to all her secret places…

  Dorian groaned softly, and instantly a triumphant smile curved across his mouth.

  ‘That’s right, kitten. Think of how it’s going to be when I finally take you.’

  The smug words set her free.

  ‘And that’s exactly what you’d have to do to make love to me,’ she said, her eyes meeting his. ‘You’d have to take me, Jake, because I’d never go to you willingly.’

  He laughed. ‘Making love is just a fancy term for what we both want, Dorian.’ Her hand shot up and he caught hold of her wrist, his fingers like steel on the fragile bones. ‘Temper, temper,’ he said softly.

  She stared at him, her breasts rising and falling quickly, as if she’d just run a mile.

  ‘I hate you,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Do you understand?’

  His teeth glinted in a quick, cold smile. ‘I’d love to continue this discussion, but I’m afraid we’re running out of time.’

  Dorian tossed her head. ‘Don’t tell me we’re back to that!’

  ‘Last chance,’ he said. ‘Either you come with me willingly, or—’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘If I have to drag you out of here, it won’t be pleasant for either one of us.’

  ‘I’ll wait here, thank you.’ She wrenched free of him and leaned against the bulkhead. ‘The search party ought to be here soon, and—’

  ‘Are you stupid?’ He reached out and caught hold of her wrist. ‘There won’t be a search party. I told you that.’

  ‘You told me lots of things, and they were all lies.’

  Jake’s mouth whitened. ‘I am a lot of things, Miss Oliver,’ he said softly. ‘I am, perhaps, some of the things you’ve called me. But I am not—and never have been—a liar.’

  She stared up into his cold, furious face, and, for the first time, real doubt crept into her mind. She knew little about Jake Prince and what she knew she didn’t like—but would he lie? ‘Do you think I’m that petty?’ he’d once asked, and all at once she was fairly sure she knew the answer.

  But if he wasn’t lying, then his stories about bandits and barbarians were true. And if they were, then—then right now, this very minute…

  �
��Yes,’ he said, reading the growing fear in her eyes. ‘That’s right. We’ve pushed our luck as far as we can. Any minute now it’s going to start running out. Now, get your shoes on and let’s get the hell out of here.’

  He let go of her and turned towards the open doorway. Dorian stared after him while her brain worked furiously. Which was it? Was he telling her the truth? Were there men out there—cruel men, who got pleasure from rape and things that might even be worse? Or was it all a hoax? Was there nothing out there more harmful than a cow?

  ‘Well?’ Jake looked at her, his face dark. ‘Which will it be? Do I throw you over my shoulder and carry you, or are we going to do it the easy way?’

  Would he carry her, if she refused to go with him? Yes. He probably would. And if she was right—if there was a search party on the way, or if Kadar was a stone’s throw from here, that was not quite the way she’d want to make her entrance, draped like a bag of laundry over Jake Prince’s shoulder.

  It didn’t really matter if he was telling her the truth or not. The walk to Kadar would make terrific copy. That was reason enough to give in and go with him, wasn’t it?

  ‘All right.’ Jake moved swiftly towards her. ‘That’s it. You’ve had your chance—’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I mean, I’ve—I’ve decided to go with you.’

  His eyes fastened on hers. ‘But you still don’t believe me,’ he said softly, ‘do you?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  The muscle moved in his jaw again. ‘No.’ His voice was chill. ‘No, it does not. Just so long as you do as you’re told, we’ll get along just fine.’

  Dorian shrugged her shoulders, then bent down to get her shoes. ‘I’ll do whatever makes sense,’ she said.

  When she straightened up again, she found Jake watching her, his hands on his hips.

  ‘You’ve pushed and pushed,’ he said softly. ‘And now I’m warning you, Dorian. Don’t push me any further.’

  She flushed. ‘I might give you the same message.’

  ‘You’re to stay right behind me,’ he said, ignoring her remark, ‘and you’re not to say a word. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Jake’s mouth tightened. ‘We’re going to make straight for the trees. Once we’re in the forest, try to put your feet exactly where I’ve put mine.’

  Her mouth opened in the start of another quip, but she thought better of it.

  ‘OK.’

  He nodded. ‘Let’s go, then.’ He took her hand and drew her towards the door, and then he stopped. ‘One last thing. If anything happens to me, don’t stop. Just keep heading for the trees. That way, you’ll stand a chance of making it.’

  The words, and the way he said them, stopped her short. ‘Jake,’ she breathed, ‘Jake, wait a minute…’

  He bent and kissed her, hard and fast, then drew back and gave her a quick smile.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Down the steps and let’s hit the ground running.’

  And, since he still had her by the wrist, that was what she did.

  * * *

  The trees were further away than she’d thought. She was panting by the time they reached them, and she put out a shaky hand.

  ‘You’ve got to let me stop and catch my breath,’ she gasped.

  ‘Shut up,’ Jake hissed.

  She groaned as he tugged her after him until they were well within the dark forest. Branches whipped into her face and pulled at her hair like witches’ claws. When he finally whispered that they could take a break, she sank back against a tree trunk and drew great gulps of air deep into her lungs.

  ‘Better?’ His voice was low.

  ‘Yes,’ she puffed, and then she was sorry she had answered because it made him take hold of her hand again and push her deeper into the woods.

  This time, she didn’t waste breath begging him to stop, she just kept going, stumbling on rubber legs. It was all beginning to seem brutally real. Jake’s behaviour was more than cautious. He was—he was behaving as if the forest really might be dangerous.

  They stopped suddenly, and his arm snaked around her and drew her tightly into the hard curve of his body.

  ‘Stay perfectly still,’ he hissed into her ear.

  Dorian did more than that. She stiffened, her body becoming rigid. There were sounds in the brush. Voices. Voices. Men’s voices, speaking in a strange language. There was a guttural savagery to the voices that—that…

  She buried her face in Jake’s shoulder and he held her close, his hand stroking her hair, until the voices faded away, and then he squeezed her hand.

  ‘OK,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s move.’

  Each footstep sounded like a gunshot, each snapping tree branch like a whip. All she could pray now was that she’d been right, at least, about Kadar: that it was not terribly far, that reaching it would be an easy walk.

  They came out of the forest suddenly, stepping with no warning from darkness into sunlight. Ahead lay an endless plain with a single, badly rutted dirt road angling across it.

  Dorian blinked. ‘But—but where is Kadar?’ she asked in a breathy whisper.

  It seemed to take forever until Jake answered. ‘Do you see that mountain?’

  She did. It rose like a tiger’s tooth far in the distance.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But—but you don’t mean…’ She swallowed. ‘You can’t mean…’

  ‘I do mean.’ For the first time, there was a quality that just might have been compassion in his voice. ‘Those are the Cristou Mountains, Dorian.’ He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. ‘And Kadar,’ he said softly, ‘is on the other side.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  DORIAN glanced up at the sun. It had been high overhead when they’d begun their trek; now, it was midway towards the horizon. How long had they been at this, anyway? A million hours, by the feel of things. She was weary and sweaty, and the sole of her right foot felt as if it were slowly turning into hamburger. Her thin, low-heeled pumps had been designed for pavement, not for narrow dirt roads.

  Jake had set an unrelenting pace, one she’d had trouble matching. But she’d been determined to do it, driven as much by pride as by the cold chill that seemed to have settled between her shoulder-blades, the feeling that someone might just trot out of the forest and come after them.

  After a while, keeping up with him had become impossible. He had a long-legged, lean-hipped stride—it took almost two of her steps to match one of his—and finally she’d asked him if he could please slow down a little. By then, she’d fallen in just behind him and he hadn’t even bothered looking back when he’d answered her question with one of his own.

  ‘Can’t you keep up?’

  She hadn’t been able to see his face, but then, it hadn’t been necessary. His tone had oozed cold disdain.

  So much for compassion, she’d thought grimly, and she’d tossed back a quick response that had nothing at all to do with the truth.

  ‘Of course. I was just hoping I could have more time to enjoy the scenery.’

  That, she’d noted with satisfaction, had caught his attention. Jake had stopped dead in his tracks and swung around to face her.

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed,’ he’d said coldly, ‘this is not a guided tour.’

  ‘No,’ Dorian had answered, trying not to let him see that she was breathing hard. ‘But it will be part of the dispatch I file.’

  ‘I told you, you aren’t going to be filing a story about this.’

  Her smile had been sweet enough to lure an ant colony into a trap.

  ‘So you keep saying. But I will, eventually. You know that.’

  ‘Really?’

  His voice had become a threatening purr and she’d hesitated, suddenly wary of angering him in this desolate place. But then she’d looked into that hard, implacable face and her courage had come back in spades.

  Who was Jake Prince to think he could give her orders?

  ‘Really,’ she’d said, very calmly and very qui
etly. ‘Please don’t forget that it’s my job to tell WorldWeek’s readers about things that will interest them.’

  Jake’s eyes had gone dark. ‘No,’ he’d said in a chilly voice, ‘I won’t forget it, Dorian. Not for a minute.’

  And then he’d turned abruptly and marched on, never so much as sparing a glance to see if she’d followed him or not.

  Dorian made a face as a branch snagged her cotton jacket. As if she had a choice, she thought as she wrested it free. How else would she find her way to Kadar, if not trailing ten paces to the rear of Jake Prince? Her mouth turned down. Ten paces to the rear was how he preferred it, too. She was certain he was the kind of man who liked his women docile and valued them slightly less than his favourite polo ponies.

  She wondered, once again, just how long she’d been trudging along in Jake’s footsteps, following him mindlessly down this road like some—some servant girl out of another century. Yes. That was how she felt—as if they were marching not only towards Mount Cristou, but away from the present.

  She had never seen a place where there were no signs of the modern world. Even back in Minnesota, where the plains stretched on unbroken for miles, there were bits of man’s handiwork to remind a visitor that the land had been tamed. Cars. Telephone poles. Houses.

  But there was none of that here; there was just this ribbon of dirt stretching towards the mountains. And it was eerily free of other travellers. They hadn’t seen or even heard anyone since those awful moments in the forest.

  A little shiver danced up Dorian’s spine. She’d asked Jake who those men were, just before they’d started walking towards Kadar.

  ‘Were they bandits, do you think?’

  His answer had not been encouraging. ‘One side’s the same as the other, as far as we’re concerned,’ he’d said grimly.

  She was more than willing to agree. If hearing those guttural voices hadn’t been enough to convince her that Jake had been telling her the truth all along, then the feel of this strange countryside would have done it. Maybe it wasn’t the sort of proof reporters were supposed to look for, but then, some of the best journalists she knew talked about having a ‘nose for news’, which was just another way of saying they’d learned to trust their instincts.