He halted in the act of fastening his shirt, and his gaze sharpened. “Are you asking me why I didn’t make love to you?”
Warmth flooded her cheeks. “I’m wondering why you didn’t touch me as I touched you.”
“It’s the same question, because if I had touched you in that way, we absolutely would have made love.”
“And you didn’t want that.”
His brows shot up. “On the contrary, I believe it was painfully obvious that I did. Not making love to you was solely a result of me considering you, not myself.” Leaving his shirt flapping open, he erased the distance between them. Lightly clasping her upper arms, his gaze searched hers. “Victoria, surely you realize that if we were to make love, I risk nothing, whereas you risk everything. Regardless of what else you may think of me, I am not a man to simply take pleasure without thought to the consequences. And to be brutally blunt, the time to ponder such decisions is not when one is sexually aroused or basking in the afterglow of pleasure.” His fingers flexed on her arms. “Something happens to me when I touch you…” He shook his head. “… hell, something happens to me when I’m in the same room as you. You impair my control. My good judgment.”
A thrill ran through her at his admission. “There is no point in me denying that I suffer from the same ‘something’ as you.”
Any thought that her admission would please him vanished with the troubled look in his eyes. “Then there is much for you to consider. And it’s best that we return to the house now.”
Releasing her, he stepped away to finish dressing. With a start she realized that it had grown quite late, the shadows of the approaching dusk an obscuring gray under the dense cover of trees. She brushed the wrinkles from her gown and repaired as best she could the havoc his hands had wreaked on her hair. When they both finished, he extended his arm with a courtly flourish, indicating she should precede him on the narrow trail leading back to the main path. As she moved past him, however, he reached out and snagged her hand, raising it to his lips. Although the light kiss he brushed over the backs of her fingers could be described as proper, there was nothing proper about the wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Just so you know, Victoria,” he said, his warm breath caressing her skin, “regardless of what other decisions might be made, I fully intend to have my revenge for the sweet torture I endured this afternoon at your hands. And I shall have it when you least expect it.”
Whoosh. Good lord, she needed to carry a bucket of water about so as to douse the flames this man ignited. He started down the narrow path, clearly expecting her to follow, no easy task when he’d reduced both her mind and knees to porridge with his announcement. But the encroaching darkness snapped her from her stupor and she hurried after him. The trail veered, and as soon as she rounded the bend, she saw him standing in the path ahead, clearly waiting for her. Her gaze narrowed on his face and she moved forward. Humph. Obviously he thought he could just toss out provocative statements then saunter away. Well, she’d show him that-
“Victoria!”
Nathan’s shouted warning came just as she was grabbed from behind by a muscled arm that trapped her against a hard chest. She saw the silver glint of a knife just as the blade was pressed against her throat.
Fifteen
In her pursuit of intimate fulfillment and adventure, Today’s Modern Woman may find herself in a situation that could be deemed dangerous. In that case, she must remain calm and stay focused on her objective: extricating herself from said situation. If all attempts at diplomacy fail, a well-placed kick will usually do the trick.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
“One sound, one movement out of you,” the man growled next to Victoria’s ear, “and you’ll seal your own fate.”
Terrified, she clamped her lips shut and ceased struggling, her gaze searching out Nathan.
Nathan started forward but skidded to a halt when the man jammed the knife tighter against her throat. His gaze flicked to hers and he shot her a look that clearly indicated she should listen to the madman with the knife.
“One more step and I’ll slit her ear to ear,” the man threatened in a tone that slithered dread down her spine.
“Let her go,” Nathan said in a frigid, steel-edged voice Victoria had never heard from him before.
“Happy to oblige ye, after I get what I want.”
“I’ll give whatever you want. After you let her go.”
“‘Fraid it don’t work like that, seein’ as how I’m the one holdin‘ the blade to her throat. Now, speakin’ of blades, I want ye to slip yours out of yer boot, real nice and slow, then toss it in the bushes. You make any fast moves, Doctor, and the lady’ll suffer.”
“You know who I am,” Nathan stated in a deadly voice.
“Who ye are and who ye were.” He jerked Victoria tighter against him. “Do as I said.”
Scarcely able to breathe with the blade pressed so tight against her throat, she watched Nathan, his gaze never shifting from the man’s face, slowly slip a knife from his boot, then toss it lightly toward the bushes. “Now let her go.”
“As soon as ye hand over the letter.”
“What letter?”
With the flick of his wrist the man nicked the skin beneath Victoria’s jaw and she gasped. Warm wetness trickled down her neck and black spots danced before her eyes at the realization that it was her own blood.
“Yer stupid question just gave the lady a scar. If ye ask another, it’ll cost her an ear. If ye claim ye don’t have what I want, she’ll lose her life. Understand?”
A brief pause, then Nathan said, “Yes.”
“I want the letter that was in the lady’s bag. Now. Hand it over, nice and slow, and I’ll be on my way.”
Dear God. She was going to die. Nathan didn’t have the letter here. She knew he’d try to save her, but what could he possibly do with no weapon and no letter? Her life was going to end. Here. Now. At the hands of this horrible man. Who would probably kill Nathan, too. Stark terror at the realization edged black around her vision.
“How do I know you’ll let her go once I give you what you want?”
“Guess ye’ll just have to take my word for it.” The evil chuckle next to her ear raised prickles all over her clammy skin. “Don’t worry, Doctor. My word’s as good as yours. Honor among thieves, you know.”
Drawing what was surely her last breath, she watched Nathan slowly reach down again, this time pulling a folded piece of ivory vellum from his boot. Shock trembled through her. The letter. He had it. Hope flooded her, pushing aside the fear that had momentarily crippled her.
But surely Nathan wouldn’t really give the letter, the map, to this brigand. Surely any second he would utilize some ingenious spy tactic to disarm and capture this thief. Instead, he slowly straightened and extended his arm, holding the note between his thumb and index fingers.
“Toss it,” her captor growled. “So it lands right nice near my feet. If it don’t, the lady will pay.”
The note sailed through the air. With her chin pointing nearly toward the sky, Victoria couldn’t see where the letter landed, but since her throat remained uncut, she assumed Nathan’s aim had been true.
“Now, on the ground, facedown,” the man ordered Nathan.
All right, any second now Nathan would employ one of his spy tricks to save them and disarm the man. She kept her gaze trained on his face, waiting for some sort of signal, some indication of what he wanted her to do, but his gaze never wavered from the man holding her. She watched, every nerve alert. Nathan lowered himself to the dirt path as instructed.