by Susan Napier;Kathryn Ross;Kelly Hunter;Sandra Marton;Katherine Garbera;Margaret Mayo
He arched her back over his arm, touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple, and she made a strangled sound of pleasure that set his blood to pounding in his ears. He took her hand from his chest, stroked the palm with the tip of his tongue, then slid it under his shirt.
‘Touch me,’ he whispered.
Touch him. Oh, yes, Brionny thought, that was what she wanted to do. She ached to touch him, to explore the hardness of his body. She thrust her fingers into the soft mat of hair that covered his chest, danced them across the hard layers of muscle that were so hot beneath her hand. She stroked his flat, taut abdomen and then hesitated, wanting to touch him even more intimately but afraid to do it, afraid of this sudden, driving need that was so terrifyingly new.
Slade clasped her wrist, brought her hand down his body, over the straining denim of his jeans to his aroused maleness, and she gasped at his heat, at the power she had unleashed.
‘Feel what you do to me,’ he said thickly.
She knew what she did to him, knew what he did to her. But it was wrong. It had to be wrong—although at the moment she couldn’t remember why, couldn’t remember anything but the feel of being in Slade’s arms.
‘Wait,’ she said urgently. She caught his wrist, stilled his hand against her breast while she fought for control. ‘Please, Slade. We—we can’t—’
‘We can.’ His voice was low, fierce with elemental need. ‘All I have to do is—’ He lifted her, brought her across his lap so that she was straddling him. He cupped the back of her head, brought her mouth to his and kissed her. He put his lips to her ear, whispering what he wanted to do to her.
The husky words sent fire racing through her blood. When he lifted his knees, she eased back against his upraised legs, her eyes closed, her heart hammering, riding the hardness of his body, luxuriating in the feel of him against her and under her. Her hips lifted, moving instinctively to welcome that full male pressure.
His fingers moved against her shorts and the zipper hissed open. Slade spread his hand against her belly, his touch silken on her warm skin as it brushed lower and lower…
A roar rent the night. The sound was primitive and terrifying, and Brionny froze in Slade’s arms.
‘The jaguar,’ she whispered.
‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’ His voice was gruff, impatient. ‘He’s not going to bother us.’
She sat up straight, her spine stiff with tension. ‘But where is he? He sounds so close!
Slade cursed softly. Then he sighed, reached for her, and drew her into his arms. Brionny buried her face against his shoulder as he soothed her, his hand stroking gently against her back.
‘The jag’s made his kill by now,’ he said. ‘He’s not interested in us.’
‘But that roar—’
‘It was a roar of self-satisfaction. The cat’s no different from any other predator.’ Slade smiled, pressed a kiss against her temple. ‘He has what he wants, and now the world belongs to him.’
Brionny went very still. It was such a simple analogy—and such a humiliating one. The jaguar had made its kill—and Slade had almost made his.
He wanted the emerald—the emerald he was certain she had. He would do anything to get it—and, with her eager assistance, he almost had.
That was what this seduction scene had been all about.
God, how could she have been so stupid?
A taste as bitter as ashes filled her mouth.
‘Let me go,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Sweetheart, trust me. There’s nothing to be—’
‘Trust you?’ Brionny’s voice rose. ‘Trust you? I’d sooner trust a whole nation of headhunters!’
‘Bree, I promise, the cat won’t—’
‘Damn the cat!’ She pulled away from him, shifting off his lap and out of his arms, angry enough to ignore the drop beneath them as she scooted back along the branch. ‘And damn you, Slade McClintoch! You’re disgusting! I wish I could—I wish I could—’
‘What?’ His voice had gone cool and flat. ‘What do you wish you could do, lady? Take back the last few minutes? Pretend you’d never lowered yourself to my level and trembled in my arms?’
‘If I was trembling, it was only because—because I was forcing myself to endure—’
‘Oh, yeah. Right. You sure as hell were “enduring” me, Stuart.’ Anger at himself for wanting her made him cruel and reckless. ‘That’s what those little sounds you made were all about. That’s why you were rubbing against me as if—’
‘Don’t be insulting, McClintoch! I went along with it just to see how far you’d go to get what you want.’
Slade’s mouth twisted. ‘Meaning I was making love to you so you’d tell me where you’ve hidden the emerald?’
‘Making love? Is that what you call the way you were pawing me? Maybe it wows the belles in Italpa, but—’
Slade’s hand flashed out and caught hold of her wrist.
‘Don’t push your luck,’ he said. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere, and there’s nothing that stands between you and whatever’s out there—except me.’
‘You seem to have forgotten that whatever’s out there is following the both of us.’
She could see the chill flash of his smile, even in the darkness.
‘Ah, but that’s only a temporary condition, isn’t it, sweetheart?’
‘I’m not good at riddles,’ she snapped. ‘If you’ve something to say—’
‘It’s simple, lady. I have your supplies. I have your gun. And, sooner or later I’ll have your emerald.’
‘I’ve told you and told you, I don’t have—’
‘Skip the lies, Stuart. I’m going to get that stone and when I do this little game we’ve been playing will take on a new set of rules.’ Slade let go of her and leaned back into the forked branch. ‘Is that clear enough?’
It was clear, all right. Once he got what he wanted—if he got what he wanted—she’d be on her own. Whether she got back to civilization or not would be her worry.
It certainly wouldn’t be his.
‘Well?’ Slade’s voice was gruff. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t got some kind of snappy comeback. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you’ve always got to have the last word.’
Brionny’s chin rose. ‘There’s no advantage in having the last word over someone who’s not up to the challenge,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m going to try and get some rest. I’d appreciate it if you’d shut your mouth and do the same.’
If her feet had been on the ground, she’d have pivoted on her heel and marched off. Instead she did the best she could, shifting her weight recklessly, swinging her leg across the branch, and turning her back to Slade.
She would ignore him for the rest of the night. She wouldn’t sleep, of course. For one thing, her adrenaline was pumping like crazy, and then there was the fact that she was sitting in mid-air, with the ground an awfully long way down, something she’d somehow managed to forget until now.
Slade seemed to read her mind.
‘If you try to sit balanced like that all night,’ he said with a resigned sigh, ‘you’re almost certain to fall off.’
‘Thank you for worrying about my comfort,’ she said primly. ‘But I’m fine.’
‘You’re perched out there like an acrophobic Humpty Dumpty, Stuart, which is pretty stupid when you consider that the whole idea of climbing up here was so we could relax and get some rest.’
‘Your concern is touching, but—’
‘Concern? Listen, lady, once we’re out of here you can walk a tightrope across El Kaia Gorge, for all I care. But for now, while I’m in charge—’
‘Put your mind at ease, McClintoch. You’re not in charge. And I’ve no intention of falling.’
He laughed unpleasantly. ‘Neither did Humpty Dumpty.’
‘I can’t possibly fall because I won’t be asleep,’ Brionny said, ignoring his puny attempt at humor. ‘So you see—’ She yelped as Slade reached forward, put his
arms around her, and dragged her into his embrace. ‘How dare you? Let go of—’
‘Relax. I’ve no evil designs on your body.’
‘Dammit, McClintoch! Let me go!’
His arms tightened around her. ‘How can I steal the Eye of God from you if you fall out of this tree and get eaten by a jaguar?’
‘You said the jaguar was—’
‘I know I did. But you can’t believe anything a man like me says, Stuart, remember?’
‘You won’t get any argument from me,’ Brionny said tightly.
‘Exactly. Now, lean back against me, shut your eyes, and go to sleep.’
‘Sleep? Like this?’ She folded her arms over her breasts. ‘You have to be kidding.’
‘Well, I’m going to get some sleep. What you do is your business.’
‘In that case, let go of me.’
‘With pleasure, once the sun rises and we’re on the ground again.’ Slade tugged her unyielding body back into the cradle of his, then brought her head to his shoulder with a firm hand. ‘Until then, you can sit here and count the ways you hate me.’
‘There aren’t enough hours in the night for that!’
‘Or you can stop being an ass and relax.’
‘It would be easier to relax with the jaguar.’
‘I wouldn’t wish you on the cat. Your claws are more lethal than his.’
‘Honestly, McClintoch—’
‘I warn you, Stuart, my patience is wearing thin.’
‘Your patience? What do you mean, your patience? I’m the one who—’
Slade caught her chin in his hand, turned her face to him, and silenced her with a hard, swift kiss.
‘Keep talking,’ he said, ‘and I’ll just have to think of some other ways to shut you up.’
Brionny’s hands knotted into fists. ‘I hate you,’ she snapped. ‘Do you understand? I hate you, Slade McClintoch!’
‘Yeah.’ He yawned, put his head back, and shut his eyes. ‘I understand completely.’
‘I hope so,’ she said angrily, ‘because—’
A soft, rasping sound purred from Slade’s throat. Brionny stared in disbelief, then rolled her eyes to the sky.
Damn Slade McClintoch to hell! Wasn’t it bad enough that she was trapped in his arms for the balance of the night? Did he have to snore, too?
She was just going to have to sit here and endure it. She wouldn’t even be able to relax. Relaxing would be…She yawned, then yawned again. Relaxing would be—it would be—
Her head drooped against Slade’s shoulder. She gave a deep sigh and fell headlong into sleep.
‘Bree?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Bree. Wake up.’
Brionny sighed. What a strange way to have fallen asleep, she thought drowsily. She was half reclining against something unyielding yet incredibly comfortable; her arms were enclosing not her pillow but something warmer and far more pleasant.
‘Sweetheart.’ A voice whispered softly in her ear, stirring the tendrils of hair that curled back from her cheek. ‘Bree, you have to wake up now.’
Slowly, her lashes lifted from her cheeks. In the early dawn light Slade’s face was a breath from hers. He had a look on his face that was impossible to define, like a man caught midway between heaven and hell.
‘Bree.’ His gaze swept across her face. ‘Bree, I want you to listen to me.’
How could she listen when she was trying to figure out how she’d ended up lying in his arms? With a flurry of limbs, she tried to put some distance between them but his hold on her was like steel.
‘I might have figured you’d try and take advantage of me the one second I let down my guard! Just because I dozed off it doesn’t mean you’re free to—’
‘You’ve been asleep the whole night,’ he said, his voice low and humming with a strange kind of tension.
Brionny snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never—’
‘Listen to me, Bree.’
‘Why? So you can invent more lies?’ She slammed her fist against his shoulder. ‘Let go!’
‘Will you listen to me?’
‘Get your hands off me first.’ Slade muttered a word that made her cheeks turn scarlet. ‘You have no principles at all, McClintoch. A man who has to resort to such subterfuge—’
She gasped as his mouth dropped to hers. She struggled wildly against his kiss. Then, slowly, she went still. Her breath quickened—and Slade took his lips from hers and pressed them to her ear.
‘In a little while,’ he whispered, ‘we’re going to have company.’
She drew back and stared at him, seeing for the first time the grim look in his eyes.
‘The jaguar?’ she said.
‘No such luck,’ he said, and hesitated. He could see doubt creeping into her eyes. She knew what he was going to say, and she didn’t want to hear it.
Damn! Moments before, he’d heard the drums again, heard the change in their rhythm, and he was certain there was going to be an attack soon. Still, there was a possibility he could turn things around—if he could convince Brionny that he was telling her the truth.
But how? How could he change the doubt in those blue eyes to belief? It had to be done quickly. There was no time to waste on another round of argument.
There was one chance. He could do what Brionny was sure he’d been doing all along. He could lie, though he didn’t much like the idea…
‘I hope this isn’t going to be another story about the Mali-Mali,’ she said coolly, ‘because if it is—’
Hell, Slade thought, lying to her was better than letting her sit here like a target in a shooting gallery.
‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to frighten you, but I saw something a few minutes ago.’
She stared at him, eyes watchful. ‘What?’
‘Two of their scouts. They were out there, just past those trees.’
She followed his pointing finger. He could see the change coming over her face.
‘Are you sure?’
Slade drew her closer, hating himself for what he was doing yet praying it would do the job.
‘Positive.’
She nodded. ‘At least we have a gun.’
‘Yeah, I thought of that.’ This was easier, because this was the truth. ‘Trouble is, I could only get a couple of them before—’
‘If you’re not a good shot,’ she said quickly, ‘I am.’
‘That’s not the problem.’
‘Then what is?’
‘We don’t know how many headhunters there are, but we’re certainly outnumbered. And our visitors will be bristling with poisoned darts, bows and arrows—against our one gun.’ Slade tried to smile. ‘The odds aren’t in our favor.’
Brionny knew he was right.
‘Then what do you suggest?’
Slade hesitated. ‘There’s one thing that might work.’
‘What is it?’
‘You’re not going to like it.’
She smiled a little. ‘I don’t like the idea of being turned into a Mali-Mali pincushion either. Try me.’
He drew a breath. ‘If you give up the stone, we might just have a chance.’
She didn’t like it. The doubt came back into her eyes and she shook her head, an automatic denial on her lips.
‘I don’t—’
That was as far as she got. A sound interrupted her, carried toward them on the still morning air, a soft rustling, as if an animal—or a man—was moving stealthily through the trees.
Slade’s heart slammed against his ribs. ‘Shh,’ he murmured.
Brionny sank back into his arms, her eyes fixed on the tangle of greenery at the far side of the clearing.
Was someone coming? The leaves and vines were so thick, the sun so faint as it tried to penetrate them, that it was almost impossible to see anything, but she thought—she thought she could see—
She managed only one swift intake of breath before Slade’s hand clapped over her mouth.
Below,
branches and leaves shifted delicately, exposing bits and pieces of the face that hid within them. Brionny had a glimpse of dark eyes set in a broad face—and then it was gone.
She swung toward Slade, her mouth trembling. He nodded grimly and put his finger to his lips.
The time for negotiation was over.
Quickly he grabbed the backpack, jumped noiselessly to the ground, and held up his arms. Unhesitatingly Brionny dropped into them. He wanted to hold her close, ease the fear from her eyes, but there wasn’t time.
‘We’ll be fine,’ he whispered, wishing he really believed it. He kissed her gently before setting her on her feet. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you, sweetheart. I promise.’
He took her hand, the clasp of his fingers firm and comforting, and drew her swiftly into the trees.
Chapter Seven
THEY HAD been traveling through the rainforest for hours before Slade held up his hand.
‘If you hear the Mali-Mali,’ Brionny panted, ‘I don’t want to know about it.’
‘Stuart—I think I know where we are!’
She would have laughed, but she didn’t have the energy. ‘So do I. We’re smack in the middle of a big blank space on the map.’
‘I read something about a mining company that came in here a few years ago.’
‘So?’
‘So, our luck may be improving.’
This time she did laugh. ‘From what, McClintoch? Desperate to just plain awful?’
Slade pushed a tendril of damp hair back from her smudged face. ‘Can you hang in a little longer?’
As if there were a choice, she thought. ‘Sure,’ she said, and followed after him, deeper into the jungle.
Miles later, she came staggering around a bend and stumbled into him.
‘Slade,’ she moaned, ‘I can’t go another step. Don’t you think the Mali-Mali must have given up by now? If they were still after us, they’d have—’
