Three Weeks Last Spring

by Howard, Victoria

  Her eyes darted round the room in frustration. She picked up a magazine and flicked through the pages, only to put it down again when it failed to catch her interest. She tried reading her book, but the words on the page distorted before her eyes. She was in no mood to watch TV and listening to music was out of the question as the CD player was on the shelf next to Walker and she was damned if she was going anywhere near him.

  She stood and walked over to the window and stared out. The scenery hadn't changed since she'd last looked. Walker's continued stony silence was getting to her and cabin fever hit hard. She felt hemmed in and wasn't sure how much more she could take before panic and hysteria set in. He'd taken her laptop and locked it away in a cupboard, pocketing the key in the process. She was too restless and frustrated to sit and do nothing; she needed a vent for her nervousness and all her pent up feelings. It was too early to go to bed and even if it weren't, the last thing she wanted to think about was sharing a bed with him under these circumstances—correction, under any circumstances.

  "Skye, sit down," Walker growled. "You're getting on my nerves wandering around the room all the time."

  "I can't. I'm too agitated. You've got me caged up like…like some circus animal."

  Walker's eyes darkened dangerously. "For God's sake! Do you think I'm enjoying this any more than you are?"

  Skye glared at him, the tension between them increasing with frightening intensity.

  "You're the one keeping me here against my will, so you tell me. I should be working. There are people relying on me. But you've already acted as judge and jury and found me guilty of some hideous crime. Well, let me tell you this, Mr. High and Mighty Walker, you're wrong. So wrong that when the police come looking for me, you're the one who's going to have some explaining to do, not me."

  Walker held her gaze. He didn't like what he saw there anymore than he liked the tone of her voice.

  "I'll be real pleased to see the cops. I'll even watch while they haul you away. Computer hacking is a federal crime in this country and we don't look too kindly on people who illegally dump chemical waste either. You'd better get used to being locked up, lady, because if I have anything to do with it, you'll be spending time in a place a lot smaller and less attractive than this cabin."

  "You're impossible! You're being totally unreasonable. I don't know why I'm bothering to talk to you since you won't listen to what I have to say. You know, I give up. You win. Arguing is getting us nowhere. I'm going to have a bath."

  Walker put his book down and started to rise from the chair.

  "And I don't need a chaperone!"

  Walker crossed the room with two quick strides and stood face to face with Skye. He tipped her chin with a finger, and looked down into her eyes. He smiled suggestively. "Oh, darlin', and here's me thinking you were issuing an invitation."

  Skye clamped her jaw shut and stared at him with pure raging hatred in her eyes. She slapped him hard across the face for the second time that day. Turning on her heels, she opened the bedroom door, slamming it so hard behind her that the windows of the cabin rattled.

  Walker rubbed his jaw. For such a small thing, she had one hell of a temper. This was turning out to be a day full of surprises. First the discovery of more fish, and washed up on his land too, then finding Skye hammering away at a laptop. And as if that wasn't enough, he'd seen reams of computer code on the screen. That was pretty damming evidence by anyone's standard.

  But in the back of his mind there lurked a tiny speck of doubt. What if she was telling the truth? She'd maintained her story throughout his aggressive questioning. If she really did design computer software, then he was going to look damned foolish, but it was a risk he would have to take. Better that than having her running around the countryside like a loose cannon. At least here in the confines of the cabin he could keep an eye on her. She was right—sooner or later someone would come looking for her and when they did, he'd be ready for them. In the meantime, he’d contact McCabe, bring him up to speed on developments, and let him know he'd be staying at the cabin for a while.

  Skye slid down in the hot water until she was submerged to her chin and tried to relax. It didn't work. She knew her only chance of escaping from this ridiculous situation lay with John, but could she rely on him to call her again anytime soon? Hopefully he wouldn't wait more than three or four days to contact her, as he would want to know whether she had solved the problem with the software. When he finally made contact, she'd scream bloody blue murder until Walker listened to him. If that didn't work, then hopefully John would have the sense to contact the British Consulate in Seattle and let them know that one Britain’s top software designers was being held captive by a crazed American.

  When the police or CIA or whoever knocked at the door, not only would Walker have no choice but to listen, but with luck, he would be arrested on kidnapping charges. When that happened, Skye would sit back enjoy every minute of his embarrassment as he attempted to worm his way out of that.

  She hated him now.

  She hated him with every inch of her being. Not only was she bitterly angry with him, she was angry with herself. How could she have been so stupid to relax her guard, when all her instincts told her that she should never trust a man, especially one she’d only just met? What made it worse was that she believed Walker was honorable, that he wasn't the type of man to use a woman. Although he hadn't said as much, she actually thought he cared about her. How wrong she'd been.

  Fury and humiliation choked Skye, but she wasn't about to give in. One thing was certain—this time she wasn't going to allow a man to bully or blackmail her into doing something against her will. She fought back the tears, and vowed to fight him every inch of the way until he admitted he was wrong. Then she'd walk away without a backward glance and with her head held high.

  Closing her eyes, she allowed the warm water to ease away the tension from her shoulders and considered her options once more. The man couldn't watch her twenty-four hours a day. He had to sleep at some point and that would be her chance to use the phone. As things stood, there was no way Walker would allow her within spitting distance of the instrument, but he might force her to answer, for the sake of appearances. Maybe she could turn that to her advantage.

  The only other option was to try and make a run for it. She still had the keys to her rental car, something Walker seemed to have overlooked. But he was bound to hear the engine start and as the man had the reflexes of some strange forest animal, how far could she get before he came after her in his truck?

  The question preying on Skye's mind was would he sleep heavily enough? It certainly wasn't going to be easy, not when he guarded her like the Kohinoor diamond. He was taller and stronger than her, so hitting him over the head with a heavy object seemed out of the question, although it might knock some sense into him. What she needed was something to give her an advantage, but what?

  Walker heard the water drain from the bath, and returned to his chair by the fire. He picked up his book, but paid no attention to the words on the page. A few moments later, Skye entered the room, wrapped in a large toweling robe. Her cheeks were flushed, and she’d pinned her damp hair to the top of her head, exposing the alabaster expanse of her neck.

  Something primitive stirred deep within him. Even though he didn't trust her, he still wanted her, damn it. He tried to ignore the ache in his crotch, but failed. One thing was certain being holed up with a hellcat for the next few days was going to be murder on his temper and libido.

  She crossed the room, barely glancing in his direction. Once in the kitchen, she set about making herself a sandwich. His voice cut through the air like a switchblade.

  "If that's supper you're making, make enough for two. I haven't eaten all day."

  Skye slapped butter on two slices of bread and layered it with cheese. "You can keep me here against my will, but I'm not your servant. If you're hungry you know where the refrigerator is, you can make your own damn sandwich."

  Sh
e carried a plate in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, and settled down on the sofa as far away from Walker as possible. She took a bite of her sandwich. One mouthful told her it was dry. Although it was like chewing cardboard, she would choke rather than admit it. She picked up her glass, took a long swallow, and wondered what the prison sentence for murder would be, because if Walker didn't cut her some slack and soon, she was sure to find out.

  Walker watched Skye with frank amusement. She was madder than a rooster locked out of the henhouse. Maybe keeping her out of the kitchen was a good idea. It wouldn't surprise him if she weren't thinking about ways to stick a knife in his back.

  "Want some mayo on that?" Walker asked. "It might make it easier to chew."

  Skye ignored him and took another bite. He suppressed a laugh—knew he'd riled her. No wonder she was still single. It would take a strong man to handle her. Under all that anger there was also a very passionate woman, and in different circumstances, he would have enjoyed the challenge of taming her. But he hated women who lied.

  "You're going to regret keeping me here like this. I'm not involved in your computer fraud, or anything else for that matter. I'm here on vacation."

  "We've already had this conversation and nothing you've said so far has convinced me that you're not tied up in this whole sorry mess. Unless you've got something new to tell me—"

  "Such as?"

  "Such as the name of your contacts and who's responsible for dumping the chemicals in the water around the islands."

  "I don't know why I'm repeating myself again, but I'm going to. I don't know what you're talking about."

  "In that case, shut up and let me eat in peace."

  "Bastard."

  A satanic smile spread across his lips. "There's no need to tell me what you think of me. I have no delusions as to what your opinions are. However, a lady shouldn't use such language."

  "You make me sick."

  "So you keep saying. It won’t make any difference. Now, I finish your milk like a good little girl and go to bed. I'll be along shortly to tuck you in."

  Skye stopped midway to the kitchen. "There is no way I'm sleeping in the same bed as you."

  "There's no need to yell, I'm not deaf."

  "No, just dumb," Skye muttered under her breath as she slammed her plate and glass down in the sink.

  Skye stared at the expanse of the large bed and thought about the first night they'd made love. Walker had been so tender that she could hardly believe he was the same hard stranger sitting in the next room. She dragged a blanket and a pillow from the top of the wardrobe.

  "The bed's big enough for us to share."

  Skye jumped, she spun round and glared at him with impassive coldness. "I'm not going to—"

  "You've made your feelings abundantly clear, as have I. I won't try anything. You have my word. Now just get in the damned bed and go to sleep."

  Skye stared wordlessly. She pressed both hands over her eyes. She was close to tears, but determinedly blinked them away. It had been a long day, and arguing with the man who had gone from stranger to lover to stranger again was futile.

  "How can I trust you, when you won't believe me?"

  The softness in her voice made Walker feel as if he'd been hit in the guts. The unwelcome tension between them stretched ever tighter until finally he let out a long, audible breath.

  "Despite what you might think of me at this moment, I'm an honorable man. I won't do anything to hurt you physically. I give you my word. Now please, just get into bed."

  For a millisecond Skye thought his attitude towards her might be softening, but then he shattered the illusion.

  "It's a pity you can't be as honest with me." He shrugged his shoulders, sat down on the side of the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks.

  Skye stood by the side of the bed, unable to tear her gaze from Walker's profile as he unbuttoned his shirt. When his hands went to the zipper on his jeans she felt the blood rush to her face. His nearness evoked too many memories. She retreated to the far side of the bed and turned back the covers. The thing she most feared was that he should see the confusion in her eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Walker became acutely aware of the sensuous woman sleeping in his arms. Nothing prepared him for the intimate picture they presented and for several minutes he remained perfectly still, listening to the birds’ early morning chorus and attempting, albeit unsuccessfully, to bring his breathing under control.

  He lay on his back, the crumpled sheet riding low on his hips. Skye lay in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Her rich auburn hair fanned out on his chest like a silken veil. His left hand held the soft fullness of her breast through the thin fabric of her nightshirt, and her right leg rested intimately between his.

  The birds weren't the only things stirring in the early dawn, he realized, and if Skye were to move her leg so much as a whisker she would encounter something a lot harder than his thigh muscle. Walker tried to forget about the heat building inside him, and reminded himself that Skye had made her feelings about sharing a bed with him abundantly clear. Given her state of mind last night, he had no doubt that if she were to wake now he'd probably end up with her knee in his groin.

  How ironic, they couldn't remain in the same room without arguing, and yet when they shared a bed their bodies gravitated towards each other as if it they were born to be lovers. Reluctantly he lifted his hand from Skye's breast. She moaned softly, but didn't stir nor did she turn away from the heat of his body. He listened to her rhythmic breathing, and remembered the three passionate nights they had shared, and wished his life hadn't completely and utterly collapsed in the space of day.

  Skye woke some time later and found herself alone in the large bed. Of Walker there was no sign—even his clothes had gone. For a brief moment she wondered if he'd relented and returned to wherever he lived. She was congratulating herself on her new-found freedom, when she heard the sounds of his whistling outside the window.

  Crestfallen, she sat on the side of the bed, and rested her head in her hands. It was too much to hope that he’d had a change of mind. At least he had kept his promise. She should be thankful for that, but the prospect of another day holed up in the cabin with him filled her with apprehension and dread.

  Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, and feeling far less confident than she looked, Skye went in search of breakfast. She carried her mug of coffee and a muffin from the kitchen, and stepped out of the cabin into brilliant sunshine.

  Walker's rich voice cut through the air. "I see you've finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. You've missed the best part of the morning."

  Skye screwed her eyes up against the glare of the sun, and look at him as if he had just crawled out from under a rock.

  "I think that depends on your point of view. The less time I spend in your company the better as far as I'm concerned."

  "So that's the way the wind blows."

  "What do you expect? Surely you don't think I would willingly play happily families while you keep me here against my will?"

  "I was hoping we could at least be civil towards each other, seeing how we're sharing a bed."

  Skye looked at her coffee mug and considered the satisfaction she would get from throwing it at him. "Go to hell, Walker."

  "In due time I probably will, but not before I see you and your nasty friends put behind bars."

  Skye didn't even dignify his statement with a reply. Instead, she concentrated on eating her breakfast and on finding a way to get through the day without committing murder. One thing was certain; if Walker continued his incessant tirade she was going to need a lawyer and a damn good one.

  "If you release your stranglehold on that mug, I'll get you a refill."

  He was right. Her fingers were white where they gripped the mug. What a pity it wasn’t his neck. She handed him the empty mug. Their fingers touched briefly and for one heart wrenching moment her body flooded with desire. But then sense kicked i
n and she snatched her hand away. Her desire dissolved into anger at the realisation, that despite his harsh treatment, she still loved him. The harder she tried to ignore the truth the more it persisted. But, she had to keep her distance from him in order to retain her sanity. And Walker was right—trading insults wasn't going to make her situation any more bearable.

  Skye was so lost in thought that when she opened her eyes, Walker was standing directly in front of her. She took a steadying breath, and accepted the mug he offered.

  "There's not much food. I haven't been grocery shopping in days. Don't you think we ought to go into town to stock up?"

  Walker snorted, not rising to the bait. "Make a list. I'll phone it through to the store and get them to deliver the order."

  "Okay."