A Flood of Sweet Fire

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A Flood of Sweet Fire Page 7

by Sandra Marton


  'Breakfast,' he said ruefully, perching on the edge of the table. 'I hope you don't take cream and sugar, because we haven't either.'

  Blair sat down in a chair opposite him and lifted the cup to her lips. The coffee was rich and delicious. Her eyes closed with pleasure as it slipped down her throat. 'Good?' he asked.

  Her eyes opened and she stared at him. 'Good,' she admitted finally. 'Very good, as a matter of fact.'

  He grinned. 'Half the tuna's yours,' he said, pushing the tin towards her. 'More, if you like. I remember you said you were hungry last night. In fact, you seemed more interested in food than in going to bed.'

  His eyes glinted with amusement. Blair felt a flush rise up from her breasts towards her face.

  'We didn't go to bed, Hunter.'

  'Didn't we?" he asked with great innocence. 'Funny, I could have sworn we did. How else could I have awakened with your head cradled on my shoulder this morning, Blair?'

  'My head was not on your shoulder,' she said quickly. 'We were sleeping together .. .'

  'We were not sleeping together. We simply went to bed .. .'

  'Which was what I said in the first place.'

  His voice had a smug, self-assured tone. Blair started to answer and then thought better of it. Instead, she shoved the tin of tuna towards him and pushed her chair back from the table.

  Hunter's eyebrows rose. 'Don't tell me you're not going to tuck into this feast I prepared for you.' 'Enjoy it yourself,' she said stiffly. 'I'm not much for tuna.'

  'I'm sure you're not,' he said carefully. 'Matter of fact, I'd prefer bacon and eggs, or croissants, or damned near anything else myself. But tuna's the only item on the menu this morning.'

  'Then I'll just have coffee, thank you.'

  'Eat up, Blair,' he said softly. 'I don't want you to starve to death on my account.' .

  'No,' she said, her eyes cold, 'I'm sure you wouldn't.

  I wouldn't be worth anything to you then, would I?' 'That's true,' he said, 'but that's not what I was·· thinking.'

  His eyes roved over her, mentally stripping away her trousers and sweater, and she knew he was thinking of how she'd looked the night before. All at once, nothing mattered more than keeping herself fit and strong, and surviving the ordeal she was suffering at his hands.

  'I don't really give a damn about what you were thinking, Hunter,' she said, pulling the tin of tuna towards her. 'But you're right. There's no sense in going hungry.' She forked some tuna on a biscuit and bit into it. Not even caviar could have tasted better, she thought as she swallowed. She gulped the remaining biscuit down and licked the crumbs from her fingers.

  Hunter laughed softly. 'Good?'

  It was useless to try and pretend otherwise. Blair sighed and nodded her head. 'Wonderful,' she said through a mouthful of tuna. 'I can't remember the last time I was this .. .' She broke off and stared at him. 'Aren't you eating?'

  'Later,' he said, waving his hand.

  'But you haven't eaten since ... You didn't even have any of those cakes yesterday. You ...' She put down the biscuit as the tuna turned to paste in her mouth.

  'Now what's wrong?' Hunter stared at her and began to laugh. 'God almighty, but you are the most suspicious woman,' he said, reaching for the remaining piece of her biscuit and popping it into his mouth. 'I admit, I'll do what has to be done to keep you here, Blair, but I'm not going to drug you.'

  'You're only going to use restraints? Well, what a relief that is, Hunter. Remind me to thank you some time.'

  'Now, now. There's no point in being sarcastic. Besides, the belt wasn't a restraint.' He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and took a sip of the dark liquid. 'Wasn't it.' The words were a statement, not a question, and he shrugged.

  'It was just an improvised security device, Blair.''You tied me up, Hunter. You .. .'

  'I tied us together. There's a difference.' 'Not that I can see.' .

  'Really? Then I'll tie you to the bed tonight, instead of to my wrist,' he said bluntly. His eyes met hers and he sighed. 'Look, Blair, the sooner you settle down, the easier this will be for the both of us.'

  'Settle down?'

  'Yes, exactly. I know this isn't any fun for you, but. . .' Blair snorted in disbelief. 'You certainly have a way with a phrase, Hunter. No, this isn't "fun"! Being frightened never is-not for most people, anyway. Maybe for someone like you .. .'

  'There's nothing to be frightened of,' he said softly. Her laughter was harsh and swift. 'Isn't there?' Hunter shook his head. 'No, not now. Getting here safely was the difficult part, but we seem to have managed that all right.'

  'You mean-we're going to stay here?'

  He nodded. 'Yes. I'm sure no one's followed us. And anyone who tries to get to us now will have a rough time of it.'

  'What do you mean?' Panic sounded in the rush of words. 'You said we were still in Italy-in Tuscany .. .'

  'Yes,' he said, adding coffee to his cup, 'that's right.

  We're in the hills north of Florence. But we're in a remote location, the kind of place nobody stumbles across. And we're on the top of a hill, far from a main road, with one hell of a clear view of the valley below .. .'

  Blair trembled with a sudden chill. If she'd had any faint spark of hope left, Hunter's self-confident speech had just snuffed it out.

  'What you're saying is that there's no chance they'll find us,' she said finally. 'Is that it?'

  Hunter nodded. 'I can promise you that, Blair.'

  She let out her breath in a long sigh. She thought of how easily, how professionally, he'd taken her twenty-four hours ago, how cleanly he'd evaded whatever pursuit the Desmonds and the Italian police must have mounted, and she knew it was useless to doubt his word. Whatever else he was, she was certain he was not a man who made idle promises.

  'I see,' she said softly, setting down her coffee mug.

  'Then-then, that's it.'

  'For the time being, yes.’ And ... and we're alone?'

  He looked into her eyes and a half-smile curved across his lips. 'And we're alone. You asked me that last night, too. Don't you remember?'

  'Did I?'

  The smile flickered across his face again. 'What's the matter, Blair? Is the thought of a few days in my company unbearable?'

  Her chin rose. 'And our sleeping arrangements?'

  'What about them?'

  'What do you mean, what about them? We can't... we can't keep sharing the bed.'

  Hunter's gaze was even. 'Come on, Blair. You're not going to tell me you've never shared your bed with a man before, are you?'

  'That's none of your business, Mr Hunter,' she said coolly.

  His smile faded and he got to his feet. 'You're right,' he said coldly, 'it's not. You're my business, pure and simple.'

  'Business,' she repeated softly, watching him as he cleared the table. 'Is that what you call the way you earn your living?'

  'What do you call the way your father earns his?' he demanded, tossing the empty tins into a paper sack. 'Are you trying to make some kind of comparison between yourself and my ... and an honest businessman? For God's sake, Hunter .. .'

  'For God's sake, Blair,' he mimicked angrily, 'let's not make it sound as if your father is a philanthropist, OK? I do what I do, and Oscar Desmond does what he does, and that's it.' He glared at her angrily as he stuffed the loose biscuits back into the container. 'Just do me a favour and don't sound so noble.'

  'I wasn't trying to sound anything, Mr Hunter. I was just .. .' Blair broke off in mid-sentence. The things he'd just said about Oscar Desmond's business empire kept tumbling through her mind. 'Are you saying-do you mean that all this has something to do with the labour problems at the Desmond mills?'

  Hunter shrugged his shoulders. 'Maybe.''Maybe? Don't you know?'

  'How would I? I just follow orders.' His voice faded as he walked into the bedroom. He came out again, slipping his shirt over his head. 'Yeah, maybe that's what triggered this kidnapping. It makes as much sense as anything, I guess.'

&nbs
p; Blair shook her head. 'What kind of man are you, Hunter? Don't you need to know the reasons before - don't you believe in anything?'

  Hunter spun towards her. She gasped as his hands shot out and grasped her shoulders. 'Who the hell do you think you are?' he snarled, hauling her to her feet. 'I wasn't trying to ... I didn't mean to .. .' Blair's voice was breathless.

  'I believe in my name, my word, and my honour.'

  'I wasn't questioning your honour. I ...'

  'What the hell do you know about honour? Women like you ...'

  'Mr Hunter; I'm sorry. I swear, I .. .'

  'And now it's Mr Hunter again. How touching!' 'You said to call you ... it was your idea ... I ...'

  Her voice trembled and broke. Hunter's eyes, dark with menace, burned into hers and then, suddenly, his hands fell from her shoulders and he took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry,' he said carefully. 'I didn't mean to frighten you. It was uncalled for.'

  Dear God, she thought crazily, etiquette for every occasion! 'No, that's OK,' she said with equal care. 'It was ... it was my fault, actually. I ... I had no right to question your motives.'

  'My motives are simple, Miss Desmond,' he said flatly. 'Money's one. Skill's another.'

  'Skill? I don't understand.'

  His smile was bitter and fleeting. 'This is all I know,' he said. 'It's what I've always done. It's what I'm best at.'

  'But-surely there's something else?'

  His eyes darkened and narrowed with memory. 'Once, maybe. At least, I thought there might be, but ...' She held her breath as he reached towards her. His hand stroked her uncombed curls back from her face and then he turned away. 'We've got a lot to do, Blair.' His voice was suddenly impersonal as he flung open the cupboards. 'The tuna and biscuits were all I could find. So; if you don't want to go hungry, we'd best replenish our supplies.'

  'I don't understand.'

  'We're going to market,' he said cheerfully. 'Doesn't that sound like fun?'

  She could feel the blood pounding in her veins, and it took all her effort to keep her voice from showing the sudden surge of hope she felt.

  'To ... You mean we're going into Florence?'

  'Well, to a little town near Florence. We'll get some tinned foods, some fruits and vegetables, cheese, bread perhaps even some meat. How does that sound?'

  'It sounds ... it sounds fine.'

  'And then we'll make the call.'

  Her head sprang up. 'A telephone call?'

  Hunter's eyes met hers. 'That's what I said, Blair.' His voice was soft, almost caressing. 'I think it's about time we got in touch with your father, don't you?'

  He said nothing else until they were in the Lamborghini. 'I hope I can trust you to behave yourself, Blair,' he said quietly. 'I'd hate to have to do anything unpleasant.'

  'Does it make you feel good to threaten me, Hunter?' she demanded bitterly.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he stared at her, and then he turned away and switched on the ignition. 'We're a man and a woman on holiday,' he said, putting on a pair of dark aviator glasses. 'Remember that, and we won't have any problems.'

  She sat back stiffly as he pulled the car on to the rutted dirt track that led from the farmhouse. There was no choice but to do as he said, she thought, staring out at the softly rolling hills. He was quick and strong and, added to all that, he was armed. He'd given her her shoes after breakfast, and while she was putting them on she looked up and found him wiping a rag along a dull, black object which, she realized with a sudden start, was his gun. Her eyes had fixed on it.

  'Are you .. .' Her voice was thin, and she swallowed and began again. 'Are you expecting trouble?'

  He closed one eye and sighted along the barrel. 'I always expect trouble,' he said. He gave her a quick smile. 'There's nothing for you to worry about.'

  'But you'd use that if you had to?' she asked in a papery whisper.

  He nodded. 'If I had to,' he'd said, tucking the gun away at the small of his back. 'Let's hope that it doesn't come to that.'

  He was what he was, she thought now, stealing a glance at him: a man who liked music, who hadn't done the things he could have when she was helpless during the long night, who'd insisted she eat her fill of their meagre rations-but he was a criminal. A killer, for all she knew. Just because he had civilized tastes, just because he looked as if he'd be as much at home in Los Angeles as he was here in these isolated hills, didn't mean that ... Just because the sweetness of his mouth and the feel of his hands made her tremble, didn't mean that ...

  'What are you thinking?' he asked.

  Blair folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. 'Nothing,' she said.

  There was a tremor in her voice. Hunter glanced at her and then, to her amazement, he reached across the console and put his hand over hers.

  'It'll be all right, Blair,' he said softly.

  Her eyes sought his. 'Will it?' she asked in a whisper. He nodded. 'Yes. Before you know it, you'll be back in Rome, safe and sound, and all this will have all the substance of a dream.' He looked towards her and their eyes met. 'That's what you want, isn't it?'

  She said nothing. Inexplicably, her eyes filled with tears. Hunter cursed under his breath and jammed his foot down on the brake pedal. The brakes squealed and the Lamborghini came to a shuddering stop on the narrow track.

  The silence of the surrounding meadow seemed to wash over the car when he shut off the ignition. Somewhere nearby, a bird trilled a few notes into the sultry

  'Come here, dammit,' he said fiercely, and then she was in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck as his mouth took hers in a kiss that was at once sweeter yet more sensual than any she'd ever experienced. She felt the corner of the console bite into her hip as he lifted her towards him, but nothing was as important as the feel of his shoulders beneath her hands, the taste of his lips as they parted hers, the warmth of his body as she pressed against it. She moaned softly as his hand cupped her breast, as he pressed his palm to the length of her thigh. He was blazing with heat; she felt it through the layers of clothing that separated them, felt herself ignite beneath the caresses of his hands and his mouth. She was spinning in a vortex of emotions, out of control, wanting Hunter, wanting her captor to become her lover, wanting ...

  The annoyed bleating of a goat, followed by the sharp barks of a dog, broke them apart.

  'My God!' Blair whispered shakily, putting her hand to her mouth, touching the tender flesh that was already swelling with the passion of his kiss. 'Hunter ...''Come back here,' he growled, reaching for her again, but she shook her head.

  'No,' she gasped, pressing her hands against his chest, 'no, we can't ...'

  'We'll go somewhere more private,' he said, running his hand along her cheek. 'The farmhouse ...'

  She closed her eyes. 'No,' she said more strongly; leaning away from him. 'This is-it's wrong.'

  'It's right,' he murmured, reaching towards her. 'You know it is.'

  Blair shook her head. 'Don't,' she said sharply. 'Never touch me again, Hunter.' She took a deep breath. 'Do you understand? Never.'

  Coldness turned his eyes to ice, his mouth to a narrow, uncompromising line in his dark face ..

  His whisper made the hair rise on the nape of her neck. 'I understand, all right.' Suddenly, he reached across the narrow space that separated them, his hand curling around the back of her neck. She winced at the harsh pressure of his fingers. 'Never play with me, Blair,' he said, his voice a warning rasp in the quiet confines of the car, never. You'll get hurt.'

  He pulled away from her and turned the key, jamming his foot to the floor as the engine growled to life. Blair fell back against the seat as the car gathered momentum. She risked a quick glance at Hunter and then wished she hadn't. His profile might have been carved of granite. There was an aggressive thrust to his head and shoulders; even the spread of his fingers on the gearstick seemed dangerous.

  He was dangerous, she thought, staring blindly ahead as they sped through the golden morning. He was like a
jungle cat, a creature whose deceptive beauty cloaked its deadly intent. And she was his prey. And yet ... and yet, only a heartbeat ago, drowning in the flood of sweet fire he'd undammed within her, she'd gladly have died in his arms.

  Blair shuddered, despite the heat of the August sun.

  Was this how the tiger's victim felt in the last moment? Was there some dark, blinding passion that linked predator and prey? Dear God, she wondered, what was happening to her?

 

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