"I don't trust you," she cried out.
"Promise you won't run."
"Never. I..."
"Then you leave me no choice. God forgive me," he muttered. "I do not like this any better than you. I'm trying to save your life," he repeated.
Save my life for Morray, no doubt. Damn, but she was so close against him she could feel the heat of his flesh beneath the material of his black body suit. His body felt hot to the touch, the warmth of his breath caressing her cheeks. He held her with such purpose and so tightly, she could scarcely breathe much less run from him.
He knew she held no other weapon, she thought suddenly. He had pressed her so close to him he could surely feel every inch of her just as she felt every inch of him. The cloth of her shirt was lightweight and made a feeble barrier. Except for that time in the forest, she had never been held so intimately or so close by any man. Yet when she needed her agile mind to come to her rescue, the overpowering possessiveness and strength of this man robbed her of all thought.
"Pay attention. Your brother..." he began.
She had no intention of doing that or succumbing to his blatant lies. This had to be another trick of Sheridan's. Morray was too stupid to plant an enemy outside her window but not Sheridan. The black-cloaked figure had surely come with Sheridan and his men, stayed when they went off to the guest rooms, then made his way to the top of the tower.
She kicked him with all the strength she possessed.
Her grin was smug when he let out a muttered oath then growled with outrageous fury.
"Let me go, you--you animal. You are one of them."
And just above, only a few feet away, one man peered over the window ledge.
"Hell!" The dark-cloaked figure swore and somehow managed to move one-step lower. Descending with one arm wrapped around her waist and one hand on the rung was surely foolhardy. He wouldn't try it, surely he wouldn't. Tori held her breath and held herself still.
He knew what he was about, she thought suddenly. He knew his strength and stamina. In wretched horror, Victoria clung desperately to the cold iron rungs. Then as more and more men began to clamber to the open window, she regained her own strength and courage.
"Stop them!" some one cried out.
"That is easier said than done," the cloaked stranger taunted. She believed him, Tori decided, watching him systematically fire his gun. Her own weapon now on the grass below, she wished she had not been so foolhardy.
Without looking at the ground, Tori eased down the ladder. Even as she saw each man fall away from the window, disappearing into the room, she paused, closing her eyes then resting her forehead against the cold iron. She heard a muffled explosion and saw noxious yellow smoke spew out the window.
Instantly, he was beside her, almost occupying the same space, pushing her against the ladder. Could he be against them, or was this a game?
Could he so boldly kill? Perhaps he only sought to stun these men who were her enemies. It made no sense.
Had he truly come to save her?
Could he be The Phantom, the man who already rescued her once today? The man whose battle cry had sent shivers down her spine? Could this be the man who eliminated Morray's men?
He must have surely looked for the box.
He would know everything.
She would never make it to the mountains if she could not find courage and the energy to leave the cloaked figure.
Her fingers were horribly numb.
"Go, Tori," his voice suddenly gentle, and it disarmed her. The hem of her pants caught on something and she jerked trying to loosen it. Step after step she made her way downward.
He was beside her now, climbing down the side of the ladder, matching her speed. "Careful now, there's a rung missing." Strangely enough, his calm, quiet voice so close gave her courage.
Then she looked up. She stared at her rescuer then on to the window where smoke still billowed out, then back to that man, suddenly realizing he was far more dangerous than any foe Sheridan or Morray could send against her. This man she could not defeat.
"Son of a bitch, babe, go. We don't have time to stop. There are more where they came from. I've only created a short diversion."
"A diversion," she echoed. Her teeth were chattering. No sound came from the window above but she knew he spoke the truth. They had only a few precious seconds before there would be more men at the window. Panic froze her as thoroughly as an arctic winter, and she fought against it.
She stepped lower at last. "Trust--I think not. But move I will."
She saw the flash of a smile lighted by the moon glow above. "Thank God," he said. "Now move!"
"I am. I am!"
"About time."
She heard the yelling. The fumes from the smoke bomb were wearing off. The men would be there again, would follow...
Her foot slipped and she looked down, freezing instantly.
He came closer to her--so close. Again, she felt the heat from his body, the strength of his will and determination.
"Morray sent them. Are you so anxious to become his bride then?" he whispered.
"I'm not a fool."
"What then?"
"I cannot move."
"Then you don't mind him touching you--possessing you? Or perhaps you'd like it," he finished scornfully.
"Morray is a pig," she assured him.
"What then?"
She still could not move.
"Coward," he charged her.
"Oh, yes, I..."
Again flashing against the moonlight, she thought she saw a teasing smile.
"Maybe..." she whispered.
"Prove it," he stated flatly.
Then she closed her eyes, trembling beneath his scorn. She was suddenly wishing for her impetuous courage from her childhood. Prove it. Lord, how she wished she could. A shout from above shattered her musing and her fear. They were so high.
She moved slowly at first, but after successfully traveling downward without a slip, she was reassured.
Prove it...yes...this was child's play. Tori continued, never looking down, torn between her irrational fear and the loathsome Quentin Morray. "Now only a little bit farther," he warned.
Please let it be true.
When she looked down, a shrill scream caught in her throat as a rung pulled loose from the wall.
She was dangling by one hand at least one hundred feet above the ground
"Take my hand, Victoria."
She looked at him. The sincerity she saw in his eyes stunned her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist but she clung to the broken iron rung with a desperate need, afraid to let go.
"Victoria, trust me. Let go of the rung so I can pull you up."
She froze again. The distance to the ground was simply so far that for horrifying seconds she didn't think he could save her.
She had known from the first time she looked out of her bedroom window to the ground below there was no hope; that her death lay down there.
A terrible stinging cold encircled her even as the force of his words slowly began to penetrate her mind, bringing her slowly back to the present. Trust me. Cold, so cold, it was a stifling blanket of fear that crushed her will until she could think no more, setting chilling fingers of death upon her. What horrible demons worked their black magic tonight? Yet even as she felt her fingers slipping, he managed to grip her more tightly. Something other than the cold broke through her thoughts. Reaching out, she slowly let go of the rung then wrapped her fingers around his wrist and felt the life-giving warmth of his body. With one arm, he pulled her to eye level. Then in a graceful move, masculine in its entirety, he maneuvered her so she could ride piggyback.
A soft cry of fear, of relief, she wasn't sure, formed in her throat, but stopped there. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung desperately to him, his muscles rippling and straining as he descended the rest of the way.
And the earth came steadily closer. Despite the weight of her, despite the precarious position and the decay
ing rungs, because more than one of them gave way as they inched lower, he did proceed, and he did make progress. Victoria became aware that with the approach of dawn, the night was growing steadily lighter, and in less than an hour, the sun would break over the eastern horizon.
Had she really been such a coward? When his feet touched the ground, she gasped as he let her slide to the earth. She felt her knees buckle. He still held her close to his side, steadying her. Perhaps, she thought, protecting her.
"Down there! They've made it. Now shoot." someone cried from above them. "I see them! There!
"Shoot to stun. Morray wants her alive."
"After what she did to me, I'd see her dead."
"Shoot--now! Before they reach the forest!" came the last cry.
Her knees trembled, yet she could not force herself to move, to walk, or least of all to run.
"Run!" he commanded, and she was suddenly yanked forward, stumbling, barely able to move her limbs which were still frozen with terror. Her teeth were chattering and her legs were refusing to obey the commands she sent them.
"Are you crazy, babe? They mean to kill us."
"And what do you have in store for me?" she lashed back at last, but she was moving now, although awkwardly.
"Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed. "You decide to argue with me now when they are shooting at us from above."
"Argue?" she asked surprised. She was freezing, she thought, forced to grope around in the dark. The horrid night had without a doubt become the worst in her life, and he was accusing her of arguing with him. She had no idea who he was or why he'd rescued her this night. She could not begin to understand what evil purpose he might have in mind for her.
He let out the sharp expletive. "So you want to call a conference on this spot and debate the merits of running or staying. I'll carry you."
He was trying to pull her close against his body. She let out a sharp oath herself, wrenching free from him. "I can do it by myself! Take your hands off me, and I will keep pace."
But the dark stranger didn't let go. Holding her hand firmly in his, he pulled her along then finally after she stumbled one too many times, he swept her into his arms and ran at a blinding speed.
It was, she told herself, better to do this on her own two feet but he'd left her no choice. The cold was still with her. She could scarcely feel her fingers. But even as she tried to understand what was happening to her, she felt a spark of warmth and life returning to the core of her body, like a promise of something in the future, a premonition.
Her temper, too, threatened to override her common sense. A temper not slacked by the fact that this phantom of the night kept her tightly in his arms, allowing her no freedom, even as the shouts continued all around them and she was sure someone must surely follow.
She would not allow this, she swore furiously to herself. She would not give this pretender a chance to play knight in shining armor again, because she had no clue as to his intentions, no idea whether he was friend of foe.
But even as the vow came to her heart, a shriek left her lips, because they'd reached the edge of the forest and he'd set her on the ground. Men wanted to kidnap or kill her, she reminded herself fiercely. They wanted to hand her over to Quentin Morray, and this stranger could probably never realize how she loathed that fate.
Yet she stumbled, grasping the rough bark of an ageless Redwood tree, not quite managing to make herself run, then realizing she was staring at him.
"Hurry!"
"I'm doing the best I can."
She was, but her efforts were not anywhere near what he needed from her, apparently. He was pulling her up, away from her solid place against the tree, and despite her best resolve, he was going to sweep her off her feet once more.
"It's not good enough." He stepped closer, arms outstretched.
"No!"
She forced herself to move, slowly at first, but she gained momentum. A smile lit her face, and she turned back to the silent, masked black figure.
"You're going the wrong way."
His words were enunciated slowly, and so very quietly, but she heard the anger, the frustration, and all the unleashed power of him.
The cold night air hit her with resounding force. Tears stung her eyes and the back of her throat; her clothing molded damply to her, adding to her chill. She wanted to escape the man, but without his help, she could not think of a way to save herself. He held out his hand to her and waited.
"Come here."
His voice was suddenly gentle, and he spoke to her as if he was taming a wild animal, gentle and coaxing. "Take my hand. It's not very far."
Her will was no longer her own and as if enchanted by the calm soothing words, she reached out her hand to him, trusting him. Their fingers touched then their hands were joined. She felt the warmth enfold her once more and felt the surge of energy sweep through her.
"Run with me, little wild thing. Fly with me now to safety."
"Don't let me down," she said softly. Together they ran, making their way through the brambles of the forest. They were moving so swiftly, her hair and the night breeze had become as one, and she was aware only that she was following this man, following of her own free will, and she had no idea where they were going. Some magic about him compelled her to do so.
Yet once again she was stumbling, falling behind, her breaths coming now in short, labored gasps.
"I have to rest," she cried out. How could this man continue at such a pace?
"We can't!"
She was suddenly standing nose to chest with her would-be rescuer. He stood above her, breathing deeply, shrouded by the darkness of the forest and the night.
"I can go no farther..." she began. But she was swiftly cautioned, as his black-gloved hand appeared before her in a warning gesture.
"Hush. We are not yet out of danger. We must go on."
"One minute--to catch my..."
Suddenly Tori broke away from him, turning wildly toward the tower and her laboratory. She had lost all sense of direction.
Now she could hear their pursuers in the distance. "Don't let them get away," someone screamed. "Find her, else Morray will vent his anger on us! And The Phantom--kill him. He has stepped in the way of our plans one too many times."
Her eyes widened.
The Phantom--he was truly not one of them.
Relief swept through her, her heart slowing, and she wasn't sure if it was the short rest or the knowledge that he was not going to hurt her. She looked one more time toward the tower then started to move through the forest, but before she could do so on her own, he had swept her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
"I can make it on my..." she began in a soft huff, trying to push up against his back.
"Victoria…" he began politely enough. Then he continued, "Be quiet!" He spoke like a soldier leading a battalion. Then one of his long strides sent his shoulder jutting into her stomach and she gasped for air. She had no other choice.
Rambling berry branches and thorny vines tore at her hair and her clothes as he hurried quickly along the meager trail. She balanced precariously, clinging to him now with a quiet desperation, all her energy bent on keeping her balance as he ran. It came as no surprise to her when he stopped and removed camouflage debris from a vehicle. She struggled on his shoulder, turning just in time to see a silver flash on a sleek black land glider.
She slid down the front of him, the fabric of her shirt hissing against his body suit. She quickly stepped free, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. He didn't notice. In truth, his attention was now concentrated on the glider.
His hand roamed the smooth fuselage, reverently dusting the dirt and needles from its surface. Tori felt a shiver sweep along her spine. What would a woman feel, she wondered, if this dark and dangerous man were to touch her so tenderly?
"Get in, Victoria; we still have a long ways to go tonight." Again, his voice commanded, demanding complete obedience, a compliance she refused to give this mysterious stranger. Tori te
nsed, seething inwardly at his sudden underhanded tone. Had he truly rescued her? On the other hand, had she escaped the hands of her enemies only to find herself with another?
"No, I think--well, I think I'll go this way." He was not one of Sheridan's or Morray's men. She knew that now, but she still had no reason to trust him. And where did he intend to take her?
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