The men had decided to wait until after dark before slipping into the house to kidnap Jason Savage. When Micajah refused to let Savanna accompany them and, after an ugly tussle, proceeded to shackle her again to a small oak tree, all her fears and mistrust rushed back.
Glancing down at her from atop his horse, Micajah said bluntly, "I don't trust you and I wouldn't put it past you to queer the deal, so you'll just stay here while Jeremy and I go get Jason Savage. You just wait here quiet-like."
Like a caged tigress, Savanna raged at the length of her chain, cursing Micajah in two languages, as he and Jeremy disappeared into the darkness. More furious than frightened, she waited with growing impatience, every second seeming like an hour, her thoughts on Jason Savage and the unpleasant surprise in store for him.
Safely in New Orleans with his wife and family, Jason Savage was in no danger from Micajah and Jeremy. Unfortunately, the two intruders didn't know that, and so when they slipped into the elegant house at Terre du Coeur and discovered a tall, black-haired man drinking brandy in the library, they made the assumption that they had found Jason Savage.
Adam had enjoyed the time since Jason had left and was quite at home at Terre du Coeur—there was no reason for him to expect danger. Having already dismissed the servants and having decided to partake of one last brandy before seeking his bed this particular night, he was just lifting the snifter to his lips when his well-honed senses alerted him to menace. He was in the act of spinning around when Micajah viciously clubbed him. Sparks exploded in Adam's head and he knew nothing.
Savanna didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when Micajah and Jeremy returned with the limp body of a man thrown across the front of Micajah's saddle. But there was no time to waste—it was imperative that they leave the area before the kidnapping was discovered. If luck was with them, it would be morning before the master's presence was missed, but they were taking no chances.
To Savanna's relief, Micajah immediately released her, and seconds later they were careening through the moonlit darkness. The moon was waxing full and since the swamps had been left behind some days ago, the terrain was fairly level, though heavily forested, but they were able to make good time. Hours later, when Micajah decided to call a halt, Savanna could only sink tiredly to the ground, thankful that she could rest at last. Deliberately she did not look at the still body of Jason Savage, his hands and feet now firmly bound, as Micajah threw him on the ground.
Worn out from the events of the past several days, Savanna fell asleep the instant her head hit the ground, and for the first time since she had been captured, she slept deeply. It was the furtive touch of a hand on her breast that woke her hours later and she reacted instinctively, moving like lightning, her teeth sinking deeply into the flesh of the exploring hand.
Micajah hollered in pain and jerked away as Savanna leaped to her feet in one smooth, dangerous movement. Her red-gold curls bristling around her lovely face, her aquamarine eyes gleaming fiercely and her fists bunched, she stared at Micajah. "You swore," she enunciated with cold precision, "that you wouldn't touch me."
Nursing his wounded hand, from a safe distance Micajah sent her a sickly smile. "It was an accident. I was just trying to wake you and my hand, er, slipped."
"If you don't want to be permanently maimed, I would suggest that your hand doesn't slip again!" she snapped icily.
Micajah shrugged and turned back to the small fire that Jeremy had lit. Certain the threat of danger was over for now, she spun away and stalked over to the narrow, clear stream that bordered the area where they had camped, and bathed her face and neck with the cool water. Feeling refreshed, she straightened and halfheartedly tried to bring some order to the tangled curls that fell to her waist.
Later, sipping coffee from the tin cup handed to her by Jeremy, she stared over at the sprawled lump on the ground that was Jason Savage. "He's not awake yet?" she asked no one in particular.
"Micajah hit him pretty hard," Jeremy replied uneasily, glancing nervously at the man.
"He ain't dead," Micajah said defensively. "You can see his chest moving up and down. He'll wake up soon enough."
"Well, since we can't hang around here waiting for Mister Savage to wake up, I suggest we do something to help speed up his waking process," Savanna remarked. Grabbing an empty pot, she filled it with water from the stream.
As she approached the prone body of Jason Savage, she reminded herself that this was the monster who had murdered her father. Hadn't even her mother admitted that Davalos had stated that Savage had sworn to kill him? She glanced down at him, noticing that he was considerably younger than she had expected and astonishingly handsome in spite of the ugly bruise that darkened his temple. Angry that she was even aware of his black, curly hair and the hard beauty of his face, she kicked him ungently in the ribs. When he stirred and groaned, she dumped the pot of water into his face.
Shocked into wakefulness, Adam surged into a sitting position and became aware of several unpleasant things at once. His head ached abominably, his hands and feet were tightly bound and someone had just thrown cold water in his face. Ignoring the various pains that racked his body, he apprised himself of his situation and surroundings. He did not recognize any landmarks, nor had he ever seen the two surly-looking men by the fire. Memory came flooding back, and he concluded that he had been attacked last night and for some reason kidnapped.
Suddenly aware of a third person nearby, he glanced up and looked at the most stunning woman he had ever seen in his life. Unaccountably, his heart leaped as he stared at her tall, magnificent body, the humble brown gown detracting little from the lush curves it covered. Red-gold curls framed the face of an avenging angel and, his gaze mesmerized by the dazzling clarity of her incredible aquamarine eyes, Adam stared in astonishment. The blatant dislike in the depths of her eyes and the unfriendly expression on her face gradually dawned on him, and because he was at a loss to understand anything that had happened, he said carefully, "I don't know what the hell this is all about, but I think that there is some mistake."
With an effort, Savanna tore her fascinated gaze away from the brilliance of his blue eyes and ignored a curious curl of excitement deep in her belly. Furious that she was reacting to him at all, she snarled, "There is no mistake. You're the son of a bitch who murdered my father and now you're going to pay for it, Mr. Jason Savage."
Chapter 6
A denial sprang to Adam's lips, but even as he opened his mouth, it occurred to him that telling these people that he wasn't Jason Savage wouldn't solve his problems. From the unsavory looks of the two by the fire, more than likely he'd get his throat slit for his pains and then they would immediately go in search of the real Jason Savage. By speaking the truth, he would not only put his life in greater jeopardy, but endanger Jason....
Eyes narrowed, Adam stared at the flame-haired Amazon before him, wondering with one part of his brain what her position was in the scheme of things. She honestly believed that Jason had killed her father, and knowing much of Jason's early wild days, Adam was aware that it was entirely possible that Jason had killed her father. To his knowledge, though, his brother hadn't killed anyone in many years, not even in a duel; so was this kidnapping motivated by desire for a belated revenge, or was there some other factor involved? And how did the two men by the fire fit into the situation? Had she hired those two ruffians to kidnap Jason for her?
Through his lashes, his eyes roamed speculatively over her. He stared at her trying to figure out her motives, but as the seconds passed, a carnal gleam entered into those dark blue eyes, and his gaze traveled with appreciation from her full, passionate mouth to the lush, firm breasts straining against the cheap material of her gown. Torn between amusement and anger at his unruly flesh, Adam felt his body respond to the captivating sensuality revealed in every provocative curve of her magnificent form.
In growing rage, Savanna watched him assess each feminine feature of her body, and her hands tightened into fists.
"I would think," she ground out from between clenched teeth, "that it would be to your benefit to defend yourself rather than strip me with your eyes."
Adam was not a bit abashed to have been caught staring and his mouth curved into a lopsided grin. "Well, since you seem to have already convicted me of the heinous crime of killing your father," he replied, "I didn't see the point of my trying to convince you otherwise!" A heavy black eyebrow arched inquiringly. "Did your father have a name?"
Baffled by his disregard of his dangerous position, Savanna stared at him, wishing savagely that the man who had killed Davalos had been old and ugly instead of young and outrageously handsome. She'd never seen anyone like him before; she'd never felt this treacherous excitement, this sudden thundering in her blood, and the fact that the man lying at her feet was the cause of it terrified her as much as it enraged her.
Despite the rigors he had been through, despite the fact that he had been kidnapped by murderous rogues, the shameless creature lay there exuding an air of indifference and an utter disregard for what might be his fate. The buckskin breeches clung to the long, hard length of his muscled thighs and did nothing to disguise the fact that he was aroused. He was uncaring that she knew his state, and Savanna's hand itched to slap that handsome face of his. The fine white cotton shirt fit his broad shoulders admirably, the voluminous sleeves covering his powerful arms were caught in a narrow band at his wrists and a sprinkle of dark hair showed at the open V of the collar. A lock of blue-black hair fell carelessly across his forehead and the expression in the sapphire eyes made Savanna's pulse behave erratically. He was, she concluded, far too sure of himself. Arrogant bastard.
Oblivious of the two by the fire, Savanna glared at him and snapped, "Have you killed so many men that you can't recall all of them?"
Adam shrugged. "I've never killed a man who bore even the faintest resemblance to you, sweetheart."
Savanna ground her teeth audibly at his glib reply, and, unable to prevent herself, she kicked him in the ribs. "Well, perhaps the name Davalos will jog your memory, you murdering bastard," she snarled.
The kick hurt, but it was the mention of Davalos's name that caused Adam to stiffen and a wary light to leap in his eyes. He was exceedingly familiar with Davalos, and just thinking of the grief the man had brought upon his family a cold rage flashed through his body. Oh yes, Adam knew Bias Davalos—he had met the Spaniard in Natchez when Catherine had been living at Belle Vista, before Jason had spirited her away to Terre du Coeur; had known Davalos before the man had kidnapped his sister, raped her and been the cause of her losing the baby she had carried at the time.... From Jason and Blood Drinker, he had learned even more of the details of Davalos's life, including those of his grisly death at Blood Drinker's hands. If Adam had any regrets, it was that he had been denied the pleasure of killing Davalos with his bare hands.
But that this glorious creature in front of him could be the daughter of Bias Davalos was impossible to credit. Davalos had been slim and dark, his Spanish origins obvious, but Adam could not see any sign of Davalos in the furious young woman before him—neither her height, nor the incredible mane of red-gold curls that framed her lovely face, nor the striking aquamarine eyes could have come from Bias Davalos.
"Well, Miss Davalos, you sure as hell don't look like your daddy," he commented coolly.
Savanna's heart sank at Adam's revealing reaction to her father's name. It hadn't been until then that she admitted that she had been hoping that he'd never heard of Bias Davalos. But his actions and words condemned him, and her jaw hardened.
"The name is O'Rourke, and whether I look like Davalos or not doesn't change anything," she snapped, controlling the urge to kick him again. "He was my father and you killed him and now you're going to pay for it."
Behind his cool blue gaze, Adam's keen brain was working frantically, and he didn't like the thoughts that were occurring to him. His position was dangerous enough, but the notion that there was more to this than simple revenge could not be ignored. As he turned the situation over in his mind, he was aware of the certainty growing within him that he wasn't going to like the real reason for his abduction at all.
The hard planes of his face unrevealing, Adam asked, "And precisely how do you intend to go about doing that? If murder was on your mind, you'd have killed me last night, but you didn't. Why not?"
"Because," said the big, burly man who loomed up behind the woman, "you're more interesting to us alive at the moment. We can always kill you, but first you're going to tell us about the golden armband and the Aztec treasure you killed Savanna's father for."
Not by so much as a blink of an eyelash did Adam reveal that he had ever heard of any golden armband or Aztec treasure. He was, however, very familiar with the golden armband—he'd seen it often enough on Jason's arm. He was equally familiar with the story of the Aztec treasure that Jason, Blood Drinker and Jason's friend and mentor, Philip Nolan, had blundered across on one of their horse-trading expeditions with the Comanches. What did surprise him was that someone else knew about it.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said flatly, his eyes clashing with the man's pale blue ones.
The big man grinned and pulled out a knife, lovingly caressing the blade. "Oh, I think you do, and I think that by the time I get done with you, you'll sing your guts out for me."
"Micajah!" Savanna said sharply. "Not now! You said we had to cross the Sabine River before we would be safe from pursuit. Shouldn't we be on our way?"
For a tense second, Adam thought that the man called Micajah might defy her, but he finally nodded his unkempt head and muttered, "Mebbe you're right. A few days won't make any difference." He sent Adam a malicious grin. "And he sure as hell ain't going anywhere but with us."
Adam's situation hadn't improved, but the fact that Micajah intended to keep him alive until they had crossed the Sabine River gave him a respite. By his calculations, they were over three days of hard riding from the river, and who knew what could transpire between now and then.
Speculatively his gaze traveled over Savanna O'Rourke, as he tried to grapple with the news that she was the daughter of Bias Davalos. She called herself O'Rourke, not, Davalos. A most unpleasant notion occurred to him, and he was annoyed at precisely how unpleasant he found it—surely she wasn't married to that hulking bastard Micajah? His mouth twisted. It wasn't any of his business, Adam reminded himself grimly, even if she was married to Micajah. Getting out of this predicament alive was the only thing that mattered, and so far, he decided sourly, he had only two advantages: it appeared that he was safe until they reached the Sabine, and Savanna hadn't seemed eager for Micajah to start carving him up. But he acknowledged that looking to Savanna for help didn't seem promising; her actions made it clear she detested him and thought him the lowest sort of vermin. But I have time, he told himself, and I might as well make the most of it.
When the other two turned away and walked over to the fire, Adam tested his bonds, discovering without any surprise that they were effectively secure. Having found that avenue blocked, he glanced around, sizing up his three captors with an eye to finding their weak spots.
Savanna had a temper, that he'd already discovered and his bruised ribs gave testament to it; Micajah had a cruel streak and enjoyed inflicting pain on others, if his obvious pleasure at the prospect of using the knife was any indication. He also was a bully, Adam observed thoughtfully, watching Micajah impatiently cuff the head of the small man by the fire. As for the object of Micajah's displeasure, it was too early for Adam to draw any conclusions about him and his gaze wandered on, only to be drawn back sharply to the trio by the fire as it became obvious that there was an altercation brewing.
Savanna's fists were clenched by her sides and it was apparent that she was holding onto her temper with an effort. "I am not," she ground out, "riding on the same horse with you!"
"Well, Jesus Christ! How the hell do you expect us to ride?" Micajah snarled. "In case you've forgotten, ther
e's only three horses, and now there's four of us."
"And whose fault is that?" she asked sweetly, not backing down. The thought of being in such proximity to Micajah Yates as riding on the same horse with him made her sick—she'd actually have to touch him, put her arms around him, and she'd walk barefoot over burning lava before she'd submit to that!
Micajah eyed her with mingled desire and dislike. He'd been too easy on her so far, he decided. Let her get too uppity, let her think that she still had a choice. It was time that Savanna O'Rourke learned her place.
He drew his fist back to strike her, but Savanna, reading his intent, was already in motion. "I think not!" she said fiercely and, dropping to the ground, snatched up one of the pieces of wood from the fire and, holding onto the cool end of it, shoved the flaming point at his face.
Micajah yelped and danced away from the fiery tip as Savanna advanced, poking her weapon forcefully in his face. "Don't even think about trying that sort of thing with me, you bastard!" she said with obvious relish as Micajah, all idea of brutalizing her gone, kept moving away from her. "And remember this," she muttered. "You may be stronger than me, you might be able to overpower me and beat me into submission for a while, but you have to sleep sometime, Micajah." She smiled nastily at him. "And some night when you're sound asleep, some night when you think you've got me broken"—if possible, her smile got nastier—"that's the night I'll cut out your liver and serve it up for breakfast."
To Adam, riveted by the scene unfolding in front of him, it was obvious that Micajah didn't doubt her words. His face pasty, the big man laughed nervously and mumbled, "Now, Savanna you know I'd never do anything to hurt you. You just got me riled, honey. Just made me lose my temper for a bit there, that's all."
Each Time We Love Page 9
