Beware of the Stranger

by Janet Dailey

  For long seconds there was no sound, only the patch of light shining into the room to indicate that he had not left. Finally, when she was a quivering mass of nerves, the door closed. Her legs threatened to collapse with relief, but she didn’t move from her hiding place, not for another ten minutes.

  With extreme caution, she crawled through the triangular opening in the screen. Every accidental sound she made, no matter how tiny, sent a chill down her spine. Quickly she crossed the narrow clearing into the trees, her nerves leaping at the whisper of leaves against her jeans. She paused there, her breathing shallow as she got her bearings and rechecked to be certain there was no movement from the house. All was silent. No alarm had been raised yet.

  She started out slowly toward the path to the boathouse. If her luck held, she wouldn’t run into Tom. She crept along through the thick stand of trees, her progress guided more by the sense of feel than sight.

  The moon was bright overhead, but its light couldn’t penetrate the umbrella of leaves.

  Danger seemed to lurk in every shadow. The winging of a night bird could send her pulse rocketing. Samantha stumbled onto the path, unaware she was so close until she stepped onto it. She halted, instantly scanning the tunnellike path in both directions. There was no sign of Tom.

  Deciding that she could move faster if she stayed on the path, she clung to the shadowed side, moving quickly and quietly toward the boathouse. Twice her overactive imagination made her think someone was following her. Both times she stopped, listening, trying to distinguish any man-made sounds in the night’s stirrings. Neither time could she hear anything to cause alarm.

  The white glow of moonlight glassed the smooth surface of the cove. A smile of elation curved her mouth at the sight of her goal, but she wiped it away with the sobering reminder that she still had not reached the dinghy. Tom could be there. Using the trunk of a tree as a shield, she studied the boathouse, dock and surrounding rocky land for a sign of him. There was nothing that even resembled his burly shape.

  With the aid of the moonlight, Samantha scampered quickly over the last remaining stretch of rocky path, hurrying to the concealing shadows of the boathouse. Leaning against the door, she cast one last glance around before opening the door and slipping inside.

  The cavernous blackness enveloped her. She couldn’t even see her hand, let alone the dinghy. There was no choice. She would have to turn on the light and risk it being seen. She felt along the wall until she found the light switch and turned it on. The brilliance of the solitary bulb blinded her. For several seconds, she could see only the glaring spots in front of her eyes.

  Finally they adjusted to the light. The sleek sailboat dominated the interior of the boathouse, its mast towering toward the roof. But it wasn’t the sailboat she was seeking. Then her gaze found the small dinghy, dwarfed by its larger companion.

  Success was within her grasp and she started toward it. It was tied near a ladder. Her foot was on the first rung when the door opened. Paralyzed, Samantha stared at Jonas. He returned her horror-stricken look lazily.

  “You’ll never make it,” his low voice said.

  Frustration set in. To be stopped when she had come so close was unbearable. Knowing it was foolish and without a hope of succeeding, Samantha started down the ladder. She didn’t have a foot in the dinghy when her arm was caught and held by Jonas. She strained with all her weight against his grip, tipping her head back to gaze at him pleadingly.

  “Let me go, Jonas,” she begged shamelessly. “Please. The others don’t have to know you could have stopped me. Please, just let me go!”

  His answer was to smile at her grimly and increase the pull on her arm to draw her up the ladder. “It’s no use, Sam. Come on.”

  A second longer she resisted before admitting defeat and let him help her up the ladder. Standing once more on the wood floor, she shoved her hands in her pockets and lowered her chin, seal brown hair falling silkily across her cheeks. Jonas made no attempt to usher her from the boathouse.

  “It isn’t the end of the world, Sam.” There was an undertone of amusement in his low-pitched voice.

  “Isn’t it?” Samantha flashed in bitter defiance, the husky quality in her voice deepening.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Her lips compressed into a tight line. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I followed you.”

  “You followed me?” Samantha repeated incredulously. True, she had had the sensation a couple of times that someone was behind her, but she had been positive it was her imagination. Her gaze slid to his moccasined feet. “I thought I heard someone, but …”

  “I’ve done a lot of hunting in my time,” Jonas replied as if an explanation was really necessary.

  “You couldn’t have known I was gone,” she protested.

  “Couldn’t I?” he mocked, an eyebrow quirking into his dark hair.

  “You came to my room —” she began.

  “ — and saw the lumpy shape beneath the covers and knew it couldn’t possibly be yours.” He finished the sentence his own way, glinting charcoal eyes raking her slenderly curved figure with an easy familiarity that warmed her cheeks.

  Samantha tried to disguise her reaction with another quick question. “Then why didn’t you come to investigate?”

  “If I had, I would have found you hiding behind the drapes.” The carved lines at the corners of his mouth deepened.

  “How did you know I was there?” she breathed in astonishment.

  “The breeze was blowing one drape, but the other was amazingly motionless.” Then he added with a knowing gleam. “As if someone was holding it still.”

  “If you knew I was there, why didn’t you just stop me then?” Samantha demanded angrily. “Why did you let me get all this way? Do you enjoy tormenting me?”

  Her bitterly accusing tone wiped the vague traces of amusement from his rough features. “I had to know where you were going and what means you were planning to use to leave the island,” Jonas replied.

  “I could have just been going for a walk,” she pointed out airily.

  “But you weren’t, were you?” he countered. “You were going to try to row across the river in that dinghy, weren’t you?”

  “So what if I was?” she challenged with a toss of her head.

  “Do you realize how small that is?” he asked with a hint of impatience.

  “What difference does that make? The river is calm. There aren’t any waves that could swamp the boat,” she declared, the faint haughtiness still in her tone.

  “But there are lake freighters in the ship channel. That little dinghy would be nearly impossible for them to spot, especially without, running navigation lights. One of those ships could have run you down without even knowing it,” Jonas responded grimly.

  “That doesn’t frighten me.” Denying the shiver that raced over her flesh, she added, “I’d rather risk that than stay here.” Her gaze was downcast, but she heard the angry breath he expelled. For a minute, she thought he was going to take her by the shoulders and try to shake some sense in her, but he didn’t.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Jonas finally ground out with leashed violence.

  Samantha acknowledged the warning signal and changed the subject, her gaze sliding to the dinghy. “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

  “About you? Nothing. Take you back to the house and put you to bed.” He made it sound as if she were a runaway child.

  “I meant about the boat,” she clarified her question stiffly. “Are you going to chop a hole in it and sink it?” She was suggesting the extreme out of spite for his superior attitude.

  “Nothing that drastic,” Jonas answered dryly. “But now that I know what you were planning, there’ll be a padlock on the boathouse and probably one on the dinghy, too. Combination locks,” he qualified, “so there won’t be any keys for you to steal.”

  “And you’ll probably be the only one who knows the combination, I suppose
.” The upward sweep of her lashes revealed the mutinous glitter in her eyes.

  “More than likely,” he agreed smoothly, a faint glimmer of laughter in the dark silver gaze. “What are you going to do now? Slip into my bedroom some night to see if I talk in my sleep?”

  “I doubt that you even sleep,” Samantha retorted, irritated by the small tremor that quaked through her at the idea of being alone in a bedroom with him.

  “Not very soundly,” Jonas admitted, then tilted his head to one side. “What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I’m not going to sneak into your bedroom!” she declared vehemently, mostly because it was such a heady thought that she had trouble forgetting it.

  “I was referring to any more harebrained schemes you might have running through that mind of yours about leaving the island.”

  “I’m going to keep trying, if that’s what you’re asking,” Samantha flashed.

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  Chapter Eight

  THERE WAS an impatient sigh. “Sam, I …” Jonas seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. “You have to stay here.”

  “Do you expect me to just accept that?” she demanded in disbelief. “Am I supposed to stay here willingly until you say I can leave? If you say I can leave?”

  “You’ll be safe here,” he said firmly.

  “Safe!” His incredible statement prompted movement. She stepped past him. “How can you say that? How can you expect me to believe that?” Her hands waved the air to punctuate her questions. “How am I safe when I’m being kept on this island against my will? When you and Tom are walking around carrying guns? Maybe even Maggie has one strapped to her thigh, I don’t know!” She was so intent on her declarations that she missed the narrowing of his gray eyes. “You expect too much!”

  “No one is going to hurt you,” Jonas stated quietly.

  “Is that right?” Samantha inquired with a disbelieving nod of her head. “Can you speak for the others?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “You’ll simply have to forgive me for not believing you. I’ve listened to too many of your lies,” she declared.

  “You have no reason to be afraid.”

  “So you say.” Her mouth twisted with mocking skepticism.

  “Samantha, you have to trust me.” Jonas didn’t try to conceal his impatience.

  “Trust you?” The throaty laugh she gave bordered on hysteria, her taut nerves snapping after hours of strain. “How can I trust you? I don’t even know who you are!”

  This time he did grip her shoulders and give her a hard shake that snapped back her head. “Stop it,” he commanded tersely. “You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing.”

  “Nothing!” The frenzied note in her laughing voice earned her another shake that rattled her teeth and effectively silenced her.

  “You’re letting the situation seem worse than it is,” he barked.

  “Am I?” Samantha whispered brokenly, gazing into his compelling face. “I wish you could convince me of that.”

  His head moved to the side in frustration as he breathed in deeply to control his rising temper. There was an enigmatic hardness in the dark smoke of his gaze when he turned it back to her face. He studied the confused and troubled light in her eye, a glimmer of apprehension in their brownness that he hadn’t been able to abolish. The line of his mouth thinned as he gathered her stiff body in his arms.

  “Trust me, Sam,” Jonas muttered against her hair. “I swear I won’t let anyone harm you.”

  “I can’t trust you,” she protested, swallowing back a sob of longing and pushing her hands against the granite wall of his chest.

  He held her easily, overcoming her half-hearted struggles as she rigidly resisted his embrace and its offer of comfort. The fine silk of her dark hair was caught in the shadowy stubble on his cheek. The rough caress was unnerving.

  “And I can’t let you leave the island,” he responded thickly.

  “I won’t stay,” Samantha declared into the smooth material of his windbreaker. “I’ll swim if I have to!”

  “And probably drown,” Jonas concluded sharply. “You’re a good swimmer, but both of us know you aren’t that good. And I can’t believe you’d prefer killing yourself to staying here with me.”

  She could have told him that under any other circumstances she would have gladly stayed on any island with him. But she simply couldn’t forget the fact she was being held prisoner.

  “I won’t stay,” she repeated, straining against the iron circle that held her fast.

  “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. You’ll have to trust me, darling.” The endearment was spoken very casually as if he had called her that hundreds of times.

  But it was the catalytic agent that combined with the firm contact of his muscled length and her undeniable attraction to him that banished her resistance to his embrace. Samantha relaxed against him, letting her curves mold themselves to the hard contours of his body. She felt the moistness of his mouth moving in rough kisses against her hair.

  “Jonas,” she sighed, then caught it back. “That isn’t your real name, is it?”

  “No,” he admitted indifferently. “But it doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes it does,” Samantha protested, because it meant that he didn’t trust her. Yet he expected her to trust him when she didn’t even know who he was.

  His large hands moved up to cup the sides of her neck below her ears, fingers twining into her hair as he tipped her head back to meet the smoldering fire of his gray eyes.

  “Nothing matters except this.” His mouth brushed over her eyelid, her lashes fluttering against his lips. “And this.” He shifted to her cheek and the tiny hollow where her dimple formed. “And this,” he murmured against the corner of her lips.

  And he kissed her until she was convinced. The masterful pressure of his mouth blocked out all her fears. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck to cling to him, breathing erratically when he began exploring the sensitive cord along her neck.

  “I want to trust you,” she whispered achingly.

  Jonas lifted his head to gaze into her hungry eyes. “Then trust me,” he stated quietly. “You won’t be sorry, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  There was a barely perceptible movement of her head in acceptance of his words. His mouth closed possessively over hers, burning his ownership into her heart. Samantha knew he was wrong. Something had already happened to her. She had fallen in love with him — her stranger, her kidnapper — and there wasn’t any way she could reverse the course of her emotions.

  His hands slid down her spine to mold her hips against him, the muscular column of his legs scorching her flesh on contact. She melted in his crushing embrace, glorying in the golden tide of surrender sweeping through her, uncaring for the hard thrust of gun metal biting into her shoulder and chest.

  The growth of beard scraped at her cheek as he searched out each sensitive area along the curve of her neck and the pulsing hollow of her throat. But the rasp of his beard was exquisite pain, heightening her nerve ends to their full peak of awareness. His large hands moved over every inch of her ribs, waist and hips, arching her more fully against him while they continued to explore the pliant curves of her body.

  The musky scent of his maleness filled her senses, sending them spinning with delight. Samantha was no match for his passionate onslaught, so she started a backfire of her own. As she sought the devastating pressure of his mouth, liquid wildfire raced through her veins.

  After torturous seconds, he let her lips find his mouth, his kiss hardening as they opened beneath his touch. Locked in each other’s arms, they both felt the yearnings for satisfaction in the other.

  Finally it was Jonas who ended it, breaking away to bury his face in the silky thickness of her hair above her ear. Her trembling fingers continued a tentative exploration of his strong jawline. The pounding of his heart kept pace with the rapid tempo of hers, his breathing
disturbed and ragged.

  “I’ve tried so hard to keep from loving you,” Samantha whispered with a frustrated longing for satisfaction.

  “You have?” his muffled voice mocked her gently. “What do you think it’s been like for me? Every time you’re near me, I want to make love to you.”

  She drew her head away, needing to see his face. “Do you really mean that?” she asked breathlessly.

  He smiled, a wondrous smile that softened the firm line of his mouth and made beautiful, crinkling lines at the corners of his gray eyes. His gaze traveled warmly over her upturned face, taking in the soft glow of her eyes and the parted invitation of her lips.

  “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, you’ll find out just how much I mean that,” he told her with lazy humor.

  Samantha laughed huskily and rested her head against his chest. A sweet pleasure beyond description filled her heart with joy. She closed her eyes to imprint this moment in her mind, wanting to cherish it forever. Right now, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t said he loved her. He wanted her, with the same fierce ache with which she wanted him.

  “Let’s go away, Jonas,” he murmured. “Let’s get in the sailboat and sail away.”

  There was a sudden tenseness in the arms that held her. Every muscle seemed to become suddenly alert. With deliberate slowness, his hands moved up to grip her shoulders and move her a few inches from him. The smoke screen was back to conceal his thoughts when she lifted her head to gaze at him. She could only guess what was making him wary and she tried to dispel his caution.

  “No one ever has to know that you were keeping me on the island,” she told him earnestly. “Please, let’s go away, the two of us together.”

  Her hand lifted to caress the powerful line of his cheek. He caught if before it could reach its objective, crushing her fingers in his hand until she gasped at the pain.

  “You’re hurting me!” she protested sharply in bewilderment.