by Janet Dailey
A muscle leaped in his jaw and a glimpse of turbulent thunderclouds briefly penetrated the smoke screen of his eyes. He released her hand abruptly and turned away. “We are not leaving this island, Sam,” he stated coldly.
Her mouth opened, but for a time nothing could come out. How could he continue to hold her prisoner if he really cared for her as he claimed? Did he care for her? Or did just being with an attractive young woman fill him with lust? Or worse, had he … ? The paralyzing hold on her throat eased.
“It was all just a trick, wasn’t it?” Samantha squeezed the accusing words through the painful knot in her throat. “You were playing games again, just the way you’ve been doing from the beginning.”
“It wasn’t a game,” Jonas answered tautly.
“I don’t believe you!” she flashed. “You were just using another tactic to persuade me to stay willingly on this island! It would have made it so much easier if you didn’t have to guard me every second, wouldn’t it? Well, your scheme didn’t work!” She resorted to anger to hold back the scalding tears that burned the backs of her eyes and to keep the sobs of pain lodged in her throat.
“Neither did yours,” he snarled.
“Mine?” Samantha breathed in hurt confusion. She couldn’t have made it more obvious that she had fallen in love with him.
“Save that innocent look in your brown eyes for someone else.” His lip curled in a jeer, his gaze raking her length contemptuously. “I don’t buy it. There isn’t anything you wouldn’t resort to in order to get off this island — you proved that very conclusively a few minutes ago. Did you really think you had me so securely wrapped around your finger that all you had to do was pull the string and I’d take you away? Accusing me of using you is like the pot calling the kettle black.”
Samantha gasped softly. He believed she had only been pretending to be in love with him so that he would take her away. Her first instinct was to deny it, but pride insisted that she not completely humble herself when he didn’t care for her.
“Desperate situations breed desperate solutions,” she mouthed the words that would support his accusation.
“It was hardly an original one,” Jonas mocked harshly.
“I’ll try to do better in the future,” she retorted.
“You may not have a chance. I hope not,” he muttered beneath his breath as if thinking aloud, then reached for her arm, saying more clearly, “Come on. You’re going back to the house.”
“What do you mean I may not have another chance?” Samantha demanded, unable to elude the grip of his hand. She was dragged along beside him toward the door. “Are you going to lock me in my room? Or … ” She couldn’t voice the other thought.
“I don’t think I could trust you alone even behind a locked door. If I lock you in, I’ll be in there with you.” The ominous glitter of his gaze was turned on her, rife with intimate suggestion. “It might even prove to be entertaining.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she breathed in alarm, pulling back against his grip to lag behind him.
Jonas paused at the door, an eyebrow lifting in arrogant amusement. “Wouldn’t I?” he mocked, and she paled.
The door burst open and Tom’s burly figure was silhoutted against the night. “She’s slipped away again,” he burst out. Jonas’s tall frame blocked her from view. “Maggie looked in a few minutes ago and found pillows stuffed under the covers to mike it look like she was still in bed. The window screen was pried loose. There’s no way of telling how long she’s been gone.”
“You can stop looking,” Jonas said curtly, pulling Samantha forward. “I’ve found her.”
Tom swore beneath his breath in relief. “I thought we’d lost her for sure.”
“I’m taking her back to the house now. Get a lock for the dinghy and the boathouse door,” Jonas ordered. “Then you’d better see what you can do to patch that screen.”
“Right away,” Tom nodded.
Samantha was pushed through the door’s opening as Tom stepped out of the way. It was a long walk to the house, a walk that was made even longer by the grim silence of her captor. Maggie was waiting in the dining room. She shook her head in relief at the sight of Samantha, but Jonas didn’t make any explanation as he marched Samantha through the house to her bedroom and shoved her inside.
She stumbled into the room, regained her balance near the rumpled bed, then turned to face him, frightened yet boldly defiant. He stood at the door, a hand resting on the doorknob.
“The screen isn’t repaired yet, but I wouldn’t try to slip away again,” he warned. “I’d find you before you could get off the island.”
“Go to hell, whatever-your-name-is!” A rush of bravado strangled her voice.
“Thanks to your father, I probably will,” he agreed sardonically and shut the door.
Samantha stood uncertainly where she was, wanting to fly in the face of his warning and sneak through the opening of the screen. But she was convinced he would find her and the consequences might be more disastrous the next time.
A tear spilled down her cheek, then a second. She moved blindly to the bed, stretching out on the covers and burying her head in a pillow. She had no idea how long she lay there in a numbed stupor of pain, her cheeks wet with the slow trickle of tears.
From outside, someone started pounding a hammer where her screen window was. Tom, she guessed. It was only after the pounding stopped and his footsteps carried him away from her bedroom that the tears increased their flow. For the first time since her childhood years, Samantha cried herself to sleep, silently, muffling her sobs in the pillow.
Her head throbbed dully as the sunlight probed at her eyelids. She pulled the covers more tightly over her shoulders and tried to cling to the forgetfulness of sleep. An awareness crept in, aroused first by the bareness of her skin. She didn’t remember undressing and frowned as she realized that she was clad in her undergarments and not her pajamas. She stirred slightly and felt a weight on one corner of the bed.
The painful memories of last night began to surface. She felt raw and bruised mentally as she struggled into consciousness. The back of her neck prickled with the sensation that someone was watching her. The uncomfortable feeling wouldn’t go away, and she turned her face from the pillow to glance over her shoulder.
The last dregs of sleep fled at the sight of Jonas slouched in a chair, his long legs propped on the edge of the bed. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, his hands folded together on the flat of his stomach. Behind the lazily lowered lashes, his gray eyes were watching her, taking in her stunned shock and the trepidation that immediately replaced it.
Samantha quickly pulled the covers up to her throat, remembering his threat to lock himself in the room with her and hotly conscious of her scanty attire beneath the blankets. She had trouble breathing naturally.
“How long have you been them?” Her demand was weakly voiced.
“All night,” he answered blandly.
“It wasn’t necessary,” she protested stiffly.
“I thought it was.”
“I didn’t try to get away.”
“No, and you won’t get the chance to try anymore,” he stated, uncoiling from the chair and subtly stretching his cramped muscles.
“What do you mean?” Samantha eyed him cautiously. Had he decided to keep her locked in the room?
“I mean —” he paused for effect “ — that someone is going to be with you at all times. The only place you’ll be alone is in the bathroom, and I suggest you go there now and get dressed so I can turn you over to Maggie and get myself some sleep.”
From the glint in his eye, Samantha could tell that he expected her to insist he look the other way while she made her dash to the bathroom. Instead, she pulled the covers from the foot of the bed and wrapped them securely around her as she swung her feet to the floor. Shuffling across the floor in the confining mummy wrap, she took fresh clothes from the closet and dresser drawer, then retreated to the bathroom.
&nb
sp; Before the day was over, Samantha learned that Jonas had meant exactly what he said. She was never alone, shadowed constantly by one of them.
During the morning and early afternoon, it was Maggie and Tom because Jonas was sleeping. Maggie was quietly friendly in the time Samantha was forced to spend with her, but it was Tom who seemed the most sympathetic to her plight, his gaze faintly apologetic.
Jonas had monopolized her time so much in the past days that this had been her first opportunity to get to know the others. Yet both Maggie and Tom remained slightly aloof from her. She knew it would be useless to try to enlist their aid in escaping. They were as determined as Jonas that she remain on the island.
At eleven that evening, Jonas announced it was time she went to bed. Samantha wanted to protest, but she knew it was a command he would see obeyed even if he had to use physical force to accomplish it. She couldn’t conceal her mistrust of his presence when he followed her into the bedroom.
She hesitated inside, unwilling to change into the revealing shorty pajamas and reluctant to incite a situation she couldn’t handle. Besides, how could she even get into bed with him watching her? Her position was so vulnerable, especially because she loved him in spite of everything.
“You might as well change into your night clothes.” He accurately guessed the reason for her hesitation. “Otherwise Maggie will have to come in and undress you the same as she did last night.” At Samantha’s sudden pivot in his direction, he drew his head back in a considering manner, a wicked, knowing glint in his eyes. “You thought I took your clothes off last night, didn’t you?” he chuckled.
Her cheeks crimsoned as she hurriedly looked away. “I had no way of knowing who did.”
“Well, you can breathe easier — it wasn’t me,” he turned with a vague burst of impatience. “So hurry up and get into bed.”
Self-consciously, Samantha gathered the yellow shorty pajamas in hand and darted into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later to see Jonas standing at the window. Before she could slide beneath the covers he turned and saw her.
The pajamas covered more than her bathing suit did, but there was something so decidedly intimate about wearing pajamas in front of a man. She made a project of tucking the covers around her, studiously avoiding the frowning look of concentration being directed at her. Her pulse raced when he moved away from the window. But all he did was switch off the overhead light to throw the room into darkness; then he walked back to the window.
For a long time she was afraid to move. Her muscles became cramped from the restricted position. The covers were drawn so tightly around her that she began to suffocate. Finally, she had to move. She turned, trying to find a more comfortable position, but without much success. The repeated shiftings drew an impatient response.
“I hope you aren’t going to sleep as restlessly as you did last night,” he said. “I’m not in the mood to keep covering you up all night long.”
Just when she had begun to lose some of her embarrassment over the fact that it hadn’t been Jonas who had undressed her, it returned with a fury of warmth.
“Thanks a lot,” she muttered bitterly. “That’s just the kind of comment I needed to induce a restful sleep!” Since it would result in the exact opposite.
“Go to sleep, Sam,” he muttered back in a savage undertone.
“I’m trying, but it’s not easy with you standing there,” she retorted.
“Would you rather I crawled in bed with you?” Jonas snapped.
“No!” The denial was quick and more than a little frightened as her body was first cold, then hot at the thought.
“Forget I asked,” he sighed. A task easier said than done. “Good night, Sam. And don’t worry, I won’t disturb you.”
Had it been her imagination or had there been a slight emphasis on his last word —“you”? Samantha couldn’t tell, but she thought it was wise not to ask.
Neither spoke again, although it was well into the morning hours before she finally slept. When she wakened near midday, she found Maggie was in the room with her. The woman explained that Jonas had left for his own room shortly after dawn to get some sleep.
The day’s pattern started out as a duplicate of the previous day. The change came in the middle of the afternoon when Jonas appeared to relieve Tom. He and Samantha had been playing a game of gin rummy, but when Jonas sat in his chair, Samantha stood up. His presence dominated the room, making it too confining.
“Can we go outside?” she asked nervously, feeling the disturbance caused by his overpowering masculinity.
“For a while,” he agreed, rising to move toward the patio doors, sliding them open, and permitting Samantha to lead the way.
She moved restlessly around the patio, unable to appreciate the view of the gently flowing St. Lawrence River and its cluster of islands. Jonas leaned against a rock, letting her prowl while keeping her in sight. She felt there was an invisible leash stretching from her to him and she wanted to break free of it.
Her steps turned unconsciously toward the path to the boathouse. She hesitated a few yards along the worn trail and glanced over her shoulder. Jonas had moved away from the boulder and was ambling after her, but not attempting to catch up. Evidently he wasn’t going to forbid her to go to the cove. Maybe he wanted her to see that the boathouse was padlocked.
Samantha turned her back to the path and continued her aimless meandering pace toward the cove. There wasn’t any particular reason to go there. She was only going because there wasn’t any particular reason not to go.
On a rocky knoll above the cove, the trees gave way to grass and stone. She paused there, her gaze sweeping the clumps of tree-crowned islands against the backdrop of a milk blue sky. A few elongated puffy clouds were drifting overhead.
As Samantha started down from the knoll, she noticed a motor cruiser growing steadily larger in the distance, but her only interest in it was identifying something that was moving in the quiet afternoon. There wasn’t any thought that it could offer her aid. Jonas would see to that.
Strolling down to the water’s edge, she gazed at the raft anchored in the cove, but there were too many painful memories attached to it. She dug a toe into the pebbles at her feet, the tips of her fingers tucked in the hip pockets of her slacks. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Jonas was nearby; she could feel his gaze on her. The invisible leash hadn’t been broken, only the tension had been slackened.
Lifting her head, she stared out across the water again. The large cruiser was coming nearer. It would pass very close to the island, but Samantha didn’t take her hands from her pockets to wave at it. To attract the boat’s attention would also attract Jonas’s, and she would gain nothing in the end except his displeasure and possibly a confinement to the house.
Instead of the cruiser steering a course around the island, she realized with a start that it was heading toward the cove. As it neared the entrance, the powerful engines were throttled down. Her heart leaped at the sight, but her feet were rooted to the spot. At any moment she expected Jonas to come charging down to drag her away before she was recognized.
The cruiser was in the cove now and there was still no sound from Jonas. Biting her lip, Samantha glanced over her shoulder. Jonas was standing in the break of the trees, slightly in their shadow, watching the boat purring toward the dock. His gaze slipped to her.
At this distance, his expression was inscrutable.
Is this another of his tricks, Samantha wondered with bitter pain. The boat must belong to one of his colleagues. Why else was he letting it come in? Maybe he enjoyed tormenting her. Blinking away a brief welling of tears, she looked back to the cruiser.
The engines were stopped and a dark-suited man was making the boat fast to the dock. When it was secure, two more figures emerged from the cabin. Samantha stared at one of them, not believing her eyes.
He was a few inches taller than she was, his physique just beginning to show a losing battle against weight, dark brown hair salt
ed liberally with gray. When he turned toward land and she saw his handsome square face and clear, discerning brown eyes, she knew she wasn’t mistaken.
Joy rose at the sigh of Reuben Gentry, her father, only to be checked by the realization of what this meant. She was being rescued, which meant that Jonas would be caught. Her gaze swung to the path’s knoll and Jonas. The trees were still concealing him from the view of the boat’s party. Their eyes met, hers begging him to run, to get away while he had the chance.
“Sam!” Reuben was calling to her, a strong voice, vital and powerful like the man.
Samantha ripped her gaze from Jonas, forcing a smile, only half-glad to see her father. She freed her feet from their roots and made them carry her toward her father, slowly gaining speed until she was nearly running into his opened arms. Tears blinded her vision as she stopped before him.
“Reuben,” she murmured in a choked whisper.
He tipped his head to one side, his hands settling on her shoulders. “Are you all right, Sam?”
The comforting touch of his hands slid her arms around his waist, muffling her silent sobs in the expensive material of his jacket.
“Yes, I’m all right,” she managed to say huskily, but she wasn’t. Her arms tightened around him. Very, very softly, she cried, “Daddy!”
He held her for a few more seconds, then began to gently untwine her arms from around his middle. His brown eyes were warm with deep affection as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“I haven’t had a welcome like that since you were six years old,” he teased. Samantha tried to laugh, but it was brittle and harsh. Reuben looked beyond her in the direction of the trail. “Where are the others?”
She glanced at the two dark-suited men, standing quietly, stern-faced, on each side of her father. She saw the bulge of their jackets and paled. Quickly she looked over her shoulder. There was no sign of Jonas. It was wrong to hope he had escaped.
“At …” She didn’t want to tell, but she had to. “At the house, I think. There’s a path through those trees.”
The two men started forward, and Samantha moved to one side as her father started to follow. He stopped and looked at her, an understanding light in his brown eyes.
