“It’s a fact, Bea. You’re beautiful.” Was he really such a beast that she hadn’t expected a compliment from him? “The heat, it’s stifling. I thought you’d enjoy the time to cool off.”
“Of course.” She hesitated only a moment, wringing her hands together as if in indecision, then without another word she spun around and broke through the brush toward the river.
“Be careful of animals,” he called out but she didn’t respond.
Colin watched her go, knowing he should take the time to secure their camp, yet unable to focus on anything but those long, dark strands that swayed above her backside. Or the way her trousers hugged her ass. Or the way that damn shirt was taut over her …
He took in a deep, trembling breath and tore his attention from Bea, ignoring the heat that shot straight to his groin.
“Focus, you damn idiot.”
He started to gather pieces of wood in order to make a fire. As many enemies as they had, the elements would be their worst. So many things to worry about yet he mostly worried about Bea. How much longer could she last? Still, she’d proven herself to be much stronger than he could have ever imagined. He admired her, he realized. Admired her strength, her caring nature, her passion for those she believed in. Would she be as passionate in bed?
His gaze traveled to the scraggly brush where Bea had disappeared into the shadows of the trees. As if a sailor drawn to a siren, he moved. He couldn’t take it anymore, being away from her, not touching her. Slowly, he traveled toward the sound of gurgling water, pulled by the exotic force that was Bea.
He admired the way her lips quivered when she wasn’t sure how to respond to some ridiculous statement he’d made. He pushed aside a branch, allowing the moon to light his steps.
He admired the way, when the light hit her eyes just right, they glowed like melted gold.
A soft hmm reached his ears, a sweet song from the lips of a seductive nymph.
Hell, he even admired the way her voice was soft and husky in the morning. He lifted a branch and ducked underneath.
Spotting Bea kneeling at the water’s edge, her profile to him, Colin froze. She’d tied her hair atop her head, leaving her long, slender neck exposed to the kiss of the silver moonlight. Her shirt hung open, the tails wavering in the soft breeze, revealing her flat stomach, yet unfortunately still covering those soft breasts. She stood and tipped her cupped hands.
Colin’s body flared to life. Lightning shot through his veins. He was a damn pervert, standing there watching her, yet he couldn’t seem to move.
Water snaked down her skin, disappearing under the collar of her shirt. She turned toward him, her eyes closed. Colin sucked in a breath. The buttons undone, her shirt lay open, showing the valley between her lovely breasts. Her pale skin was painted silver under the light of the moon; she was like an ethereal statue come to life. A Greek goddess. Dear God, he couldn’t take much more. His fingers curled at his sides and he knew, he knew he had to have her.
Bea’s lashes lifted and her piercing eyes met his. He expected her to gasp, to scream, to curse him to hell. She didn’t. This woman wasn’t Leo’s cousin or Ella’s friend. This wasn’t the cold Englishwoman he’d first met. This wasn’t Sarah come to crush his soul.
He started forward. Bea met him halfway. They paused when they were only a breath away. Colin reached out, hesitated, then cupped the back of her head, his fingers slipping into the silky strands.
There was an unspoken agreement that flickered between them. An unspoken acceptance in her eyes. Colin didn’t need any more. He tilted Bea’s head back and crushed his mouth to hers. He was gone. Perhaps it was the moonlight. Perhaps it was the fact that they’d just escaped a dire situation. Perhaps it was because of Bea. But the moment they touched, any sensibility fled, leaving him a tangle of pulsing desire.
Boldly, Bea’s tongue traced his lips. Heat shot straight to Colin’s groin. With a growl, he pulled her closer, hugging her lush curves to him. His hands slipped underneath the material of her shirt, his fingers spreading over her warm flesh.
He didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate to take what he wanted, what he’d been aching to have for days now. Colin slid his hands around her waist and cupped her bottom, bringing her up hard against his arousal. A shudder crept over her body; he could feel it in her muscles, in her soul. She wanted him just as much and the thought made him heady with desire. His lips found her neck, still damp with water.
“I was so afraid, Colin, so afraid you were dead,” she whimpered against his mouth. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
He nodded. He would have agreed to anything. But mostly, his mind centered on the fact that she cared. She cared about him. She cared if he lived or died. She cared.
His hands slid forward, up over her ribs, hesitating briefly at the underside of her breasts and prolonging the moment. How his fingers itched to touch her, to brand her. Finally, he gave in to temptation and cupped the soft mounds. They fit perfectly in his palms, slightly overflowing his grasp. Colin’s shaft pulsed against her lower belly. Too much, it was all too damn much for even him.
He moaned into her mouth, his tongue rubbing against her own, while his thumbs flicked over her hard nipples. Bea’s fingers bit into his shoulders, her body trembling from lust. He knew she wanted him; he could smell it on her, the desire, sweet and shocking. The realization thrilled his already overheated body. His lips moved to the column of her throat, needing to taste more of her, all of her.
“Colin, please, don’t stop.”
Sweet relief nearly made his knees buckle. Dear Lord, she’d kill him with her words. He spun her around, her back pressed to his chest, his hands resting against her warm, lower belly. Before she could object, he slid his tongue along her neck. Bea sighed, sinking into him.
“Damn, you smell good,” he mumbled against her skin.
Colin moved his hand lower over her flat belly, his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her upright. Bea’s stomach muscles quivered as he drew his finger along the band of her trousers.
“Colin?” she whispered, her voice unsure.
He didn’t respond, merely flipped open the button on her trousers and slipped his hand inside, cupping the soft curls at the junction of her thighs.
Bea sucked in a gasp, her back arching.
“Colin, what …”
He slid one finger between her slick folds.
“Oh my, yes,” Bea whispered, sinking into him once more.
She was wet, wet for him. The realization sent his pulse pounding. As his finger slid in and out of her folds, he brushed his mouth against her neck, reveling in the taste and feel of this woman. Bea’s breath came out in harsh pants. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back in ecstasy. He knew, even as his shaft pulsed hard against his trousers, he knew he needed to stop. Yet he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop breathing in her scent.
“Colin, oh, Colin.” She tilted her head, so her lips pressed to his jaw.
Her fingers wrapped tightly around his arms, her nails piercing his forearms. Her body quivered and he knew she was close to finding her release. Her reaction was devastating to his already tormented soul. His erection begged for mercy, urging him to remove his fingers and find release with her. Colin resisted. The tiny part of him that clung to reality resisted. Bea would find her release, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ruin her completely.
He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. Yes, he’d make sure she found her release. His hand moved to that spot, that tiny bud. Bea cried out, her voice echoing through the trees. Her body pulsed, contracting in blissful waves that tightened around his finger.
Colin gritted his teeth, holding still as the silence settled around them. Sweat dotted his forehead. His shaft pulsed, hard and hot against her backside. How badly he wanted to push himself inside her tight warmth. To taste every inch of her body. To make slow, torturous love to her the entire night. It would be so e
asy, she was so incredibly ready for him …
Shit. What the hell was he thinking? This was Bea. Leo’s cousin. He dropped his hold and stumbled back.
Bea didn’t turn to look at him, merely stood there, her shoulders rising and falling with each harsh breath.
“I suppose I should apologize,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
At his words, her shoulders stiffened.
“But I won’t.”
She spun around to face him. Her eyes wide, her lush lips parted in surprise.
Colin stepped up close to her, his chest pressing to her breasts. He slid an arm around her waist, holding her tight against him, then pressed his lips lightly to hers. She remained stiff in his arms. Did she already regret what had happened? Or did she fear what he would do next?
“I can’t say I’m sorry,” he whispered against her mouth, “because I’d do it all over again.”
He released his hold and turned, leaving her.
Thirty minutes. At least thirty bloody minutes Bea had remained rooted in place in that scrub brush near the creek, unable to move. How could she look the man in the eyes after what she’d let him do? How he’d touched her, what he’d said … And she’d liked it, damn her soul to hell. More than liked it. His touch had been purely … amazing.
Her heart skipped a beat, her body warming just at the memory. Through the brush, she could see him relaxing near the fire. She knew he couldn’t spot her beyond the light, but still, his gaze was pinned to her, as if he could. The scent of cooking meat made her stomach clench, momentarily replacing her anxiety with the need for nourishment.
“Blast it,” she said, taking a hesitant step forward. She stumbled, her legs long ago having grown numb with lack of movement. Colin most likely would find her embarrassment amusing. Bea, the arrogant English virgin. Still, she had to confront him sooner or later. Might as well get it over with and hope for a decent meal.
The smell of smoke stung her nostrils right before the path widened and she found herself within the campsite. Bea hesitated. His attention had fallen to the fire, as he stoked the flames. Light flickered over the hard planes of his face, drawing deep shadows beneath his cheekbones and dark fans from lashes much too thick for any decent man. Even now she could picture him peering through those lashes, that half smile that made her heart flutter. Yes, the man was much too ruggedly handsome for his own good.
“There’s food, if you’re hungry,” he said, not bothering to look up.
How should one respond after being intimate with a man one barely knew? Perhaps she should pretend it hadn’t happened, even if her body still thrummed from his touch. He didn’t need to know.
She cleared her throat and started forward. “Will a fire not draw their attention?”
He shrugged. “I refuse to eat raw meat. Besides, there are, no doubt, a multitude of fires throughout the countryside. We’ll hope they find ours last.”
He flashed her a dimpled grin, his teeth gleaming white in the darkness. He was acting as if it hadn’t happened. He was acting as if he hadn’t touched her most intimate of spots. Perhaps he wasn’t acting. Perhaps he wasn’t embarrassed at all. Was it such a normal action for him? Had he not thought she was some whore the first night they’d met? Perhaps he frequented whores so often that taking a woman in the middle of a scrub jungle was an everyday occurrence.
The thought spurred her forward, her footsteps loud with anger.
He lifted his plate and began to eat, not bothering to wait for her. Back home she would have found his lack of manners insulting. She had more important things to worry about now. Like … hell, like Colin and the way he made her feel. Those brilliant blue eyes flickered to her, as if he could read her mind.
Color shot to Bea’s cheeks. A warm tendril of heat swirled within her gut. She looked away, fearful he’d read the attraction she felt, the way she wanted to touch him, to lean into him just to breathe in his musky scent. Across the fire, she settled on a log, the warm flames the only barrier between them. She tried to focus on those flames, but found her attention rising, just above the dancing fire, to stare at him.
He met and held her gaze, but she could read nothing in his features, nothing of his thoughts or desires. Did he want her the way she wanted him? Frantic for something to occupy her thoughts, she lifted a stick and poked at the flames. Sparks rose into the night air, drifting across the brush. Sparks that reminded her of the heat he’d produced deep within. She’d never known … had no idea it could be this way between a man and a woman. No wonder her grandmother never left her alone with a man.
“They’d have fires at night back home,” she said, wanting to fill the silence but her voice sounding high-pitched and odd. Did he notice?
“In Scotland?”
She nodded, feeling he should know something about her after being so intimate. “The villagers, they’d huddle around the flames, gossiping, laughing. I’d watch from the window of my chamber.”
“Did you never join them?” He was watching her with a mild curiosity.
She hesitated only a moment, unsure if she wanted to relive her lonely childhood. “Once. And was told quitet horoughly that I was not to befriend the help.” She forced herself to laugh and dared to look up at him then. He wasn’t smiling. Her laughter faded and she dropped the stick and wrapped her arms around her. “It’s gotten rather cold.”
Colin lifted a metal pan from the fire and stood. Bea stiffened, watching him make his way toward her, her heart pounding with every step closer.
“Move over.” His voice was gruff and demanding.
She scooted immediately, part of her cursing him for tormenting her with his nearness, and the other part thrilled to be so close. He settled next to her, sitting on the tails of her shirt, which she hadn’t bothered to tuck in after her short bathing experience. She frowned and pulled on the shirt until she was free.
“Here, eat.” He shoved a metal dish into her hands. The pan was warm, as if he’d been keeping the food hot for her. It was a generous gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. On the plate were small chunks of gray meat, lying in puddles of grease. Not exactly appetizing, yet that didn’t matter.
As there were no forks, she lifted a chunk with her fingers. Her stomach growled. She stuffed the meat between her lips. The flavor was soft and mild. She swallowed and took another piece, her stomach clenching, begging for more.
“You’ll need to keep up your strength.”
She nodded her agreement, and stuffed another piece into her mouth. “This is quite good. Why type of bird is it? Tastes rather like chicken.”
Before Colin could answer, she’d managed to fill her mouth yet again. Ridiculous, she knew, but dear Lord, she was hungry. She looked around for a napkin, realized there was none, and swiped her greasy hands on her trousers.
“It’s not a bird,” Colin answered.
She glanced at him, curious now, and stuffed another piece into her mouth. There was something in his eyes, something that set her on edge. She swallowed the lump of meat. “Then what is it?”
He leaned closer, the sparkle of amusement in his eyes making her nervous. “Snake.”
Her fingers unclenched and the dish clattered to the ground. “What?”
He scooped up the plate with a frown. “Snake. No reason to waste it.” He took a bite and grinned, showing those blasted dimples.
Bea’s stomach rumbled, bile rising in her throat. “Please tell me you jest.”
“Nope.” He stuffed another piece between his lips.
“Oh dear Lord.” She pressed one hand to her stomach and another to her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”
His head jerked toward her. “Don’t you dare. Took me forever to skin the damn thing.”
The visual those words produced was not pleasant. “Oh God.” She jumped to her feet.
“Bea.” Colin’s voice was so sharp, she actually paused. “Sit down.” He stood, glaring at her.
She wanted to refuse. She wanted to run to
those bushes and vomit up her meal. Instead, she slowly lowered herself onto the log, forcing her small dinner to remain firmly in her gut.
“You will keep that damn food in your stomach, understand?”
She barely had the energy to nod.
He pointed at her like a father reprimanding his child. “We need our strength. You need your strength. I will not drag your unconscious, weak body across India.”
She knew she should be offended, yet couldn’t get over the fact that she’d eaten … oh dear Lord … she’d eaten snake! She gagged. Her stomach clenched. She gagged again.
“You sound like a cat with a hairball.” He flipped open a bag and pulled out an oblong, yellowish fruit. With the small machete lying at his feet, he whacked the melon in two. It fell apart with a thud, revealing a pale yellow flesh.
“Here.” He shoved half into her hands.
The skin was smooth, the scent crisp and sweet. “What is it?” she asked warily.
“Fruit. Mango. You’ll like it. Focus on that, not”—he waved the machete through the air—”what you ate before.”
She swallowed hard and forced images of snake from her mind. Slowly, she lifted the fruit to her mouth. Her tongue darted out and touched the fruit hesitantly. It was sweet. She dug her teeth into the flesh. Juice trickled down her throat.
“Mmm,” she muttered. “Tastes rather like honey.”
Colin grinned. “Figured you’d like it.”
She took another healthy bite, the greasy snake meat forgotten. “Delicious.” She closed her eyes, allowing the sweet taste to invade her senses. This, she could appreciate. This, she could enjoy. The warm night, the brilliant stars twinkling above, the sweet fruit, this she could admire about India. And she could almost forget what she’d allowed Colin to do to her body … almost.
The silence finally invaded her heavenly dream. Slowly, she lifted her lashes. The campsite was quiet, still. She turned her head ever so slightly and met Colin’s gaze. There was a hardness in his eyes. They’d gone from the soft blue of a summer sky to the brittleness of snow on a moonlit night. She swallowed hard, her heart racing, knowing what he thought about. It was there, written on his face. His desire for her.