Oh, Lord, she hoped so. Tonight, for the first time in her life, she'd experienced doubts on that score. During that moment in Jared's arms she'd wanted to flow into him, become a part of him, share that cherished privacy that she'd never relinquished to anyone.
Why had she yielded to the impulse to confide in him, when she'd never discussed that part of her past with anyone, not even Marguerite? If anything signaled how dangerous Jared was to her, that confessional monologue surely did. All he had done was hold her in his arms and listen with the powerful intensity inherent in him, and he'd seemed to draw her to him with magnetlike force.
She unzipped Jared's jacket and took it off, wanting nothing to remind her of that momentary weakness. She strode briskly toward the bathroom, tossing the jacket carelessly on the chair as she passed. It was a mistake she mustn't repeat. She couldn't risk losing even a particle of her individuality to Jared. Though he'd never shown any ruthlessness toward her, she knew it was there in spite of what he said. She'd learned to trust only herself, and she wasn't about to let herself be beguiled into entering a relationship that would endanger not only her emotional stability, but her very independence.
She opened the door of the bathroom, unbuttoning the mandarin collar of the yellow brocade tunic as she did so. No, she couldn't take that chance, she thought as she turned on the shower and quickly stripped off her clothes. And she certainly couldn't continue the sexual intrigue she'd indulged in with Jared these past two weeks. Now that she recognized how vulnerable she was, it would be the height of foolishness. The only sensible course would be to bring this episode to a swift summation.
Escape.
She stepped beneath the shower, letting the spray cascade over her in a soothing stream. It was the only answer to a dilemma that was becoming more serious than any she'd encountered. She must put an end to these playful attempts at escape she'd regarded as almost a game and concentrate all her efforts on her objective, to get away. She had an idea that she didn't have much time to accomplish the goal if she were to withstand the pull Jared was exerting on both her emotions and her senses. To give in on one front would be to lose on both, and she wasn't about to do so. No, it must be escape, and very soon.
Tania's decision was actively reinforced the next morning when she arrived at the gym for her usual five hours of practice at the barre. Edward Betz, dressed in a dark T-shirt and trunks, was slowly and methodically chinning himself on a bar on the far side of the room. She stopped abruptly, and the heavy door closed behind her with a dull thud. At the sound, Betz looked over his shoulder with the swift wariness of a startled animal. The wariness was replaced immediately by his usual impassivity as he dropped from the bar with surprising litheness. His physique, now that it wasn't concealed by the dark, conservative suit, was also a surprise. There wasn't an ounce of flab on his square, solid body. His short legs were corded with muscle, and his chest and shoulders were equally powerful. Only his plump face and brown, Basset-hound eyes reflected any hint of humanity, and that was nullified by their distant expression.
"Good morning, Miss Orlinov," he said. "I understood you didn't start your practice until seven. I hoped to be through here and out of your way before that time. I'll leave at once."
"I'm a little early," she answered tersely. "I had trouble sleeping." Her shock at seeing him was rapidly being superseded by anger. He was being so damned courteous—as if he hadn't arranged the kidnapping that had brought her here! The man was completely unbelievable. "But why should you let my presence bother you? I didn't notice that you had any hesitation about interfering in my life."
"You're still annoyed with me," he observed slowly. "I'd hoped you'd be resigned to the situation by this time." He leaned down to pick up a hand towel on the floor by the bar. "But from what my subordinates tell me, you haven't even tried to adjust." He patted his forehead with the towel. "You're a very difficult woman, Miss Orlinov."
"Difficult? Because I object to being kidnapped, drugged, and carried off to some chateau in the wilds by a man who has the morals of a procurer for a bawdy house?"
"It was necessary, Miss Orlinov," he said, wiping his neck. "I only do what's necessary. I did try to persuade you first, if you remember. The use of force is always regrettable."
"Yet you had no hesitation about using it," she said, her eyes flashing fire. "And certainly no moral reservations."
He looked up, his brown eyes steady. "No, I had no moral reservations, Miss Orlinov. It might be wise if you realized that fully. I really can't afford to have morals at all." His smile was almost kind. "You see, I'm not a terribly clever man. I'm very slow, and it takes me a long time to comprehend things that more intelligent people understand immediately. I have to work extremely hard even to stay level with those people." Beneath the impassive features, she was suddenly conscious of a current of power. "You may not be aware of it as yet, but I'm tremendously ambitious. I have no intention of giving up the position I've reached by such hard work because I've failed to please the senator in this matter." He shook his head. "No, I definitely can't afford to quibble about morals."
Good Lord, and to think she'd taken the man so lightly that first day in her dressing room. She could feel his determination as almost a living force. He might have been as slow as he said, but that calm, ruthless obstinacy was still an element to be reckoned with.
"I'm sorry you thought my presence was required for your purpose," she said caustically, ignoring the shiver of apprehension that realization had brought. "Because I'm afraid you'll have to make other plans. I have no intention of remaining here."
"So I understand," he said. "Your escape attempts have been brought to my attention." There was a flicker of impersonal admiration in his face. "Some of them were quite inventive. You're to be congratulated. You really kept my men on their toes."
"I wasn't conducting a training exercise for your security team, Mr. Betz."
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The results were the same." He frowned. "But you came extremely close once or twice. I think it's best that you cease these attempts."
"I imagine you would," she said with saccharine sweetness. "But I have no intention of obliging you, and one day quite soon I'll succeed."
"That's what I'm worried about," he said. "I couldn't tolerate that possibility, you know." His brown eyes were mournful. "As I said, you're a very difficult woman, Miss Orlinov. According to the information I've received, you haven't even fulfilled the purpose for which I brought you here."
"Not by any fault of yours," she said bitterly. "You certainly believe in hedging your bets, don't you? Kidnapping wasn't enough—you had to give me that damned injection!"
"The paradynoline?" His brows lifted in surprise. "I thought you'd realize it was required in that situation. It was essential that Dr. Ryker be kept contented in my absence."
"Well, I'm happy to say that your little plan failed miserably," she said between her teeth. "I can assure you that Ryker has been far from content since you've been gone."
"Yes, you've not been occupying his bed, I understand." He was frowning in perplexity. "I didn't count on Dr. Ryker's not insisting on it once I'd arranged things so efficiently. It was quite a surprise to me." His expression cleared. "However, you appear to have kept things interesting enough to hold his attention even without a physical involvement. So bringing you here was definitely the correct move. Now that I'm back I can take care of any adjustments that need to be made."
"Adjustments?" Her expression was blank with surprise.
"Well, you can't expect a man with Dr. Ryker's physical needs to continue like this indefinitely," he said calmly. "It's been over four weeks since Dr. Ryker's had a woman, and we have to assume he's very much on edge.
There's even a possibility that he may become impatient and restless again if the situation's not fixed soon. That can't be allowed, of course."
"And just how do you intend to 'fix' it?" she asked, her fists clenching unconsciously at her sides. "Another
injection of paradynoline, perhaps?"
"I'll have to think about that," he answered thoughtfully. "It didn't seem too effective the first time, but that could have been because the dosage was comparatively light. I'll have to discuss it with Dr. Jeffers before I come to a decision. There don't appear to be many other avenues to explore. It's an exceptionally touchy problem to handle, considering Dr. Ryker's aversion to using force in your case."
Her question had been sarcastic, but the man was actually serious! She felt a shiver of heat run through her as she recalled those hours of mindless sensuality she'd known the morning in Jared's arms. Combined with the powerful natural attraction she'd admitted to herself, she'd be no more than a puppet whose strings were pulled by Jared . . . and the man standing before her. She couldn't even bear to think about it. "No," she said, her eyes wide and frightened in her suddenly pale face. "No, you wouldn't do that to me."
"What?" he asked, his face still clouded with absorption with his "touchy" problem. "Oh, no final decision has been made. I thought I'd made that clear. I'll get back to you later on it." He turned toward the door that led to the sauna area. "Now, I know you want to start your practice, so I'll leave you to get on with it. I apologize again for interfering with your time here." He turned back, and there was again that flicker of admiration on his face. "I understand those practice sessions aren't only long, but require an amazing amount of stamina and self-discipline. Those are qualities that I admire very much, Miss Orlinov. Very much indeed."
For fully half a minute after the door closed behind him she continued to stare at it in bewilderment. It was hard to believe that their conversation had actually taken place. Betz seemed a villain straight out of the funnies, but no cartoon character could ever be this frightening. She hadn't the slightest doubt that once his decision had been made, only something resembling an earthquake registering eight on the Richter scale would keep him from carrying out his plan. And if those plans included her willing presence in Jared's bed, he'd use any method he saw fit to effect that end.
Paradynoline. That threat had frightened her even more than she'd let him see. She closed her eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath. She couldn't let her will be tampered with again like that. Even though she was certain Jared would have nothing to do with Betz's plan, that didn't mean he could prevent her being given the drug. She'd been injected with it once before against his will, and what was to prevent its happening again? A determination on the scale of Betz's was as difficult to fight as a tidal wave moving slowly and inexorably toward shore.
Her lids flew open, and she moved automatically toward the barre, her mind churning furiously. There was no way she could afford to let herself be given that drug. But with Betz back at the chateau, it was a very real possibility. She automatically assumed first position and began grand plies. As always her gaze was fixed on her reflection in one of the mirrors attached to the walls around the barre. That gaze was entirely lacking its usual critical study of the position of her body; in fact her actions were mechanical, her attention far removed from ballet exercises.
She'd already resolved that her next escape attempt must not only be successful, but executed very soon. Now, that timing had to be accelerated by the urgency
engendered by Betz's arrival. Tonight. It must be tonight.
Once the decision was made, she felt her spirits lift and the fear ebb out of her. Yes, tonight would not only satisfy the urgency she felt, but quite possibly it would catch Betz's men off-guard. They wouldn't expect an escape attempt so soon after yesterday's fiasco. Well, they'd get a little surprise, wouldn't they? She grinned at her reflection in the mirror. Now for the escape route itself, she thought.
The road. Here, too, the element of surprise might be on her side, and now that she knew the location of the checkpoint, there was every chance that she'd be able to circumvent it without being observed. She'd be on foot this time, and, she hoped, they wouldn't expect that either. It was about three miles to the checkpoint and Lord knew how many more to the valley below. She was going to need all her strength to make that journey at a pace that would assure her of finding a town or a farm before Betz was aware of her disappearance and on her trail.
She'd reached the section of barre exercises devoted to the strenuous grand battement, the rapid raising of the leg to its greatest height and its controlled return to the floor. She lowered her pointed toe. She wouldn't go all out, as she usually did. She would conserve her energy, for she would need all the energy she could muster . . . tonight.
Chapter 8
Damn this moonlight! Was it only last night she had blamed the hill moon for her temporary madness? She was going to blame it for considerably more than that if those clouds didn't oblige. She needed the cover of darkness to cross the courtyard and get around the curve in the road before the guard completed his rounds.
She shrank against the stone wall, deep in shadow. Her gaze was fixed worriedly on the sky, watching the clouds; they approached the moon with a laziness that stretched her nerves to the limit. The guard should be back around to the courtyard in another four minutes, according to her calculations. She'd spent three hours here in the shadows four nights ago, observing and timing the guard's movements. If she hadn't had an opportunity to sneak into the back of the van, she'd wanted to be prepared to go out on foot, as she was doing now ... as she would be doing now if those clouds would just cover the moon. She bit her lip in frustration. She didn't dare leave the shadows until the moon was obscured, and she must at least be across the courtyard before the guard rounded the north wall. She could chance his being in the courtyard for the short time it would take her to get around the curve of the road.
Only three minutes to go. With one hand she tugged at the collar of her turtleneck sweater beneath the dark jacket while she clutched a coil of rope in the other. Move, damn you, she commanded the clouds. With maddening slowness, they drifted across the bright sphere, bringing the welcome darkness.
She flew out of the shadows like an arrow shot from a battlement in the chateau long ago, the rubber soles of her tennis shoes skimming over the rough cobbles with sure swiftness. By the time she reached the road she had only one minute to go before the guard would reappear, and already those blasted clouds were rolling through the skies as if fleeing the moon.
She streaked down the road, her braid flying out in back of her and her breath laboring in her lungs as she raced the cloud that could mean her escape or capture. She lost. She was a full fifty yards from the curve in the road when the moonlight suddenly flooded the road with the clarity of daylight. She felt the remaining breath leave her body, and she hesitated for a moment, as if that moonlight were an actual blow striking at her. Lord, it was as bright as a spotlight, and the guard should be rounding the wall right now.
She hadn't thought she could go any faster, but the sudden burst of adrenaline that panic released proved her wrong. Let him be late, she prayed frantically, or let him be thinking of something else. Let him stop for a cigarette, or be looking anywhere but at the road. At any moment she expected to hear a shout and the sound of feet pounding heavily on the cobblestones behind her, but there was no sound except the sharp gasps of her own breathing. Then she'd rounded the curve in the road and was out of sight of the chateau!
Relief washed over her with a force that made her head swim. The first difficulty was overcome and she was
on her way. She slowed her steps and then came to a complete halt. Her heart was pounding painfully in her breast and her knees felt weak as butter from reaction. Now that the first bit was out of the way she had to regain control of her nerves, quiver from the tension produced by the precarious cloud cover. There was still the checkpoint to get past and the rest of the road to the valley to cross before she was free.
She drew several deep, slow breaths and then set out at a deliberate steady trot, covering a great deal of ground without feeling the same physically exhausting ffect of her sprint from the chateau.
Her escape plan had formed the morning she'd found two key pieces of mountain climbing gear in the back of a closet in the gym. Now she carried those items: coil of rope and a grappling hook. Her gaze never wavered from the road ahead. Her mind firmly shut out all fears and worries that could weaken her.
The rock-strewn road was rough under her feet and the crisp autumn breeze cool on her warm cheeks. This was far different from the last experience she'd had with a mountain. It should be a piece of cake in comparison, she assured herself staunchly. Well, perhaps it wouldn't be that simple. Though the physical conditions were certainly easier, she had the more dangerous human factors to contend with . . . and one of those human factors should be in evidence just around the next curve.
Her pace slowed to a walk, and she hugged the inner side of the road, taking as much shelter as she could from the foliage on the side of the cliff. Heaven knew there was little enough to hug, she thought dispiritedly. The road seemed to be cut out of the mountain itself here—a bluff on one side, a sloping verge of perhaps five or six yards on the other side. From the edge of the verge it was a sheer drop to the valley below.
But the verge was the key to her escape. She'd noticed there was a sparse straggle of trees on it near the checkpoint. With any luck she'd be able to use them as cover to slip past the chain link barricade across the road. Despite the moonlight, they should provide enough shadow for her to avoid being seen if she were careful. But that steeply sloping terrain was going to prove tricky. On her previous reconnaissance she'd detected little or no ground cover on the verge, and keeping her footing on an incline that steep until she reached the stand of pines was going to be nearly impossible. Her lips curved in a wry smile as she recalled her words to Jared only two weeks ago. Surefooted or not, she might well fall off this bloody mountain.