Captive Read Free Page B

rent of fabric as he sought her in his haste.
    She felt again the fever of his lips, his hands. Upon her belly, the smooth flesh of her hips, the length of her thighs. She felt the searing wet heat of his tongue laving her belly, touching her inner thighs, his fingers, touching, finding, his tongue again …
    She cried out in the wilderness and fought him anew. Fought the passion, and the hunger, and all the raw, explosive things he awoke within her. It was a battle lost, for the fire she had touched was one that burned indeed, a conflagration that was caught by the wild winds of the wilderness and sent flying to the heavens. Sweetwaves of ecstasy burst into the soaring golds and crimsons of that fire, and she shrieked out in the night, closing her eyes, opening them again only to find that his blue gaze was now pinning her to the moss-strewn ground, and that he had leaned to one side to loosen his breeches. Before she could speak or stir, he was with her, enveloping her in his arms when she gasped and shuddered, her body accepting the swift, knifing invasion of his. He seemed to fill her, and fill her anew. Sink into her until she thought that she would scream and split and die, then withdraw, and fill her again, and with each touch, bring her closer to that magic once again. Yet the swift seduction of his first thrusts gave way quickly to something much more reckless, ruthless even. Savage.
    A hunger so deep, it swept her away once again. Brought the earth against her back, the breath ripping from her body. Slick, rippled bronze muscle slammed against her breasts; rock-hard hips commanded the rhythm of her own. The fire of his sex burned within her, steel, hot, touching her, filling her, burning within her …
    Exploding within her …
    A liquid fire. Encompassing her body, seeming to seep throughout it, touching all of her with all of him. She trembled as ripple after ripple brought her back down to the bed of moss, down into the moonlit darkness, once again into the slick, powerful arms of the man who held her.
    His weight moved from her. An arm cast over his forehead, he stared up at the stars now covering the night sky. After a moment Teela pulled the tangle of her hair from beneath him and tried to gather the remnants of her clothing. She felt him watching her. Her bodice lay in pieces; nothing was salvagable. She ignored his piercing blue gaze and stood naked, walking to the water’s edge. She knelt down and bathed her face in the coolness of the river. She felt him by her side, and looked ahead. “Feel the fire!” she whispered softly, bitterly.
    “You should have known better than to play with an Indian boy from the very beginning,” he said, his voice husky.
    She stared at him hard. “I never played,” she said with dignity, and rose again. Looking around the ground at the ruined fabric, she murmured, “It will be a cold night.”
    He stood, walking back to her. “I will warm you through it. In the morning we’ll worry about something for you to wear.”
    She lifted her chin. “I don’t intend to stay the night.”
    “You wanted to play the game. It is well under way. You didn’t run to your drawing room soon enough. Now, Miss Warren, you will be my guest.”
    “Prisoner, so it seems.”
    “Whatever. You will stay.”
    He plucked her up from the ground, his eyes upon her as he walked to the shelter he had created in the woods. One easily made, easily destroyed, as his few belongings were easily carried through the wilderness he knew so well. His land, a savage land. And land he had vowed he would keep. There would be no surrender; his people would be the undefeated, the unconquered.
    Now he set her down upon the furs within the shelter, giving her one to cover her shoulders as she shivered. He offered her water from a leather gourd, and she drank, then returned it.
    “You’ll never keep me if I choose to take my chances and leave,” she promised him. “I came from a drawing room, but I’ve