The Price of Pleasure Read Free Page B

clambered up the trail. As their home came into view, Tori surveyed it, trying to see it from a stranger’s eyes. How odd it would be to have men in their camp, gazing at the shelter, walking past the rock-ringed fire pit. For outsiders to see the workmanship, or workwomanship, more precisely, that was a testament of their dogged survival. Tori knew it was terrible of her, but she was almost eager for someone to marvel at their work. Her pride would be her downfall, Cammy would say.
    Tori didn’t believe in downfalls. It would have happened by now. Nature and Fate united to mete out challenge after challenge, and she and Cammy had beat the odds every time. They lived and lived, and would some more. No, there’d be no downfalls. Tori frowned at her thoughts. Cammy had told her she was proud, but Tori feared that she was arrogant as well.
    But then, arrogant had always served her better than afraid.
    â€œWhat direction did they set off in?” Cammy asked.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.” Tori’s smile was cold. “It will always be the wrong one.”

Two
    G rant limped to meet his crew at the canopy line near the beach, teeth gritted in pain, one arm across his chest, hand clutching his opposite shoulder. Water dripped from his hair and mixed with the sweat on his forehead to trickle into his eyes.
    Blindsided. That’s what he’d just been. Thoughts racketed in his head. Why would she run in the first place? More important, why the hell had he chased her like a dog after a carriage, and about as mindlessly? Why, if he had to do it over, would he run after her again?
    â€œGrant, you look like you tussled with the wrong feral girl,” Ian drawled. “Round one to Victoria. Or maybe not,” he said, with a pointed glance at the soaked cloth still bunched in Grant’s free hand. Grant felt his skin flush before he could grab his pack from Dooley and stuff it in.
    â€œCongratulations, Cap’n, you’ve found a survivor!” Dooley cried, his face creased in a baggy smile. “I knew you would.”
    Where Dooley’s unwavering confidence in Grant came from, Grant had no idea.
    Ian slanted a look at Grant. “Ah, but wasn’t finding her supposed to be the hard part?”
    Grant swung a lowering look at his cousin, then barked to the crew, “Get some more supplies. Just enough for one night. And scavenge as much food as we can hold for the trip back.”
    Though Dooley appeared delighted to have a chore, for the first time his sailors hesitated at their orders. They looked up at Grant with the ever-constant fear, but now he saw confusion as well. Their emotionless captain, who worshipped logic, had bolted like an animal after a girl.
    Grant decided to reassure them. “Move,” he said in a tone lacking feeling or inflection of any kind. “Now.”
    He almost had to laugh when they spun around and fled in various directions. Most of his crew were more afraid of his controlled demeanor than of his brother Derek’s infamous rants. A boisterous, lusty lot, they couldn’t understand someone who behaved as he did. They reasoned that sooner or later a man as cold as Grant would simply…snap. Still waters run deep, he’d heard them whisper to each other in warning.
    Ian snorted. “One day they’ll realize you won’t slit their throats in the night. Then where will you be?”
    â€œRetired.” Grant yanked off his sopping boots and ruined shirt, then snatched dry clothing out of his pack. After he changed, he found Ian gathering a machete and canteen from the pile of equipment. “You’re gearing up as if you’re going in with me. Let me make this clear—this is a jungle. There will be no revelry, no drink, and no women of your…distinct caliber.”
    â€œUnderstood, Cap’n. ” Ian shouldered the canteen. “But I’d still like to go. If, of course, my shore dress is acceptable