Читать книгу Capturing the Crown Bundle - Nina Bruhns, Caridad Piñeiro - Страница 27

Sydney gathered as many sticks as she could find, knowing they could always use more firewood, while keeping her eye out for berries or anything recognizably edible.

She wanted to go home, to her townhouse in Tice, on Naessa’s western shore. She wanted her own doctor, a thorough examination, then a huge dinner of pasta and bread.

Since none of those things were immediately forthcoming, she concentrated on what she could have. A meal of freshly caught fish or wild game. A way to get through an uncomfortable evening with a man who both despised and desired her.

And she felt the same, God only knew why.

Shaking her head, she continued gathering wood and prayed rescue would come soon, before she disgraced herself even further.

Later, when he returned with two dead rabbits dangling from his hands, she eyed the poor things and nearly gagged. It was one thing to think about eating wild game and another thing entirely to have to actually do it.

Something must have shown on her face.

“Remember, you have to eat. After all, you’re eating for two,” he said.

“I know.” She pointed to her impressive pile of sticks. “How are you at starting fires?”

He frowned. “I don’t think rubbing two sticks together will work without flint. Or,” he reached in his pocket with his free hand, “I can use this.” He held up a silver lighter, flashing a grin.

After a moment of stunned amazement—he was so damn beautiful when he smiled—Sydney shook her head and chuckled, too. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t. I found this near the wreckage. It must have belonged to Franco or Dell.”

Soon he had a small fire going. Despite her initial misgivings, the wild hare tasted better than she’d expected, and she finished hers quickly, licking the remaining fat from her fingers.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the bright orange sun sink toward the horizon. Clouds were gathering to the west, dark ominous clouds, making her shiver.

“There’s a storm brewing out over the ocean.” Chase must have seen her looking. “We can only hope it will miss us.”

A storm. Sydney shivered. Already she could smell the scent of rain in the air. The atmosphere fairly buzzed with electricity. Great. She’d promised not to touch him again, and all she could think was how much safer she’d feel in his arms.

Chase Savage. A man she barely knew.

A quick glance at him, relaxing on his elbows by their small fire, told her he was completely unaware of her irrational fear. She studied his muscular arms and long legs, and pushed away a stab of desire.

In the distance, thunder rumbled.

Heart pounding, she jumped to her feet.

He looked up in surprise. “Where’re you going?”

Carefully, she avoided looking at him. “For a walk, I think.”

“Don’t be gone too long.” He went back to watching the fire. “That storm will be here in less than an hour.”

Hesitating, she thought about telling him of her fear, the sharp terror that overtook her in the midst of a storm. But knowing he’d believe the worst of her no matter what she said, she held her tongue and moved off down the beach. Skimming rocks into the waves, she watched the storm march closer across the sky and trembled, trying to conquer her anxiety

Scooping up a flat stone, she aimed and flipped her wrist. Another rock hit the ocean with a plop. She hadn’t ever gotten the hang of skimming them across the water either.

Dry-eyed, chest aching, she looked over her shoulder at the small fire. In the dim light of dusk, she could just barely make out his silhouette, now sitting upright, adding sticks to the flames.

Alone.

To paraphrase one of her mother’s favorite country and western songs, she felt so lonesome she could cry.

She shouldn’t feel like this—after all, she was used to being by herself. Solitary. When she’d been a child, her own mother had refused to hold her. Sydney had gotten what comfort she could from an endless parade of nannies. After losing one too many beloved nannies, she had retreated into her own newfound shell. Comfortable there, she’d believed she’d made a good life, a safe life, insulated from hurt. She’d believed she was happy.

Until Prince Reginald had come along. Then, with his honeyed words and silken touch, he’d made her realize there was more to life than simply existing. A few months of his false adoration, and the walls she’d so carefully constructed around herself had crumbled, allowing a surprisingly passionate woman to emerge from the ruins.

Now, in the process of learning to rebuild those damned walls, just for tonight she longed to rip them away and toss them into the ocean.

None of this made sense.

So she walked and tossed rocks and, as the sky darkened and the sound of thunder grew louder, trembled and tried to figure out what she was going to do.

Chase waited until it was nearly dark to go look for her. Then, irritation fueled by frustration, he went after her.

For a woman who’d been Prince Reginald’s plaything, passion certainly appeared to surprise Sydney Conner. Of course, this could all be a game to her, a way to amuse herself until they were rescued and she could return to her manicures and designer clothing. Chase’s experience had taught him beautiful women were like that.

But Sydney seemed…different. More innocent, somehow. Shaking his head, Chase snorted. Kayla had convinced him she was different, too, once upon another life. He’d even believed her when she’d told him the baby she’d carried was his. He’d vowed to be careful whom he trusted after he’d learned Kayla had lied.

Careful? Once again, he burned for a woman. He desired Sydney Conner. Plain and simple. Even knowing she’d been the prince’s lover and carried Reginald’s baby, he wanted her.

He kept to the shelter of the trees, and the first raindrops splattered the leaves as the outer edge of the storm reached the island. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled across the dark sky, briefly reminding him of the horrific moments before the royal jet had crashed.

Where was Sydney?

The next flash of lightning illuminated her, running toward the forest over the rocky beach. The rain began to pelt him in earnest as he took off for her. They met halfway, which told him she’d seen him at the same time he’d seen her.

Some old television commercial with two people leaping into each other’s arms flashed into his mind. Damn, he had it bad. He forced himself to slow his pace.

Drenched, they skidded to a stop in front of each other. Eyes wide and haunted, she pushed her soaked hair away from her face and wrapped her arms around her thin waist.

Chase cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Yes, I think so. I have this thing about storms.”

“Follow me.” He had to shout to be heard over the roar of the downpour.

They ran through the deluge, lightning flashing all around them. The wind drove the rain in sheets, making it difficult to see. When they reached the shelter, he was relieved to see it still stood, despite the storm’s fury.

At the entrance, she hesitated, glancing back at him while water ran down her face in rivulets. “I—”

“Come on.” Hand in the small of her back, he helped her inside. Out of the rain, the small space felt warmer.

“How long do you think this storm will last?” The tremor in her voice could have been because she was cold.

“It’s huge. This is just the leading edge. I think the waves will surge, so it’s a good thing we’re sheltered up here, away from the beach.”

Still as a statue, she stood motionless in the dark, dripping and shivering. Only a few feet separated them. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and let their combined body heat warm them, but hesitated. “Are you all right?”

“We’re surrounded by metal,” she said, teeth chattering. “Is it safe to be here while there’s lightning?”

The rain beat steadily on the metal roof, but the rough structure held. “Safer than outside in that storm.”

He could have sworn he heard her whimper low in her throat. “Sydney?”

Pulling his lighter from his pocket, he clicked it on. In the second of light the flame provided, he saw her pale, pinched face, the terror in her dilated eyes. “You’re really frightened.”

She made a strangled sound of assent.

He fought the urge to take her in his arms. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I have a thing about storms,” she told him, her voice shaking. “Once, when I was a child, I was in a sailboat during a storm. The boat capsized. I almost drowned. Since then, I’ve always been terrified of them.”

Ah, damn. One step closed the distance between them. Telling himself he would offer only comfort, he gathered her close. Violent tremors shook her and, soaked and bedraggled, her sleek skin felt like ice.

“It’s all right,” he murmured, sinking to the ground, his arms full of drenched woman, trying to warm her the only way he could.

Her shivers had become great shudders. She clung to him with a desperation that touched him, despite all he knew about her.

“I’m sorry.” Her apology was low, her voice full of shame. “I’m so damn cold…”

He began to try and warm her in earnest, though he imagined the touch of his callused fingers felt downright sacrilegious as he rubbed them over her soft skin. The silky softness of her wet body, the curve and perfection of her form, told how far out of his league he was with a woman like her.

But she needed him now and, no matter what else he might have become, he would always have some bodyguard in him.

He prayed she wasn’t aware of how much she turned him on.

Apparently not. Oblivious, head against his chest, she continued to tremble and clutch at him, gasping out loud when another crack of thunder and flash of lightning shook the earth.

“Shh.” Attempting to soothe her, he continued to try and thaw her, to rub warmth back into her frozen limbs, while ignoring the heat that rose in him at the feel of her wrapped around him.

Disgusted with himself, he grabbed the lap blanket he’d salvaged from the wreckage and handed it to her.

“Get out of your wet clothes.” His voice sounded like rusty nails. He prayed she wouldn’t notice.

“Now? Here?” Her shocked tone made him smile, glad she couldn’t see him in the darkness.

Gently, he eased her from his lap, and shifted to lessen the pressure brought on by his growing arousal. “Yes, here. Use the blanket to dry off. Then wrap up in it.”

“Good idea.” A moment later, the sound of her unzipping her ragged slacks had him gritting his teeth. Images of Sydney, sleek and naked in his arms, tormented him, adding to his physical discomfort.

Feeling like a voyeur, he listened as she peeled off her wet blouse, and held his breath as he imagined her unhooking her bra and freeing her lush breasts. He ached to reach out and cup them, so he clenched his hands into fists to keep from doing exactly that.

“There,” she said, and sighed. “You’re right. This blanket feels good. Much warmer.”

He couldn’t find his voice to answer, so he said nothing, listening to the storm, his heartbeat drumming in his ears, and the harsh sound of his uneven breathing.

Another crack of thunder, and the rain began to batter them. The accompanying flash of lightning showed Sydney, wrapped in the blanket and standing, body rigid, her eyes wide with silent terror.

Chase clenched his jaw. If he made it through this night without touching her, he should be awarded a medal.

“Come here,” he told her, shifting to shield her from his raging erection. “Lie down and let me hold you.”

“Thank you.” She settled on the ground next to him.

Then, touching her with only his upper body, he wrapped his arm around her slender, blanket-wrapped shoulders, and wondered how the hell he was going to get any sleep.

Sydney opened her eyes, drowsy and comfortably warm. Outside, the storm still raged, but wrapped in Chase’s muscular arms, her fear had vanished. The dim light told her morning had arrived.

And she was naked, curled up against his equally bare body. Instantly, she came awake, her heartbeat tripling.

Chase still slept, his chest rising with his deep and even breathing. With one arm, he kept her close to him, tucked spoonlike against him. Twisting slowly in his arms, she lay on her back and studied him. Even asleep, he was beautiful. The stubble on his chin made him look even more masculine, even more sexy.

She had no urge to move, nowhere to go. Content to watch him, she tried to figure out her own admittedly skewed logic. She and Chase. A man she barely knew, who’d made it quite plain what he thought of her.

If it weren’t so damn pitiful, she’d laugh. Chalk one up to feeling extremely vulnerable. Not only did she consider her and her unborn baby’s survival a miracle, but her companion on this deserted island was a drop-dead-gorgeous and sexy-as-hell man.

Another woman might have found this heaven. Sydney tried to decide if she was in hell. The last thing she—or her child—needed was another disastrous relationship.

It might have been better if she’d demanded he make her another shelter, but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t want to be alone.

No, if she was being totally honest, the simple reality was she craved his kiss, his touch, his smile.

Chase.

When he touched her she felt like the most desirable woman on earth.

She was an idiot: lying here naked while her clothes, surely dry by now, lay within arm’s reach of their makeshift bed.

But berating herself did little good. She was only human after all. Every time he shifted his body, she felt the movement vibrate along her nerve endings, straight to the inner core of her. The storm-moist air caressed her bare skin, and she felt hypersensitive. Everything—the rustle of the leaves underneath them, the rise and fall of his chest, his masculine scent, the way his tousled blond hair fell across his forehead—aroused her as she’d never been before.

He turned, still sleeping, and muttered something, too low for her to understand at first. A name? While she tried to puzzle that, he snuggled against her, his perfectly formed body pressed against the full length of hers. For an instant, she forgot to breathe.

Good Lord, how she wanted this man!

Tentatively, she stretched, rubbing herself against him like a starving cat. Her entire body tingled. Her breasts were tender and aching, and her pulse beat hot and heavy in places she’d never known it could.

Ah, temptation. One heartbeat away from continuing to move her body against him while he slept, she tried desperately to remember the reasons she shouldn’t. But all she could think about was how badly she wanted to stroke him, caress him, and take him beyond the bounds of his control before he woke and rationality set in. A veritable feast of man sprawled out before her, Chase unknowingly lured her to do things she’d never before done, even with Reginald. She’d placed her hand against his chest and begun to trace it lower before she realized she’d moved.

Horrified, she froze. What was wrong with her? Yes, she was attracted to him. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t be?

But she wasn’t like this. Sydney had always been different. Once, only once, had she given in to impulse and let Reginald’s lies persuade her to his bed. And now she carried his child, the baby of another beautiful man who’d broken her heart.

Had she learned nothing from her mistake? Having been a fool once, was she doomed to act foolishly forever?

“Sydney?”

Her breath caught. With a gasp, she removed her hand from him. “Yes?”

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice husky with sleep or, she shivered, desire. His hazel eyes roamed over her, reminding her she was still naked, stretched out seductively, as if she’d been waiting for him to wake and make love to her.

In a way, she had.

Feeling her face heat, she rolled away and grabbed for her clothes. The tattered shorts, once her favorite pair of slacks, were still damp. She pulled them on anyway.

“Yes. The storm woke me,” she said, struggling to yank her mostly dry blouse over her head.

Never taking his eyes from her, he sat up, dragging his hand through his hair. One corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “Some storm. I’m glad this shelter held.”

Even fully clothed, her heart still raced like a runaway rabbit. She cleared her throat. “So far, so good. Not even a single leak.”

His gaze dropped lower, to her breasts, where her nipples pushed rebelliously against her ragged shirt. He gave a harsh intake of breath, his eyes darkening.

She couldn’t help but wonder if he was as turned on as she.

No way was she finding out. Knowing how volatile the situation could become, she climbed to her feet and crossed her arms.

He tilted his head, squinting up at her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her need still pulsed within her, making her ache. She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, wishing she could think of something to say, something to diffuse the fierce sexual tension making the air feel so heavy.

Chase sat up, drawing the blanket close and carefully wrapping it around him.

“Sydney, don’t.” Though husky, his voice sounded tight, controlled, much like the man himself most of the time. If not for the hunger in his eyes, she’d think him unaffected. “Don’t try to seduce me.”

Seduce him? If he only knew how badly she wanted to and how hard she’d tried to resist him. She swallowed. “I’m not.”

Narrowing his gaze, he raked his hand through his hair. He looked away and cursed. “I don’t know what it is about you. I even see the promise of sex in your smile.”

“Sex in my smile?” Though she tossed his words back at him, a thrill ran through her at his words. “That sounds lovely, but it’s ridiculous. I’ve done nothing to entice you. I wouldn’t know how! I’ve never tried to seduce anyone in my life.”

He clenched his jaw and got to his feet, keeping the damn blanket snug around his waist. “But you have. Maybe you don’t realize it, but everything about you is a seduction. The way you move, the way you toss your head. Your smile, your voice…” Cursing under his breath, he took a step toward her and stopped, hands clenched at his sides. “You’d tempt a dead man straight into hell.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished. When I first saw you, I wondered. You weren’t Reginald’s usual type. But now I can better understand what the prince saw in you.”

Reginald. Hearing that name was like a dash of cold water. If Chase had wanted to hurt her, he’d succeeded admirably. Together, she and Reginald had created another life, and he’d spurned her. Not just her, but all of it. The man hadn’t wanted his own child. Exactly as her sire hadn’t wanted her.

She should be used to rejection, honestly. But that didn’t stop it from hurting. Hot tears stung the back of her throat. Damn hormones. She turned away, fist to her mouth.

Behind her, Chase snarled. “One mention of Reginald and that’s enough to bring you to tears? Did you truly care for him that much?”

He sounded furious. And hurt. Which was impossible. Either way, Sydney knew she shouldn’t care. Didn’t care. Hell, she wouldn’t care.

The rain had picked up again, mirroring her mood. On the edge of losing her fragile grip on self-control, she didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, when it came right down to it.

“Who are you, Sydney Conner?” His hoarse voice told her he’d moved up behind her. He touched her shoulder, his hand impossibly gentle, and turned her to face him, pulling her close to his chest. Though she didn’t resist, she let him hold her, keeping herself rigid. Silently, he stroked her hair, while she fought back tears that came for no good reason.

“Go ahead and cry.”

Those four words, muttered against her hair by a man she suspected would rather miss every target on the firing range than soothe a weeping woman, pushed her over the edge.

She cried while he held her, this stranger who wasn’t a stranger, not any longer. Nearly dying in a plane crash and being stuck together on a deserted island had made him feel familiar. Intimately.

Her tears soaked his bare chest. Bare, muscular, hard chest. Dimly, this registered and, as her weeping subsided, she found herself longing to move the hand pressed against him. To splay her fingers, to stroke him slowly, to allow herself to indulge in all that masculinity right there under her fingertips.

His comment about seduction hadn’t been that far off the mark.

Good Lord! Had she truly become her mother? Gone totally over the edge? Though she’d already made one mistake her mother had made, she vowed she wouldn’t make another. If her affair with Reginald had made her this way, she needed to get back to the woman she’d been before.

This didn’t make her desire for him disappear, or even lessen. She still craved his touch, somehow addicted to something she’d never even had.

Hah! If he’d thought she’d been trying to seduce him before, what would he think if she gave in to her irrational need to caress him?

She wouldn’t. She’d made enough mistakes to last her entire twenty-four years, Reginald chief among them. She didn’t need to make one more.

Hiccuping, she sniffed and pushed herself away. “Sorry about that.” She wouldn’t look at him, her feminine vanity not wanting him to see her no doubt bright-red nose and swollen eyes.

He muttered something that sounded like “That’s okay.”

Though she waited, he made no move to leave, even though the drumming of the rain had all but stopped.

Wiping at her eyes, she managed a watery smile and gave the doorway a pointed look. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. The rain’s letting up. How about we go outside and forage for some breakfast?”

“What?” he stared at her as if he thought she’d lost her mind. “It’s barely dawn.”

“I’m pregnant,” she said crossly, then smiled to soften the sting of her tone. “Not only am I changing the subject, but I really am hungry.”

Crossing his arms, he swallowed. “You know, I keep forgetting you’re pregnant.”

One deep breath, then another. Soon, maybe her erratic heartbeat would slow down to normal. “It’s too soon for me to show.” Patting her still-flat abdomen, she grimaced. “Give it a few months. I’ve had so little time to actually enjoy my pregnancy. Every little girl dreams of the day when she’ll be pregnant and become a mommy.”

“Even a princess?”

She could see him relaxing in stages. “Yes, even a princess. I wanted to be able to luxuriate in it, wallow in it, you know? Instead, I’m trapped on an island with little food and no—”

“Luxuries.” He sounded so hard and so certain, she blinked.

“That’s not what I was going to say. I was thinking more of people. Friends that care.”

The look he gave her was skeptical. “Don’t tell me you don’t miss the life you had in Naessa. You made the papers often, you know. Your lifestyle was no secret. I saw your townhouse on the coast on that TV show. You lived like royalty.”

If only he knew. She’d filled her home with beautiful things, trying to fill the emptiness inside her. She’d been lonely more often than not, especially when she wasn’t traveling with the symphony.

But he didn’t know that. No one did. “I confess to missing some of it, yes.”

“What?” His voice was fierce, and his hazel eyes darkened. “Which do you miss most? The Egyptian cotton sheets? The fine restaurants? Or the chance to have Frost and French design your maternity clothes?”

“You know about them?”

“I’m in public relations. I have to keep up with the trends. Answer my question. Which do you miss the most?” He took a step closer, his face intent.

Heart caught in her throat, she stared at him.

He leaned close, and for one heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Worse, she knew if he did, this time she wouldn’t pull away.