Enticed by Ecstasy (Wicked Treasures) (2 page)

Was he jealous because she had money?
 
Had some wealthy woman once scorned him?
 
Why she should care, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like being hated for no apparent reason.
 
It was a fact she could be most unpleasant when she wanted to be.

“Glad to hear it,” Rye said, his tone bland as he dismounted from his elephant.
 
“We’ve stopped for lunch, but if you’d rather take your meal atop the elephant, I’ll have it brought to you.”

Abby clenched her teeth.
 
Would it behoove the man to offer her his assistance?
 
She was paying him an absurd amount of money to see her through her plan.

She lifted a brow and stared down at him with her most haughty expression.
 
“I’ll pass on eating atop the elephant, thank you.”

As she began to dismount, she bit her lip while she hastily struggled to remember how she was shown.
 
Just as she thought she had managed it, Abby felt her foot slip and she fell backwards.

A scream locked in her throat, but it was a pair of strong arms that caught her.

“You need to pay more attention when you’re shown instructions,” Rye said and practically tossed her out of his arms.

Abby drew in a shaky breath as she set about straightening her skirt and calming herself.
 
She heartily disliked Mr. Channing Rye now.
 
Never had she been treated so rudely. Except by her father.

She turned to find that Rye had walked away to get his food.
 
Abby didn’t expect to be ignored so.
 
Men of her acquaintance didn’t begin to eat until the lady was ready.
 
Apparently, Rye had been out of society for many years to forget such simple manners.

Abby was too excited about it being noon to say anything to Rye.
 
She could hardly wait for the next step in her plan, and the only drawback was that she wouldn’t be there when her father learned the truth.

She accepted the banana and bag of food from one of the natives Rye had hired.
 
Abby gave him a nod of thanks and a smile.
 
She walked around their small camp and ate faster than she intended, but her anticipation got the better of her.

Once her meal was finished, she waited impatiently for Rye to announce they would set out.
 
Instead he lay back against a tree and shifted his hat to shield his face.
 
A few moments later she heard him snore.

Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.
 
For several minutes she stared at him while he continued to snore. With a sign of frustration, Abby walked around the tree and sat back against it, her ankles crossed in front of her.
 
The hot noon sun soon began to lull her to sleep.

Just before she closed her eyes, she looked over to make sure the elephants hadn’t wandered off.
 
It would thoroughly mess up her plans if their only means of transportation left.

Abby sighed as she gave into sleep.

Chapter Two

Channing St. John wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm before replacing his hat upon his heat.
 
He could just barely make out the outlines of the elephants as they faded into the distance.

With a sigh he turned to the woman sleeping peacefully behind him.
 
His life had bordered on Hell, the outlook bleak and uninviting.
 
He thought coming to Africa would help, but his hatred and need for revenge continued to fester.

Taking over Tom Rye’s work as an expedition leader after Tom’s death had seemed like a final drop into the spiraling abyss that was his world.
 
Until a letter from London had arrived for Tom.
 
A letter from a Miss Abigail Huntington.

Channing had hardly been able to comprehend his luck, and then he’d read the letter.
 
He hadn’t even paused in his response, making sure to write as Mr. Rye.
 
After many more letters, Channing began to find the revenge he craved so desperately could happen far sooner than he’d anticipated.

What he hadn’t expected was the woman who stepped off the ship yesterday.
 
Abigail held herself regally, as if her family’s money – money stained with blood – would give her anything she desired.

He had watched her quietly as she got her bearings after disembarking from the ship.
 
The smile she had directed at the lad unloading her bags had unsettled him.

Her golden blonde waves had been elegantly pulled back in a simple knot at the base of her neck.
 
Her pale blue gown was made of the most expensive cloth in London, and to his surprise, no jewels graced her body.

And then her pale blue eyes had impaled him.
 
She had large, oval-shaped eyes that tilted up at the sides ever so slightly.
 
Her heart-shaped face wasn’t exactly beautiful, but exotic.
 
Her mouth was wide and her lips full, pouty even.
 
Combined with her slanted eyes and high cheekbones, Abigail collected looks wherever she went.

Then again, men knew a woman with money.

Channing got to his feet and rubbed his hands together.
 
He would have his vengeance.
 
Finally.
 
And then maybe he could begin to live again.

She stirred behind him.
 
Channing turned to watch as the great Harrison Huntington’s daughter yawned and opened her eyes.
 
She stretched, arching her back, which drew his gaze to her breasts and small waist.
 

Slowly she sat up and looked around.
 
A heartbeat later she jumped to her feet.
 
No screaming or swooning for Abigail Huntington, not that Channing was surprised.
 
The rapid rise and fall of her chest told him that she was worried.
 
And frightened.

“Odd how plans can go awry so quickly.
 
And when you least expect it.”

She whirled around to him.
 
“Oh, Mr. Rye,” she said with a hand on her chest.
 
“Thank goodness.
 
I thought I had been left behind.”

“You have been left.”
 
He hooked his thumbs in his pants pocket and watched her.
 
“You wanted to be kidnapped after all.”

Her gaze narrowed as she began to realize all was not as it had seemed.
 
“Kidnapped only in appearance, least you forget what we discussed.”

“Oh, I remember what you wanted, Miss Huntington, but it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Without a word, she lifted her skirts in her hand and spun around as she ran away from him.

Channing smiled in satisfaction before he ran after her.
 
He caught her quickly, spinning her back roughly against a tree, pinning her at her throat with his forearm.

“I wouldn’t advise doing that again, Abigail,” he said slowly and softly.
 
“There are animals out there, animals you can’t see that are just waiting to pounce on you and have you for a meal.”

“Who are you?”
 

Her voice shook slightly, but other than that, she held her fear in check.

Bravo.
 
But it won’t do you much good.

“My name is Channing St. John.”
 
He expected her to recognize his name, and when she didn’t, the old anger began to burn inside him once more.

She licked her pouty lips.
 
“What do you want with me?”

He chuckled as he released her and stepped back.
 
“Isn’t it obvious?
 
I’m going to ransom you back to your father.”

Her mouth parted and her eyes widened.
 
“You don’t know what you’ve done.”

“Your plan was to have him think you were kidnapped.
 
I’m simply making your kidnapping a fact.
 
The men I hired have returned to the port and will send a message to your wealthy father.”

“Mr. St. John,” she began.

“Channing,” he corrected her.

She sighed and briefly closed her eyes.
 
“Channing.
 
You’ve made a dreadful mistake.”

“Don’t.
 
Even.
 
Try it.
 
Nothing you can say will change my mind.
 
I’ve got my own reasons for kidnapping you.
 
Now, we better start, or we won’t make camp before nightfall.”

“How will we get there?”

He ran a hand down his face.
 
“We’re walking.
 
I know it’s something new to you, but you better get used to it.
 
And keep up,” he warned.

Channing didn’t wait to see if she would follow as he pivoted and started walking.
 
He knew she was terrified, and though she had more pride than a woman should, she would follow him.

It was only a heartbeat later when he heard her rushing to catch up with him.
 
He kept his strides long, making her nearly run to stay with him.

Part of Channing knew he shouldn’t be taking his anger out on Abigail, but she was here and her father wasn’t.
 
He had to release his anger somewhere, and it just happened to be Abigail who would take the brunt of it.

The other part of Channing, the one who still burned with anger and betrayal, wanted to lash out at anyone and everyone who dared to venture too close to him.
 
He needed his revenge, to cleanse his body and heart.

“Mr. St. John.
 
Channing,” Abigail corrected, her voice strained with her rapid breathing.
 
“Please, slow down.”

He forced himself to slow, clenching his jaw in an attempt to hold back all the things he wanted to say about her precious father.

She blew out a breath.
 
“Thank you.”

How she could be so civil when he had just told her that she was well and truly kidnapped, he didn’t know.
 

“Are you always so polite?”
 
He hadn’t meant to ask, but it slipped out.

She glanced at him, a finely arched golden brow raised.
 
“It appears at least one of us was raised with manners.”

He didn’t bother to respond.
 
He knew just the sort of woman she was.

“You couldn’t even leave me one of my bags?” she said, her voice dripping with ice.
 
“Not a change of clothes or a hair brush.
 
Just what have I done to deserve such treatment?”

Channing whirled around to face her, making her jerk back not to run into him.
 
“Are you so selfish that you can’t walk a few miles without having a change of clothes with you?
 
Have you been cosseted so much that it pains you to walk through the heat?”

“Do you have such hate in your soul that you want to make an innocent woman suffer?”

For a moment, Channing was stunned.
 
Then he threw back his head and laughed.
 
“Leave it to the wealthy to think of nothing but themselves.
 
Did you notice the poor and starving children in the port?
 
Did you bother to give them money to help them find food?
 
Or was it too much for your delicate sensibilities to witness?”

“I think I can honestly say that I loathe you from the very bottom of my soul.”
 
She barely spared him a glance as she walked around him.

At least he managed to shut her up.
 
There was nothing that could make him change his mind, not after praying for revenge for so long.
 
It was within his grasp, and he would be sure to bring the great Huntington family to their knees.

She kept just to the side and back of him and didn’t utter another word, which suited Channing perfectly.
 
A few hours later, he found a watering hole.
 
As he walked to it, he noticed that she hesitated.

He glanced around them.
 
Lions were never far, but the antelope and zebras surrounding the water would alert them if a lion got too close.
 

“Just watch out for the crocodiles,” he cautioned.

The rainy season had just finished, which meant water was plentiful and predators were everywhere.

He knelt at the edge of the water and surveyed the many prints of animals that had come to drink.
 
There was only one or two that were smeared, as if they had jerked away.
 
His gaze moved to the water, and off to his left he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, disappearing into the water.

Bloody hell.

He lowered his canteen into the water and filled it, but when he offered it to Abigail, she ignored him and knelt at the edge of the water.