Tempestuous Eden (21 page)

He was awaiting a response from her, and she slowly nodded, miserably biting at her lip. He glanced back to her foot and his fingers touched the gauze as he assured himself the fresh bleeding had stopped.

And then they both suddenly became aware that the rough cloth skirt had bunched and risen high on Blair’s thigh. A static tension rippled between them; her limb appeared so long, pale, and vulnerable—gracefully shaped and so inviting. And the hiking up of her skirt left so very little to the imagination.

Craig abruptly pulled her skirt back down and turned from her to head out of the cabin. “Stay right there until I come back,” he commanded curtly.

Blair allowed her head to fall to the pillow. How was it possible to feel so many emotions within minutes? She had been so mad, she felt like a blazing torch, but just moments later, when he had responded so fleetly to her pain, she had felt an overwhelming urge to reach up and touch the tawny hair and tell him that she was all right with him near.

And again, even when he had held her in violence, she had felt that intense sensation of hot, stirring excitement.

God, what was the matter with her? she wondered, pressing her fingers against bruised lips. How could she be so foolish?

Because he wasn’t innately a violent man; his power was that of mind more than body. Although dangerous, it was always clearly apparent to Blair that a gentleness toward her lurked beneath Craig’s seeming roughness. A tenderness.

And then she was recalling his eyes, the lightness of his touch as he adjusted her skirt. And God, she could remember his touch of just a few nights ago, sometimes rough and always demanding, rough only when he had swept her to a passion to equal his own.

“Don’t!” she whispered aloud to herself, “Don’t!” She couldn’t allow her mind to wander that way.

Cows and chickens!
she reminded herself with a clench of the teeth. Think of the humiliation. Think of the anger.

The boat suddenly jarred. A long sucking sound issued through the cabin as the earth released its grip upon the hull. She could hear Craig calling thanks to the captain who had given them the tow. And then they were on their way.

She didn’t have the strength or energy to disobey Craig and move. In time, she knew, he would come to her. She closed her eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

S
HE MUST HAVE SLEPT
a long while, because when she opened her eyes again, it was with the realization that though the boat was swaying, she wasn’t moving forward. There was movement in the cabin, and as she focused sleep-fogged eyes, she saw Craig once more at work in the galley.

With that sixth sense of his, he knew she had wakened. He turned to her with a scowl. “I hope you realize you almost burned us up this morning.”

Automatically smoothing her hair, Blair sat up in the bed. “Am I supposed to be sorry?”

“Yes!” he snapped, moving toward her with what at first appeared to be menace, but then she realized he was merely handing her a plate of something that looked like stew. “I value my hide, Mrs. Teile, and I assume that you value yours. Grow up a little. You aren’t getting away from me, and it seems you’re determined to kill one of us with your escape attempts.”

Blair accepted the plate he handed her because she was ravenous. “Taylor, trying to get away from you has nothing to do with growing up. Someone neglected to tell you that kidnap victims were not necessarily cheerful and cooperative.”

“You could trust me,” he said quietly.

It was tempting, so tempting that it hurt. “Sorry,” she said coolly, turning her attention to her food.

He sighed and moved into the galley, then returned and sat across from her at the table. Suddenly feeling ridiculous and vulnerable sitting on the bed, Blair shifted to join him at the table.

“No,” he ordered quickly, “you’re not getting out of bed today. You do any more to that foot and we really will be in trouble.”

“I can’t just sit in a bed all day.”

“Well, today you will,” he told her firmly. Both fell silent as they finished eating, then Craig rose, took both plates, and put them in the sink. He returned to Blair’s side and sat beside her, grasping her injured foot without a word. He unwound the bandages, cursed softly, and rose once more to return with the first-aid kit. Blair stiffened and dug her fingers into the bedding as he again cleaned and bound it.

“You will stay off it today,” he repeated softly. Then he was rising and left her behind as he climbed the ladder topside.

Blair couldn’t remember a longer day in her life. The sun had dropped low before Craig returned to the cabin, having cast anchor for the night. By that time Blair was thoroughly irritated and edgy.

She watched as he came directly to her. “How does it feel?” he inquired.

“Fine,” she snapped shortly.

He shrugged and moved away. “I thought you might like to go up on deck for dinner,” he murmured indifferently. “But …”

He seemed so capable of so easily dismissing her! Blair thought with a sudden fury. She swung both legs over the side of the bed and grasped the paneling for support.

“I can go topside,” she insisted, then felt her fury drain as he looked at her with quelling eyes. “Really. All right, I was stupid this morning, but I’ll be careful, I won’t put any weight on it.” He was silent and she suddenly found herself pleading, bargaining. “I’ll cook dinner; I won’t really have to move, I’ll balance—”

“You have a deal, Mrs. Teile,” Craig interrupted her.

She had a deal all right, but she hadn’t counted on his hovering right next to her, determined to support her. Blair was amazed that she was eventually able to turn out a meal of well-seasoned pork and vegetables with his constant proximity.

“Stay here,” he ordered her when two plates had been prepared. “I’ll be back for you.”

After taking their meals and another cask of the rather acidic burgundy topside, he did return, and she found herself being carried up the ladder. “After you sleep on that a night,” he said huskily, setting her down and referring to her foot, “it will begin to heal. And then you can move around a little.”

It was strangely peaceful on the river that night; the water moved in slow, hypnotic ripples. The breeze was faint, carrying the soft rustle of jungle foliage and the easy lap of the river. If she were just clothed differently, Blair thought as she glanced at Craig and he smiled, causing her heart to skip a beat, and if the sailboat were something other than this downtrodden tub, they could have been any couple out for the peace and beauty of the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Handsome America. The scene was mocking; Craig was a mockery, a man so secure in his masculinity that he afforded himself a vast sensitivity.

He lifted his cup of wine to her. “To a very pleasant meal, Mrs. Teile. Thanks.”

Blair shrugged, unwilling to accept the compliment. “You seem to do all right yourself. You can cook.”

“I can cook,” he shrugged, “but not well.”

A little pain tugged at Blair’s heart as he grinned ruefully. Why? The question exploded in her mind. She had found a man who had effortlessly invaded her very soul; a man nothing less than incredible, and he was either a brilliant crook or a political fanatic.

“It surprises me that you’re not a marvelous cook, Taylor,” she murmured caustically. “After all, cooking is easily achieved by reading directions, and you seem to be adept at following instructions.”

She felt his stiffening withdrawal and was pleased that she seemed to have struck a nerve.

“I do follow orders, Mrs. Teile,” he said coolly.

“Whose orders?” Blair pounced immediately.

“We call him Chief,” he said blandly.

“Very droll,” Blair murmured acidly. “You’re a waste, Taylor.”

“Oh, really?” He picked up his burgundy and rolled it within the cup. “Would you care to explain that?”

“No,” Blair rasped, picking up her own glass and draining the wine. Damn! Why had she let that slip? Because she was feeling reckless, the hours of solitude in the cabin below had left her … what? The time had left her craving his presence, his tenderness when he worried over the gash in her foot.

He was simply too right a man to be so wrong.

“I’d like to hear an explanation,” Craig demanded, his cup connecting with the deck as he brought it sharply down beside him.

Explanation? If she tried, would he understand? Blair reached for the wine and refilled her cup. Keeping her hands from shaking through sheer will power, she once more drained her cup. Acidic or not, it had a marvelous effect. She couldn’t feel her foot; she could ignore the tension that radiated from him. She could draw upon a false courage.

“You’re a yes man, Taylor,” she said with brash disdain. “You’re a fool and I hate watching it. You’re made of all the right stuff, but you’re sending it in all the wrong directions.” She paused for a second, realizing that her head was starting to reel but not caring as his hazel gaze narrowed to that sharp, piercing yellow that signified she had wandered into dangerous ground. She was adding fuel to a combustible furnace. “You are nothing more than a lackey. You have no mind of your own. If you’re not after money, you’re a terrorist, but you’re not even the brains of the action. They found a prime subject with you, Taylor. You’re just yes all the way, even if you disagree. You’re sorry, you don’t want to hit me, but they told you to get me away and so you did it. Yes, I’ll keep a captive. Yes, yes, yes. Damn it, Taylor, you idiot, what you’re doing is wrong! Can’t you manage to think on your own? Christ, you obviously have brains somewhere, but evidently you sit on them!”

She had done it; she had ignited the spark. Suddenly their meals were forgotten and he was on his feet, dragging her up with a merciless grasp on both her upper arms. His facial muscles were stretched taut with a terrible tension.

“Watch it, Mrs. Teile,” he hissed furiously. “I may be a yes man, but I’ve been given a free rein to deal with you, and right now, I can easily come up with a few ways to still that tongue of yours. I’ve done my best to be decent to you,
princess,”
he intoned contemptuously, “but you’re pushing me too far.”

A challenge rose to Blair’s lips; she didn’t believe he would dare do her physical damage. But she wisely swallowed her retort as she saw the implacable menace behind the gleaming narrowed eyes. She pressed her lips tightly together, torn between tears and anger because she didn’t have the power to move or influence him. Swallowing convulsively, she stated, “I just hate to see it, Taylor.”

“Hate to see what?” he charged, his fingers clamping even tighter into her flesh. “You have no idea of what I say yes to! I follow orders as you’ve ascertained, but I do so because I believe in what I’m doing. I believe in the men who issue the orders. If you granted me a single iota of trust, none of this would be necessary.”

“I can’t pretend I’m out for a leisurely sail—”

“You are out for a sail!”

“And I’m supposed to say it’s all just fine,” Blair continued derisively, “I can trust Taylor?”

He said nothing, his eyes glowing yellow fire.

Blair laughed. She had to keep laughing; she had to remain at a distance. She was too close to tears. They were alone in a private world out here, the sky above them, the water around them. Just them. And he was demanding so much of her… and she was beginning to feel it would not be as hard as she first thought to give.

“You have to be insane, Taylor,” she snapped. “Totally insane. You’re working for some lunatic and holding me a prisoner in a tub on some dead-zone river and saying ‘trust me.’ Yet you won’t explain a thing. Where am I, Taylor? Why don’t you tell me that for a start?”

“Where are you?” he exploded. “You’re safe, you’re with me.”

Blair issued a bitter laugh and spoke without thinking. “A king cobra wouldn’t be safe with you—”

“Why?” he cross-charged instantly, his steam billowing rather than decreasing. If she had slipped into a tangent, she had really pushed the button for him to continue it. There was no hiding from him here, and absolutely no thought that she had any control. He was determined in his relentless fashion of pursuit to drag everything out that was between them. She could read it in his searing, demanding, incredible eyes.

And Blair was left suddenly realizing that she was no match for him. It was like setting a cocker spaniel against a pit bull terrier ….

“Why?” he thundered again, shaking her. “Why can’t you trust me? Have I ever harmed you? Don’t tell me that I struck you, or that I dragged you on this boat! Answer that honestly. Have I ever harmed you? And answer this too while you’re at it. Have I ever taken anything you weren’t fully willing to give?”

Blair’s head was spinning. Whereas the wine had once given her courage, it was now misting her mind. Held against him in his forceful grip, she felt overwhelmed by weakness. He was waiting for her answers; he would demand and demand and demand until she said something.

“Yes!” she screamed. “You have harmed me terribly. You are holding me against my will; you kidnapped me. But that wasn’t bad enough—”

“Now we’re at the crux of the matter,” Craig declared coldly. “Go on, Mrs. Teile. I’m breathless to hear the rest of this.”

“There is no rest,” Blair denied too late.

“Oh, there is a rest, and if you’re suddenly finding that the cat’s got your rapier tongue, I’ll finish for you. You’re hating me because you did trust me. Because you came to me. And you opened yourself up to me. And now you think I’ve betrayed your trust, but you’re wrong. And let’s bear in mind—you came to my tent, I didn’t drag you out of yours. And let’s also be honest here. You asked for something; I merely gave in to you.”

“You really are loathsome!” Blair raged furiously, interrupting him. More than at any time before in her life, she wanted to strike out and hurt, to cause a pain as violent as the one that lay inside her. A pain more gripping than most because it was caused by truth. But there was no question of her striking out, not even a slim chance that she could move. She couldn’t even flex the muscles that his fingers clamped down upon; they were, in fact, growing numb.