One Night with a Scoundrel

by Shelly Thacker

  But it was equally unlikely that she was telling him the truth.

  And the tiger wasn’t talking. The beast rolled over and stretched out on the sand, panting in the sultry heat.

  Saxon slid his gaze back to Ashiana, noticing that her pale skin bore shades of pink, especially the delicate upper curves of her breasts. “You should stay out of the sun.”

  He cursed himself silently as soon as he said it. What did it matter to him if she fried?

  And as soon as he had glanced at the swell of her breasts, bound by the corset, his eyes took in a dozen other details: the pounding of her pulse at her throat, the wisps of silky hair curling damply around her neck, the edging of lace on the corset that just hid her nipples…and lower, the damaged petticoat that offered a glimpse of one slender, creamy thigh.

  His body responded so swiftly it nearly wrenched a groan from his dry throat. He managed to get himself under control and return his gaze to hers.

  Her smile had fled and her cheeks had flushed with color that did not come from the sun. “I-I have not. B-been in the sun, I mean.” She gestured toward the center of the island. “I built a shelter up—”

  “I know where it is.”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. He didn’t bother to explain his comment. He saw by her surprised expression and the deepened color in her cheeks that she knew it had been him, that night in the shadows.

  He didn’t know why he had tracked her to her shelter, why he had thought it important to check on her, to make sure she was safe.

  Why he had lingered, long after she had settled back to sleep.

  He couldn’t answer any of the whys that ricocheted through his head.

  She glanced down at the sand, then back up, and after an uncomfortable moment, she held out the pineapple, her voice a whisper. “I made this for you.”

  Still the consummate actress. Whoever she was working for, they had chosen their spy well.

  That cynical, bitter thought blinded him for a second. But he knew her game now. The advantage was his. He could turn the tables on her.

  All he needed to do was play along.

  He forced a smile. “What is it?”

  Looking relieved, she took a step closer. “It is made of fruit juice and coconut milk. I think you will like it.”

  As she held it out, another image hit him. Paradise. This was like paradise and she was like Eve with the fated apple. Offering him sin cloaked in sweetness.

  It might even be poisoned. Would she kill him, after everything that had happened between them?

  He reached out so fast he startled her. He grabbed the pineapple, tilted his head back, and drained the contents in one long draught.

  It tasted cool and sweet, soothing on his painful throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and passed the emptied pineapple back to her. “Thank you.”

  She seemed pleased. “I made this, too.” She indicated the seashell full of brown paste. “For your burns. They don’t seem to be healing well.”

  Saxon subdued an oath. But the closer he got to her, the easier it would be to discover where she had hidden the sapphires.

  He turned his blistered palms up and she gasped. “Please, you must let me help you.”

  Help me, he thought bitterly. He buried the sarcasm beneath a pleasant facade and gave her a nod. “Very well.”

  Walking to the edge of the forest with her at his heels, he sat in the shade beneath a tree. “Go ahead.”

  She settled herself in front of him, cross-legged, then set the empty pineapple aside and placed the seashell in the sand next to her. The tiger prowled over to them and lay in the shade a few yards away, flicking its tail.

  She took his hand gently in both of hers.

  Saxon tried to shut down all feeling inside him…but the warmth of her touch, the softness of her skin, and the nearness of her body all gave him pleasure he did not want. He kept his face a mask of indifference.

  At the first touch of her fingers coated with the cool, wet salve, he flinched.

  Her gaze flew to his. “Maf kijiye, I am sorry. Am I hurting you?”

  “No,” he ground out.

  “I do not mean to. I am sorry.”

  She sounded so blasted sincere. He had to bite down hard to stop a sarcastic retort.

  Working carefully, delicately, she spread the salve over one wounded hand, then the other. She bent her head and her hair wafted down from her shoulder to tease his bare feet. He tensed. She didn’t seem to notice.

  Nor did she notice that her position gave him a full view of her breasts, dangerously close to spilling over the edge of their lacy wrappings.

  He shut his eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing, he reminded himself. She was merely playing the role she had perfected aboard his ship.

  But knowing her for a spy didn’t cool his desire for her.

  Having her this close, barely clothed, touching him—it all stirred unwanted memories of their time together in his cabin. The sweet taste of her in his mouth. Her body arching beneath his. Her arms holding him as if she would never let go. Her tight, wet sheath caressing his shaft. The husky sound of her cries of pleasure.

  His body responded so swiftly to the memories, he had to grit his teeth to hold back a groan. Staring down at her silky dark head, bent over him, he couldn’t believe she didn’t notice the effect she was having on him.

  Taking a deep breath, he looked upward, focusing on the cool green leaves laced overhead. He was not going to be drawn in by her schemes this time. He would not let her use her beauty and her body to distract him from who and what she was.

  “There,” she pronounced, straightening. She placed his hands, palms up, on his knees. “Try not to touch anything for an hour or so.”

  She moved to his side, apparently missing the scorching reply in his eyes: if he touched anything, she would be the first to know.

  She tended his arms, shoulders, and back, humming softly as she worked. Every whisk of her fingers over his skin was torture. He much preferred the physical pain of his injuries.

  When she had finished with the burns, she came around to sit facing him again, her expression earnest. “Is that better?”

  “Yes,” he lied. His wounds hurt less, but he most definitely did not feel better.

  She dipped a finger in the salve and nodded toward his stomach. “This worked very well on the cuts on my feet. May I…?”

  Saxon worked very hard to remain still and keep his breathing even. “Yes.”

  The first touch of her fingertips, cool and wet and so close to that part of him that was already throbbing, nearly proved his undoing. The fact that he knew she must be doing it on purpose only made him more determined not to be lured into her seductive trap.

  He kept his gaze fixed on a point at sea above her head—and tried not to think of tearing off his breeches, tossing her down into the sand, and taking her right here and now.

  He could not banish the image quickly enough. In a heartbeat, his arousal was pressing hard against the front of his breeches.

  Ashiana’s fingers suddenly trembled. She went still.

  He looked down just as she looked up. Both froze. Only inches separated their mouths.

  Her wide blue eyes glistened with an expression of surprise…and desire. He could smell the warm, clean scent of her hair. Her lips parted, so near to touching his that if he just…

  She jerked back so quickly that she almost fell over. “I-I will leave this here for you to use later. I think you should get some rest.” She dropped the shell, her entire body flushed, her breathing fast and shallow.

  Before he could say anything, she stood up and stepped away. “I am…feeling dizzy. I think it would be best if I got out of the sun. As you said.”

  He didn’t have the chance to point out that they had been sitting in the shade. She fled so fast that she left both her pineapple and her tiger behind. Nicobar rose and stretched and trotted after her.

  “Damn.” Saxon scowled in the direc
tion she had disappeared. He didn’t understand the woman at all. One minute she played the seductress; the next, she ran from him as if she hadn’t realized, until that moment, the potent effect her lightest touch had on him.

  Perhaps she was baiting him, purposely trying to encourage him to pursue.

  Well, he was ready and willing to comply.

  He finished applying the salve to the rest of the cuts on his belly and legs. If there was one thing he had in abundance at the moment, it was time. Time to watch her carefully, time to follow her every movement…time to discover where she might have hidden the jewels.

  Standing, he picked up the seashell and the empty pineapple. He headed down the path she had taken, toward her little shelter.

  Men, Ashiana had decided four days later, were unfathomable creatures put on earth by the gods for the sole purpose of driving women mad.

  A steady rain had been falling all day, and after less than a minute outside the shelter, her hair and clothes were soaked. It was worth a drenching, though, just to have some time alone. Saxon had disappeared into the forest an hour ago with a stern command that she not leave her—their, she corrected herself with a frown—encampment.

  She plucked another ripe red fruit from a bush and added it to the newly woven basket balanced on her hip. She had only gone a short distance from the clearing, and besides, she didn’t care if he was angry. They were no longer on his ship, and she was tired of following orders.

  She supposed she should be pleased by his concern for her safety, but she was not.

  Truly, she could not understand him in the least. For the first few days on the island, he had avoided her completely. Now he would not let her out of his sight for a moment. He accompanied her everywhere.

  At night, though he refused to share her shelter, he slept beside the fire and watched her until she fell asleep. Whenever she awakened, he was there, on guard.

  “I do not need a guard,” she had protested after two days of this. “How do you think I managed on my own before?”

  “Quite well,” he had replied, eating one of her steamed crabs. “But I want to make up for my earlier behavior.”

  Ashiana pricked her thumb on a thorn and winced, popping it in her mouth. Make up for his behavior, indeed. It was all most strange. He tended the fire and gathered food, complimented her meals, and let her see to his wounds, which were healing well. Twice a day, they would walk along the shore, all the way around the island, banking or lighting his signal fires, and looking for ships on the horizon.

  He talked with her, smiled now and then when she made a joke, and expressed concern for her safety.

  Not once had he made any physical advances. On the contrary, he flinched away every time they came close to touching.

  Something wasn’t right and it was making her more nervous every day. She didn’t know what to call it, but he seemed…different. He wasn’t as surly as he had been, but neither was he the tender, caring man he had been aboard the Valor.

  The man she missed.

  She hadn’t realized how much, until these past few days.

  Ashiana lifted her chin and let the rain wash over her face, wishing it could wash away these feelings. The longing. The loneliness.

  The other morning on the beach when she had tended Saxon’s injuries, she had wanted so badly to kiss him, to have him take her in his arms…to be with him, in every way.

  Blushing at the memory, she lowered her head with an unhappy sigh. She could not allow herself to think such thoughts. To give in to her heart.

  Sooner or later they would be rescued. She felt confident of that now. They would return to the mainland, and from there she would go back to the maharaja. Back to Rao.

  Back to where she belonged. With her clan. Her people. Her betrothed.

  She no longer viewed Saxon as the enemy, yet she knew she could not allow herself to wish for…for…

  He was an Englishman. She was an Ajmir princess. Those two simple facts made anything more than a brief, secret truce impossible. They would help one another survive, that was all.

  She should be grateful that he no longer desired her.

  Ashiana went back to picking fruit, letting the warm, steady rain soothe her. Their new, chaste relationship made it easier to live with her conscience. She already had enough explaining to do when she returned home. There would be uncomfortable questions to answer about certain things she had done during her mission.

  Such as falling in love with the man she had been sent to kill.

  Would Rao break their betrothal, after she confessed what she had shared with Saxon?

  She pricked her finger on another thorn and muttered an English curse she had heard Saxon use, barely realizing she had said it.

  “Not at all suitable language for a lady.”

  Ashiana turned, startled. Saxon was only a few feet away and she had never heard him approach. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “What are you doing this far from the shelter? In the pouring rain, I might add.”

  “Gathering fruit.” She noticed with annoyance that he had sidestepped her question with a question. He did that often of late. “Where did you go—”

  “We should get back.” He walked over and took the basket from her hands. “This rain is becoming an official monsoon.”

  Ashiana had to admit he was right. Already, the downpour had gathered strength until it was almost painful on bare skin. Saxon moved through the trees without giving her a chance to question him further.

  As usual. Frowning, Ashiana started after him.

  By the time she had followed him back to their encampment, the rain was falling so fast and hard it was difficult to stand up. Hunched over against the downpour, she ran for the shelter.

  He held open the woven mat that served as a door, then handed her the basket of fruit after she had ducked inside. Then he let the mat fall shut.

  Ashiana stared at the closed entrance, dumbfounded, then pushed it open and poked her head out in the rain. “You cannot stay outside in a monsoon! You will drown. Or at the very least, take ill.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Ashiana had had enough of his annoying attitude. “If you are staying out here, so will I.” She stepped out and faced him mutinously.

  He glowered at her. “Stop being foolish.”

  “I have every right to be as foolish as you.” She folded her arms.

  His gaze dipped to her breasts and Ashiana felt a shaft of heat flash through her, suddenly aware that her wet, thin garments had molded transparently to her body. Perhaps her insistence was not so wise after all.

  She ducked back into the shelter.

  He followed her inside.

  Ashiana tried to feel pleased that she had won the argument, instead of nervous. There was just enough room for the two of them sitting down. And Nicobar, of course, though he took up more than his share of space.

  “What the devil is he doing in here?” Saxon demanded.

  Ashiana laid a protective hand on Nico’s broad, furry head. “I can’t make him stay outside in a monsoon.”

  “I thought you said tigers liked water.”

  “If he goes, so will I.”

  “Fine. We’ll all stay inside. One big happy family.”

  He muttered something in English that Ashiana couldn’t understand, tying the mat in place over the opening.

  The rain thundered down on the enclosure, but the tightly woven padauk mats held. It seemed the three of them would stay reasonably dry. Ashiana toweled herself off with soft leaves from a pile she had collected. She offered a handful to Saxon.

  He looked at them dubiously. “You think of everything.”

  “I am only thinking of your comfort.”

  “You’re very good at that.”

  It didn’t sound like a compliment. Ashiana was weary of trying to figure out the hidden layers of meaning that seemed to lace his every sentence. She tossed the leaves to him. “You should at least clean off your han
ds. Your wounds are not healed yet.” In the waning daylight, she looked with concern at the dirt caked on his fingers. “Have you been…digging again?”

  He picked up the leaves and dried his hands and arms, not looking at her. “Something like that.”

  He must have been burying another member of his crew. Strange, Ashiana didn’t remember seeing any…anyone during their morning walk on the beach. Perhaps he had noticed the body and avoided drawing her attention to it, not wanting to distress her.

  In any event, he didn’t seem inclined to explain further.

  He tossed the crumpled leaves outside. The two of them sat in silence, listening to the increasingly forceful monsoon. They had already eaten their evening meal, and they could not take their usual walk, so there was nothing to do.

  Nothing.

  Saxon slouched lower against the woven side of the shelter. Ashiana scratched the bridge of Nicobar’s nose and wished, for once, that her tiger were a bit smaller. He took up so much of the floor that only inches lay between her and Saxon.

  The air felt too hot, the moisture from the rain misting like steam, clinging to her skin.

  “Would you like to teach me some more English?” she suggested lightly.

  “No.”

  “I only thought that it might make—”

  “I said no.”

  Ashiana stopped trying. Turning her back on him, she snuggled down into Nicobar’s warm, dry fur. Closing her eyes, she listened to the rain pattering on the mats. The steady, rhythmic sound slowly lulled her to sleep.

  She awakened some time later when Nicobar moved and her head hit the sandy floor with a thump. She must have been asleep a long while, because the shelter was now so dark, she could not see a hairsbreadth in front of her.

  Nico, making small noises, bumped his head against the mat laced over the opening of the shelter.

  “Just a moment, Nico,” Ashiana whispered, unlacing it to let him out. He slunk into the rain, then sauntered off through the trees. The monsoon still hammered down, making dents in the sandy forest floor. It would be impossible to keep a fire burning tonight to warn predators away, but Nico should be enough. She hoped. Total darkness enveloped the clearing. She let the flap fall back and tied it into place.