His heart pounding, he leaped onto the trunk of the tree and tightrope-walked the length of it, jumping down when he reached the opposite side. He raced along the edge of the stream, batting the clawing vegetation from his face, until he reached the spot where the boulder protruded from the bank.
“Oh, God,” he groaned when he saw Isabelle’s limp body, stretched out on the jagged length of stone below. Pressing a boot against the boulder, he tested it to make sure it would support his weight before he lowered himself down. He dropped to a knee at her side and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Isabelle?” he whispered, his voice breaking. He carefully rolled her over and swept back the wet clumps of hair that clung to her face. “Isabelle,” he said more insistently, then sat beside her and picked her up, easing her across his lap. Choking on a sob, he hugged her to his chest and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Oh, God, Isabelle,” he cried, gently rocking her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should never have left you alone.”
Riddled by fear, by guilt, he lifted his head to look down at her, and smoothed her hair away from her face. He saw the lump on her left temple, the blue tinge to her lips, and quickly stripped off his shirt, fearing a concussion and recognizing the signs of shock. Once he had it wrapped around her, he drew her to him again and pressed his cheek against hers, while rubbing his hand up and down her back, trying to warm her chilled skin.
He held her for what seemed like hours before he felt her stir in his arms. His heart hammering against his ribs, he lifted his head and watched, holding his breath, as she blinked open her eyes. Her gaze met his and a frown pleated the skin between her eyes.
“Link?” she whispered weakly, then closed her eyes again.
“No,” he ordered sternly, and caught her chin in his hand. “Don’t close your eyes, Isabelle. Look at me.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, her lids slowly opened. He held her gaze with his.
“My head,” she murmured weakly, and lifted her hand.
He caught her wrist before she could touch the swollen skin and drew her hand into his, squeezing it. “It’s just a little bump,” he said, silently praying that’s all it was. “You must have hit your head when you fell into the stream.”
She closed her eyes again and groaned, remembering. “I wanted to cross to the other side. On the tree trunk,” she said, and wet her lips. “Stooped to take off my sandals.” Her forehead furrowed in a frown again. “Something hit me,” she said, and stretched a hand across her chest to knead at a bruise he saw already coloring her shoulder. She wet her lips again, then opened her eyes to meet his. “Something hit me,” she whispered.
Link saw the question in her eyes, as well as the fear. “Probably just a limb,” he answered her. “When you bent over, a limb being washed down by the stream probably struck you, knocking you over, then you hit your head on a rock as the current carried you farther downstream.”
Her eyes drifted closed again and the creases on her forehead smoothed. “Yes,” she whispered hoarsely, sounding relieved. “That’s probably what happened.”
Link swallowed hard, then glanced back across the stream, knowing that somehow he had to get her back to the cabin. “I’m going to carry you,” he said, then dropped his gaze to look at her again. “It’s going to be slow-going. If I jar you too much, or if I should hurt you in any way, just tell me.”
She opened her eyes to meet his. “I’m sorry,” she murmured tearfully with regret. “I should have stayed in the cabin.”
“We’ll worry about apologies later,” he said gruffly, figuring he had a few of his own to offer.
Kneeling beside the old footed tub, Link dipped his fingers into the bathwater, testing the temperature, then glanced over at Isabelle. She sat on the toilet seat where he’d placed her, shivering, looking very much like a drowned rat. Her dress clung to her wet skin and her hair hung in soggy clumps over shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He shifted and placed a knuckle beneath her chin to lift her face to his. A streak of mud grazed one cheek and was smeared across her forehead. “Think you can manage a bath?” he asked softly.
Her shoulders rose and fell in a weary sigh. “I think so,” she murmured.
He stood and took her hand, supporting her as she rose shakily to her feet. “You’ll feel better once you’re warm and dry,” he told her.
“Promise?” she asked doubtfully as she strained to reach over her shoulder for the dress’s zipper.
He shook his head, smiling softly at her weakness, and turned her around. “Yeah, I promise.” He caught the zipper tab and pulled it down, his smile melting as the dress’s thin straps slid over her shoulders and down her arms. She grabbed the front of the garment and clutched it between her breasts…but her back remained exposed to his gaze.
Unable to look away from the creamy, pebbled flesh, he gulped, swallowed, then followed the bumpy line of her spine to the spot where her waist curved in enticingly before swelling out to form her hips. Suddenly feeling weak-kneed himself, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“Link?”
He opened his eyes, tried not to look, but was helpless to do anything else, since the bathroom was small and she stood directly in front of him. He had to clear his throat before he could respond. “Yes?”
“I…feel…faint.”
He immediately grabbed her elbows and guided her back down to the toilet seat, then dropped down in front of her and forced her head between her knees. “Take slow, deep breaths,” he ordered.
She did as instructed, taking three long breaths before daring to raise her head again. Moaning weakly, she let her head fall back to rest against the wall.
Link’s gaze froze on the fistful of fabric she clutched between her breasts, the twin mounds of flesh that swelled around it. It was all he could do to keep from burying his face there.
Knowing how dangerous those thoughts were, he pushed to his feet. “Can you handle things from here?”
She blinked open her eyes, slowly bringing him into focus. “I think so.” Holding the dress against her breasts, she stood, and Link shifted in the small space to give her room. But when her knees buckled again, he grabbed her, catching her before she sank to the floor.
“Maybe I better help you,” he suggested uneasily.
Nodding, she turned her back to him and released her hold on the dress. Link’s hands tightened on her waist as the dress dropped to pool between their feet. Unsure how best to handle the situation, he nudged her toward the edge of the tub.
“My panties,” she murmured, and shoved ineffectively at the strip of silk that barely covered her bottom.
Biting back a groan, Link caught the waist of her panties and stripped them quickly down her legs. She stepped out of them as he rose to stand behind her again.
Taking her elbows again, he gave her another nudge. “In you go,” he said gruffly, then held on to her while she lifted first one leg, then the other over the edge of the tub. She sank weakly into the water and leaned back, closing her eyes as she let her head rest against the tub’s sloped back.
“Think you’ll be okay now?” he asked as he watched water lap between her breasts.
“Y-yes. Thank you.”
Link stood a moment longer, staring at her nude form visible beneath the clear water, then tore his gaze away and headed for the door. “I’ll just be outside the door. Holler if you need me.”
“’Kay,” she murmured, and slid lower in the tub.
Link glanced back over his shoulder one last time. He bit back a moan as he imagined himself crawling into the tub with her. It took all the strength he could muster to step through the doorway and close the door behind him.
Four
If medals for valor were ever handed out for guarding a witness, Link figured he’d earned his that night. Anybody who could undress a woman with a body as delectable as Isabelle’s, help her into a tub, then dress her in a sexy nightie and tuck her into bed without crawling in beside her and takin
g advantage of the situation, deserved one. No, they deserved a chest full of medals, he told himself, and flopped to his back on the narrow sofa with a frustrated moan.
He tossed an arm over his eyes and willed the tension from his body, one area at a time…although one remained stubbornly taut.
Damn but she was beautiful, he reflected miserably, then stifled a groan as visions of her nude body filled his mind. Even after a dunking in a cold mountain stream, she had to be the sexiest, most desirable woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Those sweet breasts, small but ripe, their dark, rosy centers puckered and tipped high, just begging for a man’s lips.
He rubbed the tips of his fingers together, thoughtfully, almost mournfully. They still carried the feel of her flesh. Soft as satin, sleek and firm as it dipped and rose to form curves sexy enough to test any man’s control. Long, slender legs. Delicately small, feminine feet. Toenails painted the palest of pinks.
He sighed and dragged his arm from his eyes to stare miserably at the dark ceiling. Damn! Why couldn’t she be poor, ugly, at least ten years older and just as jaded as he? Maybe then he wouldn’t feel this obligation to keep his hands off her.
“Link?”
He whipped his head to the side at the sound of her voice. “Isabelle?” he said as he squinted against the darkness. He pushed himself to an elbow while he watched her form take shape as she drifted from the shadows and closer to the sofa. “Are you all right?” he asked in concern.
She stepped into the shaft of moonlight that speared through the window above the sofa and he felt that one last remaining bit of tension he hadn’t been able to ease grow stiffer. It had been difficult enough to help her into the skimpy nightgown. But seeing her in it now made him want to rip it off her again.
“I can’t sleep,” she said softly, and took a tentative step closer.
He sat up slowly, gathering the sheet around his waist as he stared up at her. “Is your head hurting?”
“No.”
She sank down on the edge of the sofa next to him, and her scent floated across the space between them to tease at his nose, his senses, his willpower. That flowery, sexy scent that he’d learned to associate with her.
He shifted away, putting a little distance between them. “Is there something you need? Something that I can get for you?”
She dipped her head to stare at the hands she’d folded on her lap. “No. I just—” She glanced over at him, and his heart stopped for a minute at the earnestness of her expression, the unmistakable heat in her eyes.
“This morning,” she began, then stopped abruptly. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze again.
“If you’re angry about me leaving you here alone,” he said, “I’m sorry. But it was best. If I’d taken you with me—”
She shook her head, silencing him, and he frowned as he watched her pluck nervously at the fabric stretched across her knees.
“No. It’s not that,” she murmured. “I understand why you couldn’t take me with you. But I—” She hesitated a moment, then turned her head slightly to look at him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t obey you. That I left the cabin. That I fell into the stream and you had to carry me back to the cabin.”
He stared at her, unable to take his eyes off her face. She was beautiful. Desirable. And the flush of shame in her cheeks, the shy way she peered at him, only made her more so.
He tore his gaze from hers and cleared his throat. “No harm done,” he said gruffly. “No apology needed.”
She reached to lay a hand against his arm. “Oh, but there is!”
He glanced down at the hand on his arm, frowning at the contrasts in their skin. Hers porcelain smooth. Dainty. His dark and hairy. Rough.
She drew her hand back and twisted it with her other on her lap. “But I didn’t leave to defy you,” she said quietly. “I did it because…well, to prove something to myself.” She inhaled deeply, then turned to look at him, moonlight revealing only half of her face. The other half remained in shadows. But he could see the earnestness in her expression, the determination to make him understand.
“I was frightened,” he heard her say, and made himself focus on what she was telling him. “Ever since the kidnapping, I’ve—well, I’ve always been frightened of being alone. I had locked the door and all the windows after you left, and the cabin was stifling. I became angry with myself and my weakness, and I wanted to prove to myself that there was nothing to be afraid of.”
She turned her gaze from his to stare at the far wall. “I went outside, and I saw a doe.”
He saw the soft smile that curved at her lips, the wonder that lit her eyes, and had to keep his hands gripped around the edge of the cushion to keep from reaching out and touching her.
“She looked so startled, yet so beautiful. So free. I guess I frightened her, because she turned and plunged into the forest. Without thinking, I followed her. It was peaceful in the forest, so quiet. I didn’t realize how far I’d walked until I reached the stream. I knew I should go back, but when I saw the tree trunk that stretched across the stream, I couldn’t resist crossing it.”
She dipped her head, twisting her hands in her lap again, and her hair fell over her shoulder to curtain her face. Link reached out and brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. He felt the jolt of awareness that shot through her, the kick of her pulse at his touch.
She turned, and he kept his hand there, cupped behind her ear. He watched her tongue slip between her lips, slick over them…and swallowed a groan, imagining that tongue tangling with his.
“Link?” she whispered. “Would you—”
“What?”
She dropped her gaze again. “I…that is…well, this morning, when we were in bed together…”
He swallowed hard, remembering, wondering where she was going with this. “Yeah?” he asked uneasily. “What about it?”
She glanced over at him again and he saw the flush that stained her cheeks, the heat that turned her eyes to smoke.
“I—liked kissing you.” She shook her head in frustration, then firmed her lips. “No,” she said more purposefully. “I loved kissing you.”
Link was struck dumb, unsure what to say in response.
“And I’d like to kiss you again.”
He stared at her, at the bright spots of color high on her cheeks, felt the nervous tremble of her body, and let out a slow, uneasy breath. “Isabelle,” he said carefully, and dropped his hand from behind her ear. “That was a mistake. You caught me off guard.” He curled his fingers around the edge of the cushion between them and dug his fingers into it, determined not to touch her again. “If I’d been fully awake, I would never have taken advantage of you in that way.”
“Oh, but you didn’t,” she insisted, and dropped her hand to cover his. “It was I who took advantage of you.”
The feel of her hand on his, the warmth, the quiver in it, did nothing to strengthen his resolve to keep his own hands off her. “Just the same,” he muttered and tugged his hand from beneath hers. “I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Is it because you find me unattractive? Unappealing?”
He stared at her, unable to believe that she’d think such a thing, then barked a laugh. “Hell, no!”
“Then why don’t you want to kiss me again?”
He puffed his cheeks, blowing out a long breath as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and the sudden tension there. “Isabelle. I’m thirteen years older than you.”
She cocked her head and frowned at him in puzzlement. “So?”
Frustrated that she wouldn’t accept that answer as reason enough and leave him the hell alone, he rose, yanking the sheet around his waist to cover his nudity. “We’re from different worlds,” he told her, striding away. “I wouldn’t know how to treat a woman as gentle and refined as you.”
“I won’t break.”
At the resentment in her tone, he turned to peer at her in surprise. She rose and took
a step toward him.
“You’re just like my parents and my brothers,” she said, her tone now accusing. “You think I need protecting. That I’m a china doll that will shatter at the slightest provocation.” She stopped with only inches separating them. “Well, I won’t,” she informed him stubbornly. “I’m a woman, the same as any other, with the same needs, the same desires.”
He reached out to grasp her elbows, intending to hold her away from him, to keep her from drawing any closer. He saw the stubborn glint in her eye, the spark of rebellion there, and wondered if he was strong enough to resist it. “I’m sure you are, Isabelle,” he said patiently. “But I’m not the man to—”
His jaw sagged when she reached for the string that dangled between her breasts and gave it a yank, then choked on a startled breath when the panels of silk fell open, exposing the swollen sides of her breasts and the shadowed valley between.
He took a step back, his hands still gripped on her elbows, his fingers digging deep. “Isabelle,” he warned. “No.”
“Yes,” she insisted and shrugged the thin straps from her shoulders. The straps slid down her arms to drop over his hands, exposing her breasts fully.
He stared at the milky-white mounds, the dark centers tipped high as if daring him to touch them. He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No. It’s the lump you took on the head. You’re not thinking clearly.”
She took a step forward, pressing herself against him. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m thinking. I want to make love with you.”
“But—”
She took his hand and pressed it over a breast, held it there as she lifted her face to his. “I’ve never felt like I did when you kissed me, when you touched me,” she told him. “All achy and needy.” She rose to flick her tongue against the bow of his lips, then sighed, her voice dropping to a sultry drawl. “So hot I thought I’d burn right up.”
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