Honor Bound(3)

"If you know they'll catch you, why make it harder on yourself?" She asked out of a sincere curiosity to know. "Why not just turn yourself in?"

"Because there is something I have to do first," he said grimly. "Before it's too late."

She didn't pursue her question further, because she thought it might jeopardize her well-being to know what criminal acts he was contemplating. However, if she could get him to talk, maybe he would relax his guard and she could make a dash for the back door. Then once in the garage, she would hit the button that raised the automatic door and…

"How did you get in?" she asked abruptly, realizing for the first time that there had been no visible signs of forced entry.

"Through a bedroom window."

"And how did you escape from the prison camp?"

"I deceived someone who trusted me." His hard mouth curled derisively. "Of course he was a fool to trust an Indian. Everybody knows Indians are untrustworthy. Right, Miss Andrews?"

"I don't know any Indians," she answered softly, not wanting to provoke him. She disliked the way his taut body seemed about to snap with tension.

But by trying not to aggravate him, she only seemed to have aroused his temper. His eyes poured over her slowly, spilling heat on everything they touched. She was made painfully aware of her blondness, her blue eyes and fair skin. His sneer deepened into a scowl. "No, I don't suppose you do." Faster than her eyes could monitor the motion, he crammed the knife into his waistband and reached for her. "Get up."

"Why?" She gasped with fright as he roughly pulled her to her feet. Holding her back against his chest, with his hands on her shoulders, he propelled her out of the kitchen. On their way through the door, he switched off the light. The hallway was dark. She stumbled ahead of him. He was going toward the bedroom and her mouth went dry with fear. "You got what you came for."

"Not all of it."

"You said you wanted food," she countered frantically, digging her heels into the carpet. "If you leave now, I promise not to call the police."

"Now why don't I believe you, Miss Andrews?" he asked in a voice as smooth as melting ice cream.

"I swear it!" she cried, despising her weakness and the panicked sound of her voice.

"Promises have been made to me before by white men … and white women. I've learned to be skeptical."

"But I had nothing to do with that. I—oh, God, what are you going to do?"

He shoved her into the bedroom. As soon as he had cleared the door, he closed it behind them. "Take a wild guess, Miss Andrews." He spun her around and pinned her between the door and his unyielding body. He closed his hand around her throat just under her chin and bent his head down low over hers. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I … I … don't know."

"You're not one of these sexually repressed ladies who entertain rape fantasies, are you? Hmm?"

"No!" she gasped.

"You've never fantasized about being taken by a savage?"

"Let me go, please."

She turned her head away and he let her, but he didn't release her. If anything, he moved nearer, lewdly pressing himself against her, holding her against the door with his hardness and strength.

Aislinn squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip in fear and humiliation. His long, tapering fingers strummed her throat, moving up and down in an evocative rhythm.

"Well I have been in prison for a long, long time." His fingers slid down her chest. He hooked his index finger on the top button of her blouse, then fiddled with it until it popped open. She whimpered. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath falling warmly on her skin. It struck her cheeks, her nose, her mouth. She inhaled it by necessity, hating the forced intimacy of breathing the air he expelled.

"So if you're real smart," he warned silkily, "you won't give me any ideas."

When she realized what he was telling her, her eyes sprang up to meet his. They clashed, a meeting of wills and a battle of tempers. For a long moment they seemed suspended, taking each other's measure, analyzing the strengths and weaknesses.

Then gradually he pulled back. When his body was no longer making contact with hers, she almost sank to the floor with relief.

"I told you I needed food and rest." There was a strange new quality to his voice now. A gruffness.

"You've rested."

"Sleep, Miss Andrew's. I need sleep."

"You mean … you intend to stay? Here?" she asked, aghast. "For how long?"

"Until I decide to leave," he answered obliquely. He crossed the room and turned on the lamp beside her bed.

"You can't!"

He returned to where she still stood by the door and took her hand. This time he pulled her along behind him.

"You're hardly in a position to argue. Just because I haven't harmed you yet doesn't mean that I won't if I'm desperate enough."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Yes you are." He dragged her into the adjoining bathroom with him and slammed the door. "Or you should be. Look, get this straight," he said through clenched teeth, "I have something to do, and nothing, especially not an Anglo princess like you, is going to stop me from doing it. I knocked a guard unconscious to escape prison and I made it this far on foot; I have nothing to lose but my life, and it ain't worth a damn where I've been. So don't press your luck, lady. You've got me as a houseguest for as long as I want to stay." To punctuate his threat, he yanked the knife out of his waistband.