The Price of Pleasure (Sutherland Brothers 2)

Everything went black.

The air shot from her lungs as a crushing weight pressed down. Her eyes opened in slits to find the big man straddling her.

"Don't move another inch," he said, then frowned. "Ah, hell, girl, your breath will come back--"

It did. She screamed.

He looked so confounded by her shrieks that she thought she could hit him and roll away.

She might as well have hit a rock.

He grabbed her fisted hands and thrust them over her head, pinning her arms down as she bucked beneath him.

"Damn it! I want to help you." He was breathing as heavily as she was as he held her down. "I'm here to rescue you."

She glared at him. "I don't need rescuing, except from the likes of you."

He gaped as though the idea of him as a villain affronted him. It was only then that he moved his gaze from her face to take in their position--him riding her hips and leaning forward over her to keep her hands restrained. Transferring both her wrists to one hand, he lifted the opposite shoulder to stare down at her heaving chest. His breath hissed out of him. He swore and dragged her to her feet, his huge hand clenched around her arm, and peered down at her in an unnerving way.

All sound from her evaporated. She'd never looked up at anyone as large as he. She'd been a fool not to run faster.

His face was tight, as though he struggled to control his anger. "Cover yourself."

She pulled at the collar of her blouse, trying to shimmy back in, but that only seemed to make him angrier.

"Leave it," he commanded. "I have proper clothing for you back on the ship."

Proper clothing?..."I'm not going back to your ship. I don't know who you are."

"I'm Captain Grant Sutherland. I've been sent by your grandfather to return you to England." He paused to gauge her reaction and found her raising her eyebrows at him. "You don't believe me? I know your name is Victoria Dearbourne. I know your parents' names."

"That proves nothing." She added in a nasty voice, "Except that you can read."

"Yes, I've read your journal," he grated, "but that doesn't change the fact that I've been sent here for you."

"Why did you chase me?"

"Because you tossed a snake in bed with me," he snapped.

"No, the first time."

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, looking genuinely perplexed. "I don't know why. You've been missing for nearly a decade, and you were within reach. I didn't want to let you out of my sight."

"If you've read my journal, then you know why I have a hard time believing you."

His brows drew together. "Yes, I do. And I wish I could take the time necessary to explain things to you, but we don't have that luxury. We'll talk on the ship."

His words seemed pulled from him. She got the impression this man didn't have to explain himself or his actions very often. "I have nothing but time."

"If I don't get my ship out of this area before a storm strikes, we'll all need rescuing." He caught her gaze. "Where's Miss Scott?"

"You don't really expect me to tell you that?"

"You'll simply speed up the inevitable. Because if she's on this island, I will find her and get both of you back to England." He pulled her toward his camp again. She allowed it, giving him time to relax his guard. When something scampered across the trail, catching his attention, she lifted the arm he held and brought his hand to her mouth to take a bite.

His hand shot down. "Do not," he said in a menacing voice, "even entertain that idea. I advise you not to anger me more than you already have."

Anger him? She was the grubby one, banged up and bewildered. "Or what?" she dared to ask.

"Or I'll turn you over my knee," he said with an absolute lack of emotion before pressing on.

Dear Lord, he would. She'd bragged that he'd never be able to catch her, yet here he was dragging her along. She needed a plan. Think. They were about to pass the pool.

"Captain? Sir? I've been hurt." She stopped and pointed at her thigh. "I need to clean the cuts on my leg."

His eyes widened. He grasped the back of her knee and lifted her leg so high she had to hop around on her other foot. He bunched up the skirt enough to see the beginnings of the scratch, then higher still. Tori began shaking slightly as though chilled, but she was far from cold. Her skin felt hot and sensitive to the calloused pads of his fingers.

Abruptly he lowered the skirt. "You are cut," he said in a voice different from before. Now his words rumbled from him.

She was indeed. From days ago, not that he could see that from mere moonlight. She could swear he felt guilty. She blinked up at him and said softly, "It really stings. I need some water." When he hesitated, she pressed. "If you're truly my rescuer, this is a good start."

"Of course." He coughed, and then said in a sterner voice, "Tell me which way to go."

"Past the great breadfruit tree, take the path to the left."

Moments later: "There is no path."

"That's not a breadfruit tree."

"Very well, you lead." He propelled her in front of him. "But don't try anything."

She walked on, guided them left until they came upon the pool he'd bathed in before.

He seemed at a loss, but finally he put both her wrists in one of his hands. "I, uh, don't have a cloth to wash the cut."

The giant did feel guilty. Perhaps he wasn't that frightening. "I'm filthy all over. From where you tackled me," she reminded him. "I'm getting in."

"I think not," he snapped. "Now wash the leg."

When she looked down at her hands, he abruptly released her.

Victoria sat at the edge of the water, pulling her skirt up and cupping water to her scratch. Grant swallowed hard. The water, he knew, was chilled and she shivered, sighing out a breath. The sound teased something deep in him and made him grow hard as steel.

He was a gentleman, damn it. But first he was a man, and now in some forsaken jungle, he was alone with a lithe, young beauty garbed in clothing like gauze. "That's enough."

She twined around to frown at him, and her skirt pulled farther up her slightly spread legs. She had long legs, defined, going on forever. A man could get ideas. It had been so long since he'd seen the smooth skin of a woman's thigh....

By dint of will, he turned away. A glance at his hands showed them shaking.

He heard her slip into the water and twisted around. "Get out of the water. Now."

Swimming as though she'd been born to it, she glided out farther.

"I said to get out of the bloody water!" He couldn't remember ever being so angry. So why did he still have an unbearable erection?

"Looks as though you'll have to come get me," she taunted.

Little witch. In seconds, Grant had his boots and shirt yanked off. "Come here." He tensed against the cool water when he waded in. Told himself he wouldn't throttle her. "I said, come here," he grated.

She smirked and waved at him then, fingers to the heel of her hand, the exaggerated way a child waves good-bye. He would throttle her. Slowly. Then she sank below the surface. What the devil?

He swam out to where she'd been. Even with the moon and the clarity of the water, he couldn't spot her. When a minute passed, he dove under, reaching out blindly. Another minute gone. His head began to throb in beat with his thundering heart. Again and again, he sucked in another breath and went down.

He broke the surface once more, was inhaling a gulp of air when he heard, "If you are who you say, then prove it. If you're not here for a rescue, then it's best if you give up early in this game, Captain Sutherland."

Grant jerked his head to the shore. "What," he demanded with a seething calm, "are you doing with my clothes?"

"I," she replied in a tone mimicking his, "am picking them up."

"Drop my bloody clothes."

"With pleasure!"

He barely had an instant to wonder at her words before she'd run away.

"Bloody hell!" He raked the hair from his eyes. "Bloo

dy, bloody hell!"

From somewhere high above him, she said, "Oh, and, Captain, I'm keeping your shirt. And one boot."

He twisted in the direction of her voice, saw her on a cliff jutting out over the pool. Alarm clawed back up his spine, and he began to sweat even in the water. She was up too high. If she lost her footing...