Running Wild

She tried to address her reasoning and her behavior, confused by her own response, when she heard a sound close by. Turning, she peeped out from behind the tree, looking back along the path she had made through the trees. There was nobody in sight. Then she felt a presence directly behind her. The skin on the back of her neck prickled with anxiety, her breath catching in her throat.

When she turned around, he was right there against her.

"Piers!"

He hauled her in against him with a solid arm around her waist. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm here."

"What are you—"

One hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her.

She stared up at him, horror-struck.

He gripped her tighter.

She struggled.

He backed her against the tree trunk, wedging her there with the weight of his body, then reached in to his pocket with his free hand and pulled something out.

Meg struggled to see what it was.

Apparently he wanted her to know, because he lifted his hand and showed her. A set of handcuffs dangled from one finger.

Her stomach knotted. She shook her head at him, horribly confused by his behavior. What the hell was happening here?

"Hush now, Meg. I only want to talk, and this seems like a good way to get you to hear me out, don't you think?" He flashed his eyes at her, and there was humor there.

How dare he? Did he really think this was a joke?

He removed his hand from her mouth.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she demanded.

Before she had a chance to say anything else, he covered her mouth with his own, silencing her with a passionate kiss. Meg stiffened then melted when his familiar heat and urgency claimed her, his tongue moving against hers in a seductive rhythm. A moment later she jerked free when she realized he had used the opportunity to lock her wrists together with the cuffs.

His hand was back over her mouth in a flash, and he actually chuckled.

Damn you! Glaring at him, she lifted her clamped fists and attempted to thump him with them. Meanwhile, he pulled a length of fabric from his pocket. He proceeded to gag her with it. Meg put up a struggle, making it as difficult as possible for him. When he'd got the gag on, he ducked down, lifted her from the ground and doubled her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Surely he couldn't mean to carry her back like this? She struggled against him.

"Take it easy, Madam. This is the express service. We'll have you home in no time."

The cheek of him!

He planted a hand on her arse to keep her in place then began to move with haste, apparently taking her back towards the cabin.

The position he had her in meant her head and arms hung down over his back. Her hair was slipping free of its band, swinging across her field of vision. That suited her fine, because she didn't want to see her own public humiliation. However, her small backpack of supplies—an energy drink, a cheese and pickle sandwich, mobile phone, MP3 player, antiseptic wash and a sticking plaster—had slumped down against the back of her neck, which only seemed to aid his effort to keep her hampered and muffled. Her legs were tightly locked against his chest by one of his arms. The other hand stayed on her bottom.

What if someone saw them? She'd die of embarrassment. Most if not all of the cabin folk had headed off for the day, but the caretaker made his rounds when it was quiet, making sure the grounds were tidy.

That hand on her bottom infuriated her even more, because he'd planted it so deliberately, near her pussy, making contact with her most sensitive places through the fabric of her close fitted hiking pants. While her helpless body jolted in his grasp, that intrusive hand of his made her burn between her thighs, the rub, rub, rub against her hot spots was far too stimulating.

Humiliation flooded her, and she closed her eyes, willing herself not to be aroused by this. But she couldn't help it, because being bound and captured by him made her hot, she couldn't deny it. One thing was for sure—she couldn't let him know that his Neanderthal behavior was affecting her that way. That would no doubt amuse him even more.

Her thoughts jolted into a higher level, briefly, the things she planned to say to him flashing through her mind. Reconciliation? This had put the last nail in the coffin. There was no chance of a reunion, not now. It was unbelievable, the way he was behaving. The long drive had obviously played tricks with his mind. He'd lost all sense of reason.

She gritted her teeth, resting uneasily over his shoulder.

Thankfully he covered the ground quickly, carrying her with ease. He'd always been able to lift her and carry her to their bed, which she'd loved, but this was different. Even though discomfort coursed through her shoulders and back, it was offset by that hand of his—that intimate contact on her bottom that set loose an entirely different sensation, arousal. The fact that she was so utterly helpless and vulnerable made the erotic thrill multiply inside her. It shouldn't, she knew it shouldn't. But it did.