A Bride for the Taking

The moments ticked away like heartbeats, and then Jake drew the shawl from her head and let it fall to her shoulders.

‘I’ve pushed you hard,’ he said.

Dorian wanted to laugh. What was the point in denying it, when they both knew that it was his arms and his strength that were keeping her on her feet?

‘A little,’ she whispered.

He sighed. ‘I had no choice, kitten. This was the only safe place I could think of to spend the night.’

She looked up, noticing their surroundings for the first time. They were in what seemed to be a rocky bowl. Grey stone slabs rose all around them.

The place looked desolate, but strangely enough it gave her a feeling of comfort—until she remembered.

‘Jake.’ Dorian gave a little shudder. ‘Those men…’

He drew her head to his chest. ‘Don’t think about them.’

How could she not think of them? She would never forget them, not as long as she lived.

‘But—will they come after us?’

‘They’d have trouble finding this spot, I think.’ She felt the rise and fall of his chest and he chuckled softly. ‘Besides, I doubt that they’re much interested in you any more.’

‘They were, though.’ She drew back and looked at him. ‘I knew it!’

‘Uh-huh. So I told them they could have you.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘You did what?’

He laughed at the look on her face. ‘I said you were all theirs—if they really had use for a woman who had no teeth.’

‘No teeth?’ she said in horror. Her fingers went to her mouth.

‘And no nose.’ He smiled modestly. ‘Hell, kitten, I thought that was a nice touch. A woman with no teeth is one thing, but a woman without a nose…’

Dorian swallowed. ‘I—I don’t understand,’ she whispered. ‘No nose? No teeth?’

‘I told them I’d cut your nose off myself.’

‘But—but why would they believe you?’

‘Because that’s still the penalty for adultery among some of the hill tribes.’ He grinned. ‘I said I’d knocked out most of your teeth for disobedience before that, and you really weren’t much of a beauty any more, and that was why I was taking you to the bridal market at Quarem where I could, perhaps, sell you to a blind man—unless they wanted to buy you now and save me the trip.’

‘And—and they didn’t,’ she said shakily.

Jake’s smile turned grim. ‘No. Fortunately for us, they didn’t.’

‘But—but how—you can’t mean things like that still happen?’

He let out a deep sigh. ‘It’s not easy to take a country from the Dark Ages into the future,’ he said. ‘People—and customs—lag behind.’ There was a moment’s silence, and then he stepped back and smiled at her. ‘Now,’ he said briskly, ‘how about supper?’

Dorian sighed. ‘Do we still have some chocolate left?’

He nodded as he eased the sack from his shoulder and dropped it to the ground.

‘Chocolate,’ he said, digging into it. ‘A packet of mints.’ He looked up and grinned. ‘Two boiled potatoes. Two hard-boiled eggs. And a loaf of black bread.’

‘That stuff wasn’t on the plane.’

Jake chuckled. ‘You didn’t really think that high-fashion outfit you’re wearing was a two-Coke job, did you? I traded one can of soda for this feast.’

She smiled as she plopped down beside him. ‘It is a feast,’ she said. ‘I’m starved.’

He handed her a potato. ‘How’s your foot?’

‘My foot? Oh, it’s fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Uh-huh. These shoes did the trick.’

He smiled wryly. ‘The ox carts, you mean?’

Dorian smiled, too, and then she cleared her throat. ‘Jake?’ She hesitated. ‘What—what’s Barovnia like?’

His smiled faded. ‘I thought you knew what it was like. Backward. Barbaric. Primitive.’

Patches of colour rose to her cheeks. ‘I guess I deserve that. But I only got this assignment a couple of hours before I was due at the airport. And, you’ve got to admit, Barovnia’s not a country that’s in the news very much.’

‘You mean, it isn’t a household name.’

‘Well…’ She looked at him, relaxing as she saw his lips twitch in a faint smile. ‘Exactly. I doubt if most people had ever heard of it, until the death of the abdhan.’

‘You’re right.’ He sighed as he picked up an egg and began shelling it. ‘And it’s ironic as hell—I mean, the old man spent his entire life doing his damnedest to keep Barovnia out of the world’s eye, and now…’

Dorian pulled a slice of dark bread from the small round loaf. ‘Did you know him?’ she asked softly.

Jake nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘What was he like?’

He shrugged. ‘Dedicated to his people; a believer in the old ways…I didn’t know him all that well, actually. I hadn’t seen him in years. Not since I was a boy.’

‘And the new abdhan, the one who’s been hurt? Do you know him, too?’

There was a silence before he spoke. When he did, his voice was gruff.

‘Seref and I were playmates when we were kids.’

‘Then you must be very worried about him,’ Dorian said stiffly.

Jake nodded. ‘Yes. Being cut off like this, without any way to find out how he is…’ Suddenly, his eyes turned cool. He gave her a long, steady look, and then a tight smile angled across his mouth. ‘You’re good at this,’ he said softly.

She stared at him. ‘Good at what?’

‘It’s quite a technique, Miss Oliver.’ He gathered together the remnants of their meal, then got to his feet. ‘The sweetly concerned voice, the innocent face—I suppose I should be grat

eful you don’t have a tape recorder tucked into your pocket.’

It took a few seconds to realise what he meant. Once she did, Dorian rose quickly and hurried after him.

‘You’re wrong, Jake,’ she said honestly. ‘I wasn’t even thinking about WorldWeek just now. I was just interested in—’

‘I’m sure it works like a charm most of the time—especially on men.’ His tone was clipped; he was moving quickly, deeper and deeper into the rock-strewn valley, peering into shadowed clefts as he spoke. ‘But I can promise you that it won’t work again.’

‘Jake, please—’ She gasped as he whirled around and caught her by the shoulders.

‘I told you before, Dorian. Don’t push me. And don’t underestimate my intelligence, either.’

‘I wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t. I just…’ She ran her tongue along her lips. She really hadn’t been thinking of the magazine at all while they’d been talking. That, in itself, was troubling; why hadn’t she been taking mental notes for a later article? ‘I wasn’t thinking of WorldWeek,’ she said honestly. ‘I suppose—I was only trying to make sense of things. Try and see it my way, will you? Yesterday, I was in New York, where everything was familiar, and now—now…’

‘Now, you’re in the middle of nowhere with a man who could give you the interview you’re longing for.’

‘Jake, please—’

‘Just how far would you go to get that interview?’

His voice had gone soft, not with promise but with menace. She felt her pulse give a nervous flutter, but she forced herself to meet his gaze head-on.

‘Let go of me,’ she said quietly.

‘Just think of the article you could write. “Innocent girl reporter, raped by Barovnian barbarian…” Or would it really be rape, Dorian?’ His teeth flashed as he gathered her against him; she felt the quick, hard heat of his body against hers. ‘No,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t think it would.’

‘I know what you’re trying to do, Jake.’

He laughed. ‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.’

‘You’re just—you’re just trying to scare me.’ He was succeeding, too, she thought shakily, but she couldn’t afford to let him know that. ‘We both know Jake Prince isn’t the kind of man who’d—’