Kitabı oku: «Cheyenne Wife», sayfa 3

Chapter Four

Gray clouds hung over the fort, stretching to the horizon, heavy with the threat of rain. The morning breeze tugged at the loose strands of Lily’s hair as she crossed the plaza.

She stepped inside the trade room, the economic heart of Bent’s Fort, the primary reason for its existence in this vast wilderness. Here, merchandise, goods and services were traded or sold to Indians and trappers, travelers and explorers.

As she hoped, Lily found Hiram Fredericks and Oliver Sykes busy at work among the dry goods, hardware, tools, guns and knives.

The two of them had done so much to help her these past few days, they deserved her thanks and so very much more. That was, however, all that she could offer these two fine gentlemen, in light of her newly discovered financial straits.

“Good morning,” she greeted, and managed a small smile as she cross the room.

Both men looked up from the desk they were huddled around, and smiled in return, looking a little surprised but pleased to see her.

“How’re you doing, Miss St. Claire?” Sykes inquired, giving her an earnest look, setting aside the stack of papers in his hand.

“Well enough,” she said, trying to push her chin up a little and sound brave, “considering the circumstances, of course.”

“Of course,” Fredericks agreed.

“Could I trouble you gentlemen for a little information?” Lily asked, pushing on.

“Sure thing,” Sykes told her and leaned forward just a little.

“How soon before one might expect a wagon train to come up from Santa Fe, through the fort, bound for the East?” Lily asked.

Wagons routinely made the journey east from Santa Fe, loaded with handwoven blankets, buffalo robes, furs and other riches that would be sold in Eastern markets. The trade route worked both ways.

“Oh, we get wagons through here every week or so. Sometimes more often than that.” Sykes glanced at Fredericks for confirmation.

“Yeah, about that often, I’d say,” Fredericks agreed, stroking his chin.

“Fine,” Lily said, a sense of relief coming over her. “I’ll join the next wagon train that passes through heading east.”

She’d thought about it most of the night, tossing and turning on the little cot in her room, then pacing across the floor and staring out the window, until she’d come up with a plan.

While she had no money to pay her way east, she did own a wagon—albeit a damaged wagon—which was surely worth something and could be offered in trade. If that failed, she could provide a service of some sort to the travelers. Take care of young children, perhaps, or act as a schoolmarm on the trip. She could give art instruction, read books or poetry.

If, of course, any sort of payment was required. Surely, the people of the train would appreciate her plight and allow her to travel with them.

Fredericks nodded his understanding. “Seems like leaving is the sensible thing to do. I mean, for a woman like you, that is.”

He’d said it kindly enough, but an insult lurked there just the same. Lily felt its sting, yet couldn’t disagree.

“Would you be kind enough to let me know when the next wagon comes through, so I can be on my way?” she asked the men.

“Sure thing, Miss St. Claire. You can head on back East any time you like,” Fredericks said. His expression hardened. “As soon as you settle your debts here, of course.”

She blinked up at him. “My…debts?”

Fredericks and Sykes nodded in unison.

“Hiram’s got it all writ down, nice and neat,” Sykes said, and wagged his finger toward Fredericks and the desk. “Show her the ledger, Hiram.”

“Ledger…?” Her stomach jerked into a knot. “But I thought—”

“Thought what?” Sykes asked, and gave her a hard look. He shifted closer. “You didn’t think all this stuff here was free, did you?”

A rush of embarrassment—and panic—coursed through Lily.

Fredericks pushed aside some papers on his desk, searching until he found the ledger. He opened it and flipped through the pages.

“Here we go, Miss St. Claire,” he said, finding the spot. “I got a whole page, just for you.”

Lily gulped. “A whole page?”

“Now, first off,” he said, holding the ledger at arm’s length, “there’s meals. Three a day, every day you were here, plus the cost of bringing them to your room. And meals for your pa, of course.”

“But Papa didn’t even eat—”

“Then there’s the laundry you wanted done,” Fredericks said, running his finger along the page, “and the cost of your room. An extra charge for two people together, of course.”

“Papa was sick,” Lily implored. “I needed to be at his side—”

“Doctor’s expenses,” Fredericks went on. “Two visits a day, at your request. Medicine, bandages, that sort of thing.”

Footsteps, shuffling feet sounded behind Lily and she sensed other men coming into the room, adding to her embarrassment.

“Then there’s board and care for your horses,” Fredericks said.

“My horses were stolen!”

“That don’t mean they didn’t eat while they were here,” Sykes pointed out.

“And then there’s storage on your wagon,” Mr. Fredericks continued.

“It was ransacked!”

Fredericks paused, and he and Sykes looked at each other as if considering the point she’d just made.

“Somebody get Sam over here,” Sykes called over Lily’s head, then said to her, “Sam Becker. He’s the blacksmith that took care of your horses and wagon.”

She glanced behind her and saw one of the men lean out the door and yell.

“Let’s see now, what else?” Fredericks squinted at the page. “Oh, yeah. There’s the funeral. Making the casket, digging the grave, of course, carving your pa’s name into the cross.”

“I did the carving myself,” Sykes said to Lily and grinned proudly. “Thought it was a nice touch, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, I guess that’s about it. So there you have it. That’s everything,” Fredericks announced, closing the ledger with a snap. “As soon as you pay up, Miss St. Claire, you’re free to be on your way.”

Lily’s breath came in quick little heaves, making her heart pounded harder in her chest. She owed these men money? A lot of money? And they wouldn’t let her leave this retched place until she paid them?

“But—but I don’t have any money,” Lily said, spreading her hands.

The two men exchanged a troubled look, then both shook their heads.

“Well, now,” Sykes said. “I guess we got ourselves a problem.”

“I guess we do,” Fredericks agreed.

A little murmur went through the gathering of men situated behind Lily. They’d overheard every word spoken in the room, knew it was a private conversation, yet they’d stayed as if she and her plight were their morning entertainment. Lily’s embarrassment deepened.

Fredericks looked up suddenly and smiled broadly. “Morning, Sam. Come on in here.”

Sam Becker, the blacksmith, murmured a greeting to the men in the room, then shouldered his way past Lily to stand beside Fredericks and Sykes. She’d seen him around the fort, but had never been introduced. He was young, short, thick chested, with muscular arms and meaty hands. He was always sweating.

Fredericks opened the ledger once more, then gave Becker a rundown on Lily’s situation. Becker looked over the older man’s shoulder and nodded.

“I don’t think it’s fair that I be charged for boarding my horses when they were stolen while in your care,” Lily said, trying to remain calm.

Becker looked up at Lily and dragged the back of his hand across his damp brow, leaving a smudged trail of dirt all the way across. He shrugged. “Knock a dollar off my bill,” he said to Fredericks.

“A dollar?” Lily gasped.

Fredericks made a notation in the ledger, then presented it to Lily. “There’s your total, Miss St. Claire.”

Her eyes widened. She felt light-headed. It was a fortune. An absolute fortune. How would she ever manage to pay it?

“I—I have the wagon,” she said and heard the desperation in her own voice. “Would you take that in trade?”

Fredericks and Sykes turned to Becker. He shook his head.

“That wagon of yours ain’t worth what it’d take to roll it off a cliff,” he said to Lily, shaking his head sadly. “Whoever stole your stuff ripped the canvas all to hell— Pardon me for saying so, ma’am. It’s tore up real bad on the inside, too. Running gear’s not much better.”

“But what about my belongings?” Lily offered hopefully. “Surely the vandals left something of value I could trade with.”

Becker shrugged. “All that’s left inside is a bunch of fancy dresses, some dishes, books—nothing that’s worth nothing.”

“Those dresses were designed and sewn by the finest seamstress in the East,” Lily insisted. “And the china is a pattern designed specifically for my family, sent all the way from—”

“You got anything of real value?” Fredericks asked her, cutting her off. “Tools? Whiskey?”

“Well…no,” Lily admitted.

“Huh…” Fredericks stroked his chin and looked back and forth between Sykes and Becker. “What you reckon we ought to do with her?” he asked them.

The three men gazed at Lily and it took all her willpower not to blush.

“How’s your cooking?” Sykes asked.

“Well, I don’t actually cook,” Lily said, then forced a hopeful smile. “I supervise cooks.”

Fredericks shook his head. “You got any sort of a trade?”

“No, not exactly,” Lily admitted.

“Well, what can you do?” Becker asked, looking her up and down.

“I can paint—I’m especially gifted with watercolors—and I embroider,” Lily announced. She drew herself up straighter. “I can plan a party for a hundred people, supervise a large domestic staff—”

“We’re not planning to have no parties any time soon,” Sykes said.

“And our domestic staff?” Becker said. “We gave them the summer off.”

A round of chuckles erupted from the men gathered in the trade room behind Lily. She blushed red, the heat burning her cheeks.

The laughter was followed by a long, uncomfortable silence as the three men continued to look at Lily, assessing her value.

“She can’t do anything,” Fredericks proclaimed, sounding the death kneel on Lily’s worth. “She’s too small to do any real work, she’s got no trade, no skills.”

Becker and Sykes nodded in agreement.

Lily’s embarrassment deepened because they were right. She really was of no value here in the West.

Yet might that work in her favor? Hope sprang in Lily’s thoughts. Since she was so obviously of no value to anyone here at the fort, would they simply let her leave, let her go on her way, knowing they couldn’t possibly recoup their money?

“I know people—wealthy people—in Saint Louis,” Lily said, her spirits lifting. “If you’ll just let me leave here, I’ll send your money back—every penny—as soon as I set foot in the city. I swear I will.”

“Naw,” Fredericks said, shaking his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“How do we know you’d really send it?” Sykes proposed, then added, “No offense, Miss St. Claire.”

“We need the money before you leave,” Fredericks said, announcing it with a finality that caused Lily’s stomach to jerk into a tighter knot.

Lily’s mind spun. Her father’s business associates, friends in Saint Louis would send the money to her here at the fort. Aunt Maribel would gladly do the same. But it would take weeks—months, even—for her message requesting the money to be delivered and the funds sent to her here at the fort.

Revulsion tightened around her heart. She couldn’t—absolutely could not—stay at this fort for that length of time.

Mr. Sykes looked at her one more time, then sighed heavily and said, “Well, I guess there’s only one thing we can do.”

Lily’s hopes soared. She leaned forward trying to hear the three men as they crowded together and whispered. She prayed—desperately—that the men would take pity on her and simply let her leave.

“All right, then, it’s settled,” Sykes said when the huddle broke up. “Here’s what we’ve decided to do for you, Miss St. Claire. We’ve decided to set you up in business, right here at the fort.”

“Business?” Lily asked, stunned.

“Makes sense. Good sense,” Becker said, eyeing her critically, seeming to see her a little differently now. “After all, you’re just about the only white woman around these parts.”

Alarm spread through Lily. “What sort of business?”

Sykes shrugged. “You’re a pretty little thing, even if you can’t do much.”

“What sort of business?”

“Here’s how we’ll work things,” Fredericks explained. “We’ll give you a room here in the fort. Once word gets out, well shoot, I expect we’ll have men lined up all the way out the gate.”

“Are you suggesting that I become a—a—” Lily struggled to find her breath. “A—prostitute?”

“You got any better idea?” Sykes asked.

Raw fear raced through Lily. She backed up and turned, looking for an escape. But more men had come into the trade room and were blocking the door. And every one of them leered at her, as if contemplating her naked.

“I—I can’t possibly…” she said, shaking her head frantically.

“We’ll give you a break on your room rent,” Fredericks told her.

“N-no, I can’t—”

“Then you’d better figure some other way to come up with the cash you owe us,” Sykes told her.

“There must be something else you can do,” Lily insisted. “Please, I can’t—”

“Get her a room close to the kitchen,” Becker suggested. “More convenient that way.”

“And I’ll put up a sign,” Sykes offered.

“Paint it red,” Becker advised.

“No!” Lily insisted.

“Don’t worry,” Fredericks said. “You’ll pay off your debts in a couple months’ time.”

“Listen to me.” Lily clenched her fists. “You can’t force me to do this.”

“Then how are you going to pay us?” Fredericks demanded, his voice growing angry. “Do you think you can just waltz in here with your high-handed Eastern ways, take everything at your pleasure, then leave like none of it happened? You’ll do as we say, and that’s that.”

Tears threatened, and Lily fought to gulp them down. “Please, there must be something else I can do.”

Fredericks gave her a hard look. “Listen up, Miss St. Claire, we’re—”

“I’ll settle her debts.”

The three men looked past Lily to the back of the trade room. Lily whirled, her hopes soaring, searching the crowd for the man who’d made the offer.

North Walker stepped forward, sparing not even a glance at Lily.

“I’ll trade you,” he said to Fredericks. “For her.”

Snickers rumbled from the men.

“Hmm…” Fredericks rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He glanced at Sykes, then at Becker.

“I guess we can hear him out,” Fredericks said with a casual shrug.

“All right by me,” Becker agreed.

North looked at Lily. “Go outside.”

She couldn’t move. She could barely think.

“Go outside,” he told her again, more harshly this time.

Lily’s temper flared. She’d had enough of men today—every single one of them. And she wanted to tell them all exactly what she thought of them, but decided it more prudent to keep her mouth shut for the moment.

She pushed her chin up, whirled and strode out of the room with all the dignity Madame DuBois had taught her, despite feeling the hot gaze of every man in the room on her back.

Outside, she eyed the gate and, for a moment, contemplated making a break for it. Right now with her anger up and her heart pounding, Lily thought she might actually hike all the way to Aunt Maribel’s home in Richmond—by sundown.

That foolish notion left a moment later when Jacob Tanner squeezed through the crowd in the trade room and walked over to her.

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Jacob was a nice young man, and he’d been present for her humiliation. He looked as uncomfortable as she when he stopped next to her.

“They had no right, saying those things and talking to you the way they did,” Jacob said softly, nodding toward the trade room. “It ain’t right, but… Well, that’s the way it is around here.”

Lily nodded, comforted and mollified somewhat by his compassionate words.

“Why do people stay here, Jacob?” she asked. “Why do you stay?”

He gazed thoughtfully across the plaza. “Came out here a couple of years ago with my ma and pa, my sister. We all got sick. They died.”

“Oh, Jacob, that’s so sad,” Lily said, feeling a new kinship with him. “But why do you stay? Why don’t you go back home?”

“Got no home to go back to,” Jacob said with a shrug. “My pa sold our farm in Tennessee when he decided we needed to come out here.”

“Don’t you have any family back there?”

“Yes, some. But I haven’t heard nothing from them in so many years now—” Jacob stopped abruptly as North walked out of the trade room. “You take care now, Miss Lily,” he said, and hurried away.

“They can’t do this,” Lily insisted to North, her anger flaring again. “They can’t force me to stay under those—conditions. Where is the sheriff of this territory?”

“They’re the law around here,” North told her and jerked his chin toward the trade room. “They can do whatever they want.”

Her boiling anger cooled slightly because she knew he was right. Jacob had told her the same thing.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked North. “You heard what the other men said about me. I’m of no value to anyone here.”

He eased a little closer. “I think you’re perfect,” he said softly.

Her anger dissolved and an odd tingling took its place, deep inside Lily.

Then his gaze dropped to the hem of her dress and rose slowly, deliberately over her waist, lingered on her bosom, and finally rested on her face.

“For what I have in mind for you, Miss St. Claire,” he said, “you’re perfect.”

Chapter Five

She’d brought the fort to a complete standstill, it seemed.

An unnatural silence hung over the place as Lily crept through the alley and once more took her hiding place among the stacks of crates.

North had insisted she go to her quarters and remain there, but Lily had watched out the window and seen the men who had gathered in the trade room to witness her humiliation head toward the stable.

Now, every man in the fort, it seemed, stood in a loose circle, maintaining a discreet distance from Hiram Fredericks, Oliver Sykes, Sam Becker. And North, of course.

Once more, it seemed she was their entertainment.

With practiced ease, North dickered with the three men. Lily couldn’t hear their words, but she could tell by the frowns, head shakes and shrugs that negotiations were underway.

For her.

What would North offer in trade for her? Lily wondered as she watched. That beautiful stallion she’d seen him with in the corral? An item of greater value? Did North possess something that Fredericks and the other men would find acceptable in her stead? For a moment she supposed a woman should be flattered by all this attention. Under other circumstances, that might be true.

Watching North, she thought once again that he was rescuing her, saving her from a terrible fate. But Lily couldn’t work up any gratitude or compassion for him, not yet, anyway.

Not until she knew what he expected in return.

A murmur rose from the crowd gathered around the negotiators. Several of the men shook their heads—whether in amazement or dismay, Lily couldn’t tell. North clasped hands with Fredericks, then Sykes and Becker.

So, it was done.

Lily’s heart pounded a little harder as she watched North go into the corral, then disappear into the stable. The stallion. The finest example of horseflesh she’d seen at the fort—surely the most highly prized commodity in the territory. Is that what he’d traded? For her?

Then a snicker went through the crowd and several men laughed aloud as North led three horses from the stable, then out of the corral, and handed the lead ropes over to Fredericks.

Humiliation burned Lily’s cheeks like a hot brand, stealing her breath. Three old nags. Sway-back, heads hanging, hoofs dragging.

Worthless.

Which, apparently, was what North considered her.

Some of the men seemed to think so, too, because the chuckles continued.

“Hey, North,” one man called, “I still think you’re getting the worse end of this bargain.”

More laughter rose from the men as they drifted away; they would be talking about this for days.

North shook hands once more with Fredericks, Sykes and Becker. Apparently, they were pleased with the deal, and for that, Lily knew she should be grateful. Yet she’d never been so insulted in her life.

Three broken-down, worn-out horses? That’s all North had offered in trade for her? That’s all he believed she was worth?

When Becker led the horses back into the stable and Fredericks and Sykes headed to the trade room, Lily climbed down from the crates. She stomped over to North and blocked his path.

“That’s it?” she demanded, flinging her hand toward the stable.

North gazed at her, his brows pulled together.

“That’s what you think I’m worth?” she asked, once more gesturing with her hand.

He leaned his head slightly sideways, just looking at her.

“I know you speak English!” Lily declared. She pulled herself up a little taller. “In polite society, a gentleman answers a question posed by a lady.”

“This isn’t exactly polite society,” North told her. “And as you’ve already said, Miss St. Claire, I’m no gentleman.”

“Are you suggesting that I should have no expectation of civility from you?” Lily demanded.

North just looked at her. “Are you still speaking English?”

“Of course I am!” Lily reined in her runaway temper. Alienating him would do her no good.

She turned their conversation to a more pressing issue, though she could barely bring it up without blushing.

“I—I’d like to know what you…expect of me,” Lily said.

“I expect you to be what you are,” North told her, as if it should be obvious. “A white woman. That’s what I want. Now, pack your things. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” A cold chill swept up Lily’s spine. She drew back from him. The fort that had been so foreign, so frightening to her now seemed as if it were the safest of havens.

“Do you think you can order me around because you’ve paid my debt?” Lily asked indignantly. “As if I’m your property?”

North expression hardened. “If this doesn’t suit you, Miss St. Claire, I’m sure Fredericks is still willing to set you up in business.”

Lily flushed but refused to look away. “All right,” she admitted. “I do owe you for settling my debts. If you’ll just let me leave, I’ll go to my aunt’s home in Richmond. She’s very wealthy. She’ll arrange to send you your money immediately.”

“The only place you’re going is with me,” North told her. “And when I’m finished with you, I don’t care where you go.”

For a woman who’d talked nearly nonstop since the first time North had laid eyes on her, Lily hadn’t spoken a word to him—or anyone else—since she’d climbed into the wagon and left the fort.

Whoever had stolen her horses and her belongings had damaged the wagon considerably; he didn’t know for certain but strongly suspected the culprits were the three men who’d ridden into the fort with her, then taken off for Santa Fe the morning her father died.

North figured the thieves must have speculated—wrongly—that she would mount an effort to pursue them and recover her possessions, and damaging the wagon would prevent that.

He’d done minimal repairs and hitched up a team of his own horses to make the journey from the fort. Still, the wagon creaked and moaned with every turn of its wobbly wheels.

Lily sat huddled at the rear of the wagon, the torn canvas flapping in the breeze. He’d thought that she would sit up front beside him on the seat, but she hadn’t. North wasn’t sure why he’d expected her to, or why it bothered him that she hadn’t.

He wasn’t sure why many things about Lily troubled him.

Like the way she smelled. Fresh and clean. Flowers in a spring meadow after a rain shower. No other woman he’d ever known had smelled that way.

North shifted on the seat, the unexpected tingling of desire startling him. Desire for Lily, of all women.

Determinedly, he pushed her from his thoughts. More pressing issues needed his time, his thoughts and certainly his energy. He didn’t want to think about her.

Or about what awaited them both at the end of the day.

North hoped he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

Each moment that passed took Lily farther and farther away from the fort, away from civilization…such as it was, anyway.

Seated at the rear of the wagon, her back to North, she watched the scenery roll away. Bent’s Fort had disappeared from view long ago; she’d trained her gaze on it until the very last second. Now she searched the landscape for other identifying markers: outcroppings of rocks, a unique stand of cottonwoods, an oddly shaped ditch or rise, anything that might lead her back to the fort—if she managed to escape from wherever North was taking her.

A knot drew tighter in her stomach. She had no idea how long they might travel, when they might stop, or where they were headed.

Yet she feared she knew what would happen when they arrived.

He’d hold her captive. Ravish her. Surely, he would. Why else would he want her?

For a moment, Lily wondered if she’d have been better off remaining at the fort. If she’d actually been set up in business as a prostitute, as Hiram Fredericks and the other men had wanted, at least she’d have an accounting of her debt. If North demanded the same sort of repayment, how would she keep track? She had no idea how much to charge. Would she have to remain his captive until he decided her debt was paid?

Her head spun slightly and her stomach ached. Among the few items the robbers hadn’t taken from her wagon was a quilt, and Lily was tempted to curl up on it and sleep. But she didn’t dare. She had to remain vigilant. Had to keep watch. Memorize the trail back to the fort. Look for an opportunity to escape.

Glumly, she gazed at the scenery. They hadn’t passed a house, cabin, tent or another human being since leaving the fort.

She’d never see Aunt Maribel again.

Gradually, the prairie blended into trees and a discernable trail was evident through the forest. Another wave of anxiety washed through Lily. Did that mean a settlement was up ahead? Or was he taking her to the Cheyenne village?

White women never escaped an Indian village. Everyone on the wagon train had said so.

To her surprise, the wagon pulled to a stop in front of a small log cabin, sheltered beneath the bows of towering trees. Several outbuildings and a modest barn stood a short distance away, along with a corral holding a number of horses.

Lily leaned sideways, glimpsing the place through the tears in the canvas.

“Where are we?” she asked, both curious and frightened.

“We’re home.” North jumped down from the seat. “My home.”

Lily gulped hard. “This—this is where we’re…staying?”

Fear almost caused her to double over. Nothing around for miles. No one to hear her screams. Not a soul, probably, who even knew she was here.

“Let’s go,” North called, and waved her toward the cabin.

Lily folded her arms tight across her middle and rocked forward. She couldn’t get up. She simply could not.

He walked back to the end of the wagon and gazed up at her. “What’s wrong?”

Lily couldn’t give him an answer. Where would she begin? She caught the edge of the quilt and pulled it onto her lap.

“Are you sick?” North lowered the tailgate.

Of course she was sick. Sick with worry and fear. Lily gulped down the lump of emotion that rose into her throat. She couldn’t stand. Her legs wouldn’t hold her up.

Lily glanced at North. He stood at the tailgate gazing up at her, concern in his expression.

He had his nerve, she decided suddenly. Inquiring about her health and looking concerned—after he’d traded three horses for her and brought her here as if she were so much livestock.

She wouldn’t go peaceably. The notion struck Lily like a bolt of lightning, charging her with strength. She wouldn’t bend to his will, allow him to do anything he chose. She wouldn’t.

With a quick snap, Lily unfurled the quilt and threw it over North’s head. She leaped to the ground, shouldered him in the chest with all the strength she could muster—enough to knock him back a step—and raced down the trail.

Lily hiked up her dress, desperate to get away. She’d bought herself a few seconds. Would it be enough? It had to be.

Footsteps pounded behind her. Lily glanced back. North. She screamed and ran harder. An arm looped her stomach and jerked her off her feet, stealing her breath away.

“Let me go!” Lily kicked, banged away at him with her elbows. His arm was like a steel band around her middle, but she wiggled furiously until she broke free. She ran again. He caught her again, this time jerking her backward by her arm.

Lily’s ankle twisted. She pitched forward. North lurched toward her. Their feet tangled. They both went down.

She landed atop him, her face inches from his. Her breasts molded against his hard chest. Her thighs lay against his. Stunned, they both stilled, gazing into each other eyes.

Heat rose from him, saturating her through the layers of their clothing. His breath, hot and thick, puffed against her chin. A long, endless moment passed. Lily couldn’t move. Held captive by nothing more than his gaze, she lay there.

He shifted beneath her and she gasped as the hard length of him dug into her thigh. Lily scrambled to her feet, and ran. She dashed through the forest, weaving through trees, leaping exposed roots, vines and shrubs.

North caught her again, once more looping his arm around her waist. He jerked her off her feet. Lily twisted, struggling desperately until she escaped his grasp again. But before she could run, he grabbed her wrist. Lily spun away yet he held her firmly, his strong fingers digging into her flesh.