The Temptress Read online

  “Mr. Prescott,” she called and succeeded in waking him from where he slumped forward in his saddle. “Look ahead.”

  There was renewed energy as they urged the horses on toward the fire and all Chris could think of was finally being allowed to stop and sleep. Even as she was still moving, she began to unfasten the straps at the back of the saddle that held her sleeping roll.

  When they did halt, Chris dropped her bedroll onto the ground, then fell on top of it and was asleep in an instant.

  She had no idea how long she slept before something woke her. She opened her heavy eyelids. It was still dark but there was a faint hint of early morning light and in it, she could see outlined a man wearing a wide brimmed hat moving almost silently as he unsaddled the horses and gave them food and water.

  Chris half slept, half waked as she watched him and even when he began to walk toward her, she still didn’t awaken fully.

  He knelt by her and it seemed perfectly natural when he pulled her into his arms. Like a sleepy child, she just smiled and snuggled against him.

  “You’re on top of your blankets,” he said in that voice that seemed to rumble through her. “You’ll get cold.”

  She nodded once while he straightened the blanket under her, then put the other one on top. For just a moment, as he covered the far side of her, she thought his lips were near her forehead and she smiled, eyes closed. It was like a good-night kiss from her father. “Good night, Ty,” she whispered and fell asleep again.

  When she woke again, it was full daylight and at first she thought she must be dreaming, for around her was a place of fantasy. Tall, tall trees towered overhead, blocking the sun, everything covered with gray-green moss or ferns, everything so soft. It was as if she were at the end of the earth.

  Near her, Mr. Prescott slept soundly. It felt to Chris that she was the only person alive on earth.

  Slowly, she got up, stood and stretched. The eerie forest seemed to be utterly and totally silent. In front of her was what passed for a path, little more than a rut in the greenery. They’d come in from the right so now she took the left path.

  She was no more than a few feet from the camp but, as soon as she turned a bend, she felt alone. She may as well have been a hundred miles away from another human. She kept walking, no more than a few yards on the springy forest floor, and she thought she heard water ahead of her.

  Another few yards and she could see a rushing stream below and to her right, with big boulders in the water covered with patches of black moss. Suddenly, the only thought that Chris had was of the bath she’d missed two days ago. She thought with regret of the tub full of hot water that she’d had to leave behind. Why couldn’t the men have stayed inside the closet until she’d finished bathing? Of course they might have if she hadn’t opened the door to the wardrobe. Stayed in there and watched her, she thought with a grimace as she ran down to the water.

  Now, all she could think of was getting clean again and she had her clothes off in a second and was wading into the water. It was icy and took her breath away but she wanted to be clean more than she wanted to be warm. She washed while standing behind a cluster of boulders so that if either of the men came from the camp, they wouldn’t be able to see her, and she was close to the edge of the forest so she could make a run for it if necessary.

  She was just finishing her bath and regretting her impulsiveness because she didn’t have a towel with her when she thought she heard a man whistling and looked up to see Mr. Prescott coming down the trail. Quickly, she ran from the water, grabbed her clothes and ran into the forest—only to run smack into the hard chest of Tynan.

  For a moment they were both too astonished to speak. The lush, abundant greenery of the forest deadened all sound and two people could walk into each other without seeing or hearing anything beforehand.

  Tynan’s hands caught and held her, his fingers moving down her back as he stepped away from her just a bit so he could look at her naked body.

  “Miss Mathison, I’d recognize you anywhere,” he said with a smile.

  Chris, with a cry, pushed away from him and ran a couple of feet to get behind a tree, where she began to dress with shaking hands.

  “The water’s really too cold to be taking a bath, Miss Mathison,” he said and there was laughter in his voice. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed all your baths, but next time, I think you should ask me first. I wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

  Chris could think of nothing to say as she dressed. All day yesterday, during that long ride, she’d fantasized about this mysterious man and had begun to believe what she’d asked Asher about, that he was probably deformed or disfigured in some way and that’s why he didn’t want anyone to see him. But even in the few seconds that she’d had to look at him, she’d known he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was very masculine, with generous features, perfectly formed lips, eyes of a brilliant blue, a big, square jaw, and black hair that curled about the collar of a shirt that repeated the color of his eyes.

  When she was dressed, Chris stepped from behind the tree. He was sitting on the ground, his back to her.

  She’d had such a different idea of what he looked like, she’d begun to think that he was even fatherly after the way he’d tucked her in last night. But there was nothing fatherly about this man.

  She walked toward him and when he didn’t turn around, she moved to stand in front of him. He didn’t look up, keeping his face concealed by the broad-brimmed hat. Boldly, Chris sat down across from him.

  He kept his head down. “I want to apologize, Miss Mathison,” he said softly. “I seem to keep embarrassing you and I haven’t meant to. It’s just that we keep meeting under very unusual circumstances. I don’t want you to have the wrong impression of me. I was hired by your father to rescue you and take you back to him. And that’s all I mean to do.”

  Chapter Three

  Chris sat there looking at the top of his hat and thought how utterly bizarre the situation was. This man had made her look like a fool twice, he’d held her in his arms three times—not to mention that two of those times she’d had no clothes on—he had kidnapped her, telling her that it didn’t matter at all what she wanted, yet here she was feeling as if she should comfort him. She put out her hand to touch his and as she did so, she saw a red, raw place on his wrist, just barely visible beneath his shirt cuff.

  “You’ve hurt yourself,” she said, immediately concerned.

  He was on his feet instantly, and before Chris could say another word, he walked, half ran actually, to the edge of the stream and called to Prescott.

  Chris was left sitting on the moss and wondering what she had said to offend him.

  “Here she is,” she heard Tynan saying before he reappeared, leading the man as if he were herding a maverick. As little as she knew of Tynan, she was sure that the voice he was using was a false one. “You’ve introduced yourselves, haven’t you, Miss Mathison? This is Asher Prescott. He’s a friend of your father and will be with us while we slowly make our way through this forest. Ash, why don’t you take Miss Mathison fishing? We’ll need fresh food. And later, you two can gather firewood.” He gave Ash a little push in Chris’s direction.

  Asher smiled down at Chris and offered her his hand to help her stand. “Shall we go fishing, Miss Mathison? I hear there are salmon in these waters.”

  Chris was confused by what was happening. She didn’t want to spend the day with Mr. Prescott but it didn’t seem as if she had any choice. It seemed to be already arranged. She glanced at Tynan but he had his head turned so that she couldn’t see his face.

  “Why, yes, fishing sounds like a delightful pastime,” she answered as she accepted Mr. Prescott’s hand. By the time she stood, Tynan had disappeared into the trees.

  She and Asher walked back to the camp together to find that there were supplies and two mules that Chris had not seen before and Mr. Prescott was already handing her a fishing pole.

  “Shall we go, Miss Mathison?”