Karen Robards - Amanda Rose

“Yes.” She was proud of herself. This time her voice was just right: steady and confident.

“Good. Then you can help me to stand up. And remember what I told you: I don’t have anything to lose.” This last was growled so menacingly that Amanda shrank back.

“I-I’ll remember.” At the moment she didn’t think it would be possible ever to think of anything else. Sheer fright was causing her hands to shake almost as much as his were. Why did she never do as she was bid? If she had listened to the sisters, she would be safely tucked up in her bed now, not trapped in a living nightmare with a man who could easily take it into his head to kill her at any minute.

“Are you asleep?” There was a note of exasperation in that gravelly voice. “I told you to help me up.”

Thus adjured, Amanda made a hasty, abortive attempt to get to her feet, only to be brought up short with a whimper of pain as a sudden, sharp agony shot through the part of her scalp that was attached to the hank of hair wrapped around his hand. Damn. She had forgotten just for an instant that he still had a grip on her hair.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, swiveling his head so that he could look at her as she rocked back on her heels. One of her hands rubbed at her tender scalp.

“I told you-you’re hurting me.” Her tone was resentful. Then, as a thought occurred to her, she continued carefully, “If you want me to help you, you’ll have to let go of my hair. You must see that I can’t do anything while you’re holding me like this.”

He looked at her consideringly. Amanda returned his look, her expression as innocent as she could make it.

“And as soon as I let go of your hair, you’ll be off like a little doe,” he said, sneering. “I told you before, I’m not stupid. You’ll just have to manage to get up and get me on my feet the best way you can. And considering the consequences if you don’t, I’m sure you’ll contrive something.”

Amanda swallowed. He was right; considering the consequences, she would contrive something. She positioned her feet beneath her and then straightened her knees so that she was upright from foot to waist, but still bent over him, anchored to him by her blasted hair.

“Very good,” he said approvingly, and again she thought she detected a touch of humor in his voice. Crossly she wished the fever would come upon him once more, rendering him helpless. Why did nothing ever happen as it should?

After a moment’s thought she reached down to grasp him under his armpits, pulling back with all her might. He barely budged, and she was soon panting as if she had run for miles.

“You’re not very strong, are you?” he said critically at last, his eyes disparaging as they moved over her slender body. Amanda started to stiffen indignantly, remembered just in time his hand in her hair, and contented herself with glaring at him instead.

“You’ll have to help me,” she answered coldly-or as coldly as she could with perspiration beading her forehead and her breathing ragged. “You’re very heavy.”

“Grab my hand and pull,” he instructed, and when she had grasped his proffered hand, he unwound his other hand from her hair. Amanda felt a flood of mingled relief and surprise, and immediately jerked as hard as she could on her imprisoned hand, hoping to yank it free. But she only succeeded in hauling him into a sitting position. His grip was like a vise.

“I knew you could do it.” His voice was faint but the tone sardonic. He was now leaning back against the rock that had sheltered him, and his eyes were closed. Her petticoat had slipped from his shoulders to lie like a crumpled flag of surrender against the dark shale. Amanda waited a second, watching him, then gave another surreptitious tug on her hand. Nothing happened-but his eyes opened.

“Don’t try to run away, Amanda,” he cautioned softly, his voice chilling her blood. “You won’t succeed-except in making me very angry.”

She stopped tugging. He leaned back against the rock again, his eyes closed, his breathing labored. Anchored to his hand as she was, Amanda could not help but be aware of the raging heat of his flesh and of the tremors that shook him. Despite her fear, she felt another of those odd little pangs of pity for him. He was clearly very ill… But there was nothing she could do for him, nothing she would want to do for him if she could. She was not foolish enough to aid, any more than she could help, a man who gave every indication that he planned to kill her sooner or later.

His eyes opened again, touching on her face like a silvery flash of fire before moving on to fix with grim concentration on his feet in their ill-made shoes. Moving slowly, as though it required tremendous effort to do so, he drew his knees up so that his feet were planted as close to his body as he could get them. Watching, Amanda saw his muscles tense as he braced his back against the rock.

“All right. Now see if you can help me stand up,” he ordered. Amanda looked at him briefly, then did as he told her, pulling on the hand that imprisoned hers with all her might. To her mingled relief and dismay, he inched slowly upright until at last he was on his feet, leaning against the rock, his face as pale as a corpse’s and his breath rattling in his throat in a way that made Amanda wince just to hear it. Throughout, he had never slackened his grip on her hand.

He stayed like that for several minutes, catching his breath, and then he looked at Amanda again.

“Come closer,” he said, pulling on her hand to enforce his words. Amanda hung back, not liking to get too near him now that he was on his feet. His sheer size frightened her. He was huge, tall and broad-shouldered, easily dwarfing her own petite frame so that she felt like a little child beside him. Despite his leanness, the muscles that were clearly visible through his ragged clothes were corded and strong-looking. She was no longer left with even a shred of doubt about who would emerge the victor in any contest of physical strength between them.

“Amanda.” His voice was a chill warning. Not knowing what else to do, Amanda reluctantly moved nearer, flinching as he drew her close to his side. He positioned her so that she was under his left armpit and he could lean on her. When his arm had clamped firmly around her shoulders-his fingers tangling in a strand of her hair again for extra insurance-he let go of her hand. Amanda could have sobbed with frustration. He was taking no chances on losing her.

When at last she was situated to his liking, he took a tentative step away from the rock, leaning heavily on Amanda, who staggered. He staggered with her, and for a moment she thought they were both going to fall on the rock-studded beach. But miraculously they managed to stay upright, although he was none too steady on his feet. They advanced a step, and then another-and then he stumbled over something, perhaps a jutting rock or even his own feet. Whatever the cause, he fell heavily, his arm slipping away from Amanda’s shoulder and his hand wrenching the lock of hair he had held captive from her scalp. The pain made Amanda’s eyes water. She clapped an instinctive hand to her head, rubbing vigorously in an effort to ease the ache as he crashed to the shale. His curses turned the air blue and would have put Amanda to the blush again-if she had stayed around to hear them.

But she did not. As soon as she realized that she was free- free -her feet seemed to sprout wings and she was off like a shot, scrambling away over the beach. She had not gone more than a yard when she heard a murderous growl behind her. Throwing a terrified look over her shoulder, she saw that he had somehow managed to get to his feet and was coming after her. Even as she tried frantically to speed up her escape, he was launching himself toward her in a flying tackle. She screamed as she felt his arms lock around her waist and his weight force her to the ground. The sound was silenced abruptly as the sudden jolt crushed the breath from her lungs. By the time she had recovered her senses enough to be aware of what was happening again, he had turned her onto her back and was leaning over her, his eyes flashing with an unholy light. His lower body crushed her legs into the shale.