Valerie Parv - Heir To Danger

What would his tiger be like, once unleashed?

She rubbed her calf absently, having had a glimpse when his friend threw the spear at her. Only a slight ache reminded her of where the point had penetrated her flesh. A lesser man would have allowed Wandarra to punish her, and she would have suffered more as a result. Tom’s bold action had saved her. A desert warrior indeed.

Irritated with herself for letting him dominate her thoughts, she reached for her notebook. In case she was unable to retrieve the tape of Jamal’s meeting, she had decided to reconstruct what she could remember. The task would take her mind off everything, including Tom.

On impulse she got up again and fetched the loaded rifle he had left with her when he couldn’t persuade her to remain at the homestead. She had assured him she knew how to use a firearm, having been taught to shoot in Q’aresh, although she had never targeted a living creature. Wasn’t sure she’d be able to. But she felt better having the weapon near at hand.

How long would she have to endure this hunted existence? If Judy’s prediction proved true and their neighbor gained control of this land, Diamond Downs might not provide a sanctuary for much longer. What would she do then? What would all of the Logans do?

Their connection with this place evidently ran as deep as hers to her native country. She wished there was something she could do to help them.

Some time later she closed the notebook with a feeling of dissatisfaction. She had a reasonably clear account of the plans Jamal and his cronies had talked about, but it still wasn’t enough to convince her father. To do that she had to get hold of the tape hidden aboard the plane. Easier said than done, she was sure.

Taking a sip of now-tepid coffee, she lifted her chin. Where there was a will, there was a way, as her Australian-born grandmother had told her often enough.

A fierce longing for her grandmother gripped Shara. In spite of her love of Australia, Noni was fiercely loyal to her adopted country. But having her close by even for a short time would have made the cottage feel more like home to Shara.

The sound of a car pulling up outside made her pulse spike. Jamal? If it was him, he was in for a shock. She hadn’t come this far to let him win now. Dragging the rifle across her knees, she aimed it at the door and waited.

When the door creaked open and a bulky male shape filled the opening, she lifted the rifle. “Take one step closer and I’ll shoot.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” said a husky voice.

“Tom?”

He lowered the hands he’d raised to shoulder height and came to take the gun from her. He had to pry it from her tense fingers. “You would have used it, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded, blinking hard, letting anger chase away tears. “You’d better believe it. Why didn’t you call out to let me know it was you?”

“Everything was so quiet that I thought you must be resting.” Or gone, he’d thought but didn’t add. His heart had started to race at this possibility.

She massaged her eyes as if they were tired. When she lowered her hands, he saw the fear in her liquid gaze. He eased on the safety catch and propped the rifle against the couch before grasping her hands and bringing her to her feet. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

A tremor shook her. “I thought you were Jamal.”

“If you’re this worried about what he might do, why insist on staying here alone?”

She looked away. “Haven’t you ever wanted to prove something to yourself?”

He pressed one finger under her chin, making her look at him. “You got yourself out of a bad situation that could only have gotten worse. What else do you need to prove?”

“That I’m not a total coward.”

Her husky voice purred through him, warm as molasses. With her hands trapped in his and less than a heatbeat of space between them, his breathing caught. Under different circumstances, he’d have accepted the invitation of her parted lips without hesitation.

Feeling another tremor ripple through her strengthened his resistance, for now anyway. A man could resist temptation only so long. He looked pointedly at the rifle. “You’re not a coward. In another second you’d have put a bullet in me.”

She tossed her head, spilling a river of raven strands over his fingers. “Anyone can be brave with a gun in their hands. Forcing my father to listen to my concerns about Jamal would have shown greater courage.”

“Without proof, you’d only have gotten yourself locked up in the palace for the rest of your life.” His tone rejected the waste.

“It might not have been forever.”

“The other night you said the king meant to lock you away until you agreed to his marriage plans for you. Parole hardly sounds likely.”

Her sigh whispered between them. “No, it doesn’t. But this isn’t freedom, either.”

Her bleak tone made Tom remember a time, many years ago, when he’d felt as if his life was over, too. With his mother dead and his father in prison for her murder, he hadn’t been able to imagine drawing a whole breath again. The muscles used for smiling and laughing had frozen forever, or so he’d believed.

He suspected Shara was staring into a similar abyss now.

Without thinking, he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. The kiss was meant as reassurance, to tell her she wasn’t alone and that somebody cared. The somebody being him.

She steadied herself by placing her hands on his waist, accepting the touch of his mouth without returning the pressure.

As a result, the kiss was chaste, brotherly and completely one-sided. But the contact sent liquid fire searing along his veins. He made an effort to even his breathing, and took a step back. Her hands dropped away but she didn’t move. “We have to get you out of here,” he said, annoyed with himself for delaying. The arousal he felt told him the time hadn’t been wasted, but that was beside the point.

She ran her tongue over her lips as if tasting him, oblivious to the effect the small gesture had on him. “I can’t keep running away.”

“From the air, Judy spotted one of Horvath’s cars heading this way. It’s likely to arrive any minute.”

Her face paled. “Was Jamal in the vehicle?”

“No way to tell, so let’s assume the answer is yes.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not running from him.”

“Oh, yes you are. I’m not risking him bundling you into a private plane and taking you back to Q’aresh against your will.” The prospect shook her, he saw, as well it should. From her description of Jamal, the man was capable of abduction—or worse.

Still, her head came up. “You can’t force me to do as you say.”

He got a glimpse of the royal princess in her determined stance and outthrust chin. She was magnificent. He could imagine her in a palace, giving orders to a bevy of servants. He slanted her a smile that his foster sister would have read as a warning and been off before he could blink. Not having Judy’s understanding of him, Shara foolishly stood her ground.

Not for long.

“Put me down, you peasant,” she yelled, drumming her fists against his back as he tossed her over his shoulder. “You’re hurting my injured leg.”

Hit right in the conscience, he almost complied until he remembered that she hadn’t so much as limped since he arrived. “Nice try,” he said.

“I’ll have you thrown in jail, publicly flogged, maybe both.”

Having her small, nicely rounded rear pressing against his cheek was punishment enough, since he couldn’t do anything about it. Except enjoy it, a not unreasonable benefit, considering he was trying to save her life. If his palm lingered on her firm flesh longer than strictly necessary, he could hardly be blamed.