Captive by Heather Graham Page B

and it was brushed to an extraordinary shine. It curled and waved and cascaded over her shoulders. Her dress was a perfectly decent day dress, he realized. It was just that the woman within it was exceptionally lush.
    Damn it. Things were rising again. He drew up his knees to create a concealing tent of the bedding.
    She sat down at the foot of his bed.
    “Miss Warren, what are you doing?”
    “Trying to make peace.”
    “This is not the place—”
    “Mr. McKenzie—”
    He set his coffee on the cherrywood nightstand by the bed and reached forward suddenly, almost losing the sheet. He wound his fingers around her wrists and drew her forward, almost against him.
    “My, my, Miss Warren, let’s get to the truth here. I’m your first Indian. I speak English. I’ve got white blood. You’re curious. Intrigued. Maybe even a bit tempted. Well, then. Touch while you’ve got the chance.” He drew her palm against his chest, held it there while she gritted her teeth and struggled against him. “Ah, look at that! The color did not rub off. And guess what, Miss Warren? There’s no other difference. Two arms, two legs, one …” His gaze dipped down to his lap. “Or did you want to check that out, too?”
    She went dead still. Her eyes narrowed sharply, but she gave no other sign of her fury. “I don’t need to. I’d damned well bet it was pronged! You are atrocious.”
    “You came into my bedroom! What would your fiance say?”
    “I haven’t got a fiance—”
    “I’ve told you I think he’s a damned good man, Miss Warren. Don’t be cruel to him; you’ll have the devil to pay.”
    “He’s a gentleman; he’d never hurt me.” She tugged her arm, but he held it fast. “Why do you insist on behaving like such a wretched bastard?”
    “Because you’re playing games, Miss Warren!” he suddenly roared and released her wrist.
    She drew her hand back, tried to slap him. He was ready and caught her wrist again. “I told you, not again.”
    “Let me—”
    “No, let me. You’re playing with fire. You want your truces, you want to pick and poke and query. Well, you’re a fool, Miss Warren. And I guarantee you, you’re going to get hurt.”
    “Mr. McKenzie, please quit worrying about me!”
    Just who was he worrying about? he wondered. He was the one in agony, sitting with the woman almost on top of him, the sheet tented up in protection of his “pronged” desire.
    He released her, twisting to throw his legs to the floor and sit up at her side, dragging his sheet along with him. He pressed his temples between his palms, then stared at her again. “Miss Warren …”
    His voice trailed away. She was staring at his shoulders. She looked forward, then down to her now folded hands. Miles of red hair seemed to fall around her, shadowing her features.
    “I did come to make peace,” she murmured.
    “Don’t make peace. Don’t try to make peace. Don’t stay in Florida. Go home. Go back to Charleston. It’s a beautiful city.”
    She shook her head. “It wasn’t exactly my choice to come here.” She was still for a moment and then shrugged. “I was ordered to come here. Army boys and I, Mr. McKenzie, have much in common. We are all supposed to jump on command.”
    “If he doesn’t send you out of here, he is a fool. He will lose you. He is hated, and you are in danger.”
    “Well, he considers himself above any threat, Mr. McKenzie. And I am not unhappy to be here. In fact, I’d be quite happy if it weren’t for the fact that … never mind. I love what I have seen so far. I’ve been reading about the Florida territory all my life. I am anxious to see St. Augustine, Jacksonville, Tallahassee. More. I want to sail by the Keys sometime at a leisurely pace; I want to swim in the rivers. I want to see and feel and taste it all.”
    “You’ll feel a knife at your scalp, Teela.”
    “Perhaps not.”
    “Marry Huntington if you want to stay here. He’s absolutely infatuated with you. He’ll jump when you