bushes provided a screen for her.
All the while she scooted back, Conner held his ground, shielding her with his body. He made it difficult to despise him totally when he continually put himself in danger to protect her. And she wanted— needed —to despise him. She had to stay alert to keep from falling under his spell. Out in the forest where a higher law prevailed, life seemed very black and white.
Only when she was safely under cover did Conner begin to move. The gun was always ready, his gaze restlessly examining every inch of their surroundings, missing nothing. He slowly drew back into the brush to lie beside her. With infinite patience he pushed the gun into her hands, settling her finger on the trigger and cautioning her again to silence. His hand, almost in slow motion, went to the small daggerlike pieces of metal in the loops of his belt. He palmed two of them without a sound.
She’d never really noticed them, so small and harmless-looking, but she saw, before his fingers concealed them, that they were lethal stiletto-like daggers. An assassin’s weapon. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how she’d ever gotten to this place with this man. He touched the back of her hand and waited until she dared to look at him again. He winked and just like that the tension eased.
Night descended fast in the rain forest and, although she was used to camping for long periods of time while she worked, she was used to being safely off the ground and out of the way of the millions of insects that turned the forest floor into a living carpet. She could feel bugs moving over her skin and might have tried to move in order to dislodge them, had Conner not touched her hand and given her that slow, sexy wink.
Isabeau’s breath caught in her throat and she froze as two huge boots stepped inches from her head. Conner never moved. He lay beside her, his breath even and silent, but she could feel the tension coiling in his body, the bunching of his muscles as he gathered himself, preparing for the spring. The man crouched down and began to inch his way through the brush. Steam rose from the ground, surrounding his boots and calves with every step he took.
The sight should have struck fear into her heart, but Conner was too solid next to her, too much of a hunter, his eyes fixed on his prey, unblinking, like the eyes of a leopard. His eyes blazed, the amber darkening to yellow-green, smoldering with tension, with fire, but mostly with a cunning intelligence. His gaze was penetrating and she couldn’t take her eyes from his face, not even to see where the man creeping through the forest was headed.
Isabeau heard her heart pound, but Conner never moved, using all the natural patience of a leopard, completely motionless as the man turned his back and took several steps away from them, alerting to a soft noise just ahead. Her breath stilled in her lungs as she caught Adan’s scent. He was close and the man hiding in the brush heard him.
Conner slid forward, a slow, belly-to-ground stalk, propelling himself forward inch by inch. He crawled and froze, using the meager cover to inch within a foot of his prey. The closer he approached, the slower he moved, continuing the freeze-frame stalk until he was nearly on the man. Once locked on, his dilated gaze never moved from his intended target. He exploded off the ground, leaping on his prey, the two daggers grabbing, holding and puncturing. He held his prey easily with his great strength, while the large man resisted, trying to fight back, dropping his weapon in the process, unable to cry out.
Isabeau tried to look away, but the sight of the life- and-death struggle mesmerized her. Mostly she looked at Conner’s face. His expression never changed. His eyes looked savage, that strange burning gold now, but his face was a mask of implacable resolve. She couldn’t imagine him defeated by anything. He seemed invincible. He looked ruthless. Deadly. And God help her, she was drawn
All the while she scooted back, Conner held his ground, shielding her with his body. He made it difficult to despise him totally when he continually put himself in danger to protect her. And she wanted— needed —to despise him. She had to stay alert to keep from falling under his spell. Out in the forest where a higher law prevailed, life seemed very black and white.
Only when she was safely under cover did Conner begin to move. The gun was always ready, his gaze restlessly examining every inch of their surroundings, missing nothing. He slowly drew back into the brush to lie beside her. With infinite patience he pushed the gun into her hands, settling her finger on the trigger and cautioning her again to silence. His hand, almost in slow motion, went to the small daggerlike pieces of metal in the loops of his belt. He palmed two of them without a sound.
She’d never really noticed them, so small and harmless-looking, but she saw, before his fingers concealed them, that they were lethal stiletto-like daggers. An assassin’s weapon. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how she’d ever gotten to this place with this man. He touched the back of her hand and waited until she dared to look at him again. He winked and just like that the tension eased.
Night descended fast in the rain forest and, although she was used to camping for long periods of time while she worked, she was used to being safely off the ground and out of the way of the millions of insects that turned the forest floor into a living carpet. She could feel bugs moving over her skin and might have tried to move in order to dislodge them, had Conner not touched her hand and given her that slow, sexy wink.
Isabeau’s breath caught in her throat and she froze as two huge boots stepped inches from her head. Conner never moved. He lay beside her, his breath even and silent, but she could feel the tension coiling in his body, the bunching of his muscles as he gathered himself, preparing for the spring. The man crouched down and began to inch his way through the brush. Steam rose from the ground, surrounding his boots and calves with every step he took.
The sight should have struck fear into her heart, but Conner was too solid next to her, too much of a hunter, his eyes fixed on his prey, unblinking, like the eyes of a leopard. His eyes blazed, the amber darkening to yellow-green, smoldering with tension, with fire, but mostly with a cunning intelligence. His gaze was penetrating and she couldn’t take her eyes from his face, not even to see where the man creeping through the forest was headed.
Isabeau heard her heart pound, but Conner never moved, using all the natural patience of a leopard, completely motionless as the man turned his back and took several steps away from them, alerting to a soft noise just ahead. Her breath stilled in her lungs as she caught Adan’s scent. He was close and the man hiding in the brush heard him.
Conner slid forward, a slow, belly-to-ground stalk, propelling himself forward inch by inch. He crawled and froze, using the meager cover to inch within a foot of his prey. The closer he approached, the slower he moved, continuing the freeze-frame stalk until he was nearly on the man. Once locked on, his dilated gaze never moved from his intended target. He exploded off the ground, leaping on his prey, the two daggers grabbing, holding and puncturing. He held his prey easily with his great strength, while the large man resisted, trying to fight back, dropping his weapon in the process, unable to cry out.
Isabeau tried to look away, but the sight of the life- and-death struggle mesmerized her. Mostly she looked at Conner’s face. His expression never changed. His eyes looked savage, that strange burning gold now, but his face was a mask of implacable resolve. She couldn’t imagine him defeated by anything. He seemed invincible. He looked ruthless. Deadly. And God help her, she was drawn
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