Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set (58 page)

Six hours, maybe. Or eight. And then it would be another hour until she found the
policia
and told them her story, and then two or three hours again until the
policia
reached the spot where Blake had been taken by the bandits...

And that would be too late. Besides, if the
policia
recognized her as Eduardo Esteban's daughter, who knew what might happen? Blake needed help, and he needed it now.

Elena's footsteps slowed, then stopped. Above the rasp of her own breath, she heard the sounds of the forest. No one had seen her
. At least she had that on her side. Quickly, she trotted off the road into the trees. Then, moving stealthily, she began to climb.

By the time she neared the abandoned truck, she could hear the bandits laughing and talking among themselves. Blake's hands had been bound behind his back, but he was on his feet.
Thank God,
Elena thought as she stared at him from behind a leafy shrub. His face was pale, and there was a thin smear of blood beside his mouth, but at least he was alive.

Her heart skipped a beat as one of the bandits hauled the carryall from the truck. What if he zipped it open and found her things, a woman's things? They might begin to search for her. But the carryall was passed from hand to hand and finally the last man draped it over his arm.

Suddenly, there was a yell of triumph.

A bandit had been poking beneath the seats and now he held up a bottle of
tequila.
They'd found Manuel's private hoard.  Elena watched as he opened it and took a long swallow. The man beside him laughed and snatched the bottle from him, drank, and then passed it on. Before long, the bottle was empty.

The bandits' laughter grew louder. One of them stuck a gun in Blake's ribs and Elena almost cried out, but Blake stood motionless and finally the man grinned and tucked the pistol into his pocket.

"Vamos,"
he said, shoving Blake hard. One man climbed into the truck, started it, and drove it into a  clearing. He opened the hood and, to the sound of much laughter from his companions, he removed the rotor before joining them as they moved out, single file, along the road.

Hidden in the trees, Elena followed, wincing at what seemed like the loud crunching of her footsteps on the forest floor. But the bandits were noisy; they grew noisier after a second bottle of
tequila
had been opened and passed from man to man, and by the time they finally reached a trail that led off the road to their rude camp in the forest, she was no longer afraid they'd realize she was following them.

They were drunk, laughing at Blake, taunting him with insults. All she feared now was that their alcohol-induced humor would become truly vicious before she could figure out a way to free him from the bandits' clutches.

The men drank through the morning and into the afternoon, trying to finish Manuel's private stock in one sitting. They had tied Blake to a tree on the far side of the camp; every now and then, one would stagger to his feet and shuffle off to relieve himself, invariably pausing beside Blake long enough to deliver an insult or threaten him with a pistol or a fist.

But by the time the shadows began to lengthen, all but one of the bandits lay sprawled in a drunken stupor. Elena watched  as the man yawned mightily, pushed his hat over his eyes, and leaned back against a tree. Within seconds, he, too, was snoring.

When she crept from the trees, Blake was so intent on trying to free his hands that she was almost upon him when he froze and then slowly lifted his head. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Princess!"

The whispered word was an explosion. Her pulse raced as one of the men mumbled in his sleep, and she shook her head wildly. Freeing Blake from the ropes that bound him was difficult; it was as if the knots securing him were determined to defy her fingers. But finally he rose silently to his feet, grimacing as the blood flooded back to his limbs. Together, they untied his wrists; then, carefully, he retrieved the carryall which had been discarded in favor of Manuel's
tequila
.

"Hurry," Elena pleaded in a silent whisper, and he nodded.

The two of them faded into the trees and then broke into a trot. They ran for what seemed like forever. When they were almost at the road, Elena's legs buckled. Blake caught her just as she began to slip to the ground.

"Can you go a little further?" he asked in an urgent whisper.

"Ju...just give me a minute to get my br...breath..."

His arm encircled her waist. "Lean against me," he said, drawing her against his side. "That's my girl." He watched her anxiously as she drew several deep breaths. "OK now?" She nodded and they began walking, his arm still around her. "I'd like to put a little more distance between those guys and us!"

"I thought... I was afraid..."

She was still gasping for breath, and Blake drew her more closely against him.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll be fine. They may have disabled the truck but Manuel told me about a cave up here." She looked at him, disbelief etched into her face. "Yeah, I know, it's a long shot, but it's all we've got. He told me that when he and his cousin were
contrabandistas,
they used to hide out in a cave that's not far from where we are now."

"But the bandits..."

He shook his head. "They won't realize I'm gone for hours, Princess. That
tequila is powerful stuff. And I don't think they'll come after me. It's not worth the effort. I mean, they got my wallet and the truck, and that's all they wanted."

"Did they get our papers, too?" Elena drew air deep into her lungs. "We're going to be in real trouble if..."

He laughed softly. "Hell, they didn't even get our money."

She glanced up at him. "But you said..."

"I've been in enough places like this to know better than to make it easy for scum like them. They got a handful of
quetzals,
that's all. The rest, and our papers, are all tucked away safely in my belt."

"Poor Manuel," Elena whispered. "His truck..."

"We'll buy him a new one, Princess. Don't worry about it. Just lean on me and keep moving. It's going to be dark soon, and I'd sure as hell like to be in that cave by then."

She nodded. She hadn't the energy to tell him they'd never find the cave in these endless acres of
jungle. And that was just as well, because not long after that, Blake drew her into a rocky cleft in the hillside, dark and smelling faintly of animals, but still the most welcome sight imaginable.

Elena sank to the cave's leaf-strewn floor and leaned back against the rocky wall, watching while Blake took a book of matches from the carryall and built a fire.

"Bless you, Manuel," she sighed. "We're going to buy you the biggest, most beautiful truck in the world when this is over."

Blake laughed. "If we pack it full of
tequila, he'll love it." She nodded, eyes closed, listening to the crackling of the fire. "Here," he said. "Take a drink of this."

She opened her eyes. He was squatting beside her, holding out a flask. Elena took it from him and tilted it to her mouth. Water, tepid and slightly alkaline, trickled down her throat.

"Mmm," she said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, "delicious. Was that Evian or Perrier?"

"
Very amusing.”

Elena looked at him in surprise. His voice had gone flat and the expression on his face was grim.

"What's the matter?"

He closed the flask and stuck it into the carryall. "Come on, Princess. Don't play dumb. You know damned well."

"No, I don't know. Are you worried about the bandits? You said..."

She gasped as Blake grasped her shoulders. "What the hell do you mean by defying my orders?" he growled.

"Defying..."

"I told you
you were to get the hell out if there was trouble. I told you not to look back."

"Is this your idea of a joke? Because if it is..."

"Do I look as if I'm joking?"

Her eyes searched his face. "No," she said after a pause. "No, you don't."

"Damned right," he said as he glared at her.

"But..."

"Never mind the excuses," he snapped. "Why the hell didn't you do as you were told?"

"You're impossible, do you know that?" she hissed. "If I'd done as I'd been told, you'd still be sitting in that camp, listening to those
banditos
snore."

"And you'd be in
Mazatal."

Elena's chin lifted. "Exactly. And who knows what would have happened by the time I finally got somebody to come looking for you—
if I
got somebody, hmm?"

Firelight glinted in his dark eyes. "Ah," he said softly, "now I understand. If something had happened to me, you'd have lost your safe conduct to Miami."

Her voice quivered with anger. "You really are a bastard, Mr. Rogan.  Do you really believe I'd... I'd risk my neck just because... just for..." Her voice broke and she turned her face away. "If that's what you think..."

His hands spread along her shoulders and up her neck. "No," he said quietly, "that's not what I think." His fingers tangled in her dark hair and he moved closer to her. "Look at me, Elena."

The softness in his voice was mesmerizing. Slowly, she turned and looked at him from beneath her lashes.

"Then...then why did you say it?" she whispered.

Blake tilted her head up. "Maybe I just wanted to hear the reason from you."

His eyes were dark, so dark. And they were asking for answers she didn't have. Elena swallowed drily.

"It... it just seemed like the right thing to do."

"Did it?"

She could feel her heart racing. His hands were still in her hair, but now his fingers were caressing her, drawing lazy circles on the nape of her neck.

"Yes," she whispered, "I... I..."

"It was a dangerous thing to do," he said softly. Her lashes fluttered as he leaned towards her and kissed the corner of her mouth. "They might have seen you, Princess." His arms closed around her and he eased her slowly down to the floor of the cave. The leaves were soft beneath her, and Blake's breath was warm upon her face.

"I... I didn't think about it," she said, watching as the firelight danced across his face, touching his eyes with flecks of gold.

He brushed his lips across hers. "I told you not to disobey me, Elena." His mouth touched hers again, softly coaxing her lips apart. His words were both a threat and a caress, and she shivered as his hand cupped her chin and he ran his thumb across the soft fullness of her lower lip.

"I didn't. I...I..." Her whispered words became a moan as his hand slid beneath her blouse. "Blake," she said in a broken whisper, "please..."

"You made me a promise," he murmured. His hand cupped her breast as his lips burned the soft skin in the hollow of her throat, and her pulse leaped in response, beating wildly against the excitement of his touch. "Have you forgotten?"

In the flickering glow of the fire, his face was a shadowed mystery.

"No," she said thickly. "I was to be your...your dutiful wife."

He bent to her and his mouth covered hers in a kiss that stole her breath away. "And now, beautiful Princess, that's exactly what you will be."

His mouth fell on hers like a hawk on its prey, taking her breath in a hard, demanding kiss. Elena whimpered and tried to pull free, but the hand threaded in her hair held her fast beneath his plundering mouth. Her heart was racing as if all the devils of hell were at her heels. When he finally lifted his head and looked into her eyes, she drew a shuddering breath.

"Don't do this," she whispered. "Blake, I beg you..."

His eyes burned into hers. "Yes, go on, beg me." His hand slid around her throat, the thumb lying in the pulsing hollow. "Beg me, Elena," he taunted, and he caught her mouth again in another long kiss that left her whimpering. "You knew this had to happen," he said in a voice so thick she barely recognized it.

Something wild and hot flamed to life deep within her. He was going to teach her a lesson, she thought, remembering those other times he'd kissed her into submission. Her bones felt as if they were melting, and she sagged against him.

"Blake," she said, "Blake, please..."

"Please, what?"

He bent to her and his teeth closed lightly on her bottom lip. She moaned against his mouth.

"Blake," she said again, "listen to me. I...I know what you're doing..."

He laughed softly. "Clever girl," he said, touching his mouth to her throat.

"You're... you want to remind me that you're in charge..." She closed her eyes as he nuzzled the hollow of her throat. "This... this business of trying to make me feel... feel vulnerable..."

Blake's arms slid beneath her, gathering her to him. "Is that how you feel when I kiss you?"

Her heart thudded. "No. Yes." She drew in her breath as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. "Don't...don't do that," she whispered. "Blake, you have no right..."

His arms tightened around her. "I have every right." His hand clasped the back of her head and she gasped as he forced her face towards his. "You're my wife." His eyes burned into hers. "That gives me the right. You belong to me. You've always belonged to me."

The same wild heat licked through her again.

“
You can't," she said. "Our marriage isn't real."

"Isn't it?"

His mouth took hers again, his lips slanting down hungrily, imprisoning hers in a kiss that left her moaning. When he lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes were pools of darkness that she knew she could drown in. Elena drew a shuddering breath and then another before she had the strength to speak.

"You know it isn't. When we get to Miami..."

His mouth hardened into a narrow line. "I know what happens when we get to Miami, Elena." His hand moved over her. "But tonight—tonight, we're in a cave in the middle of nowhere. And I’m as hungry for you as you are for me.”

He was right.

She was hungry for him.

So hungry…

She caught her breath as his hand moved across her, brushing lightly over her breast and down to her hip.

“Tell me what you want, Elena.”

His voice was husky; he exuded a maleness that made her breath quicken. She looked up at him, her eyes skittering across his face, touching on his flared nostrils, lingering on the midnight darkness of his eyes. How easily he could overpower her and take her, she thought suddenly. She'd have no choice but to let him do what he wished to her.

There would be no way to stop him—and then it wouldn't be her fault and she'd never have to admit how badly she wanted him, not even to herself.

Her lashes fell to her cheeks.

T
his was madness! Was the fantasy of being taken against her will easier to face than reality? Yes, she thought, yes, it was, because the reality was that she
did
want him, she'd wanted him from the start. And the shame of that wanting, the pain of it, was more than she could bear.

How could she want a man who'd been bought for her, a man she'd never see again after they reached the States?

"Elena?"

Blake's voice was like raw honey. Her eyes opened slowly and focused on him, on that hard mouth that had kissed her with such tenderness, on eyes that could be as cold as the sea or as deep as midnight, and her breathing quickened. He whispered her name again.

"Put your arms around me," he said huskily.

"No." But, even as she whispered the word, her arms reached up to him. "Tomorrow..."

His eyes darkened. "The hell with tomorrow," he said fiercely. "This is now."

His mouth came down on hers, searing her with heat.
His kiss deepened. The taste of him made her tremble; when his tongue found hers, she moaned and wound her arms around his neck, reveling in the hard strength of his body against hers.

"Elena, sweet Elena," he whispered.

She gasped as his fingers blazed a fiery path over her breasts and down her ribs, lingering on the curve of her belly, then moving to stroke her thighs. As if from a distance, she heard herself whisper his name, and the sound was caught in his kiss, returned to her on the moist warmth of his breath. Her mouth clung to his as her body stirred to life beneath his caresses.

Blake drew back and looked at her. "My Princess," he whispered, "my beautiful Elena."

In the smoky light of the fire, his features were a mask, highlighted by glints of amber and gold. Their eyes met and held; time stopped in that breathless moment. And then Blake gathered her to him again and captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss. Elena moaned as his tongue moved like a flame along the curve of her mouth.

"Your mouth is like nectar," he murmured
. "And your body—God, your body..."

She was
drowning in a velvet sea of sensation. His whispers, his caresses, the feel of him in her arms—Elena knew suddenly that she had waited a lifetime for this night. She sighed his name, and then her fingers tangled in the thick, silky hair at the back of his head and she drew him to her.

"Elena..." His hand slid down her throat, pausing at the pulse beating rapidly in the shadowed hollow, then moved gently to the swell of her breast. "Tell me you want me to touch you," he said raggedly. "Tell me."

Her answer was as quick and fierce as his kisses. "Yes," she said, "yes, touch me."

He groaned as his mouth swooped to hers, taking it with a ferocity that set her blood blazing. His hand cupped her breast, and she felt her nipple leap to meet his questing palm.

"Like this?"

Her eyes closed. "That feels," she whispered, "it feels..."

"Yes," he said, "yes, sweet Elena." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently. "Now, you," he whispered, bringing her hand to his chest.

Her fingers slid into the open neck of his shirt; his head fell back as her hand moved across his heated skin, and he murmured her name. She watched the pleasure on his face, lost in wonder that her touch could do to him what his did to her. His eyes closed and his lashes lay dark against his golden skin; his mouth narrowed as if the feathering stroke of her hand brought him pain. And then, suddenly, he reached for her and drew her to him fiercely, wrapping her in his arms as he kissed her.

There was a question in his kiss, and his lips on hers searched for the answer. Her hands moved up his chest, to his shoulders, and suddenly the answer was in her heart.
Blake,
she thought with shattering clarity,
Blake, I love you...

His mouth sought hers again, this time demanding response, and she looked at him, letting him read her surrender in her eyes.

His hands were on the buttons of her shirt, and she stirred languidly as he parted the soft fabric and eased it from her shoulders. The fire was warm on her skin, its smoky fragrance mingling with the fresh scent of rain from the forest. But nothing was as warm as the feel of Blake's hands, nothing was as intoxicating as the smell of him as he gathered her into his arms.

His mouth descended on hers, hard, hungry and filled with need. She clung to him in a sudden flood of desire. Then, fingers trembling, she fumbled at the buttons of his shirt and drew it back from his chest.

"I want to feel you against me," she said in a whisper. "Is that all right?"

"Jesus," he groaned, and he brought her up to him, his arms binding her to his body.

The feel of his skin against hers made her gasp with pleasure. There was a dark, fine mat of hair on his chest; the sensation of it against her breasts sent a tremor through her.

"Blake," she sighed, "Blake..."

There was so much more to tell him, but his name was all she could manage. And it seemed enough; his kisses moved from her lips to her eyelids to her hair as his hands moved on her skin, caressing, touching, learning her secrets.

She gasped as his hand cupped her naked breast, capturing its soft, swollen curve against the heat of his palm. His thumb moved across the nipple; she cried out again and turned towards him, seeking his kiss, her fingers curling into the thick hair at the nape of his neck.

She sank back in his arms as he whispered to her, as he touched her, as he caressed her with growing abandon. Her clothes fell away from her as if by magic; she felt the heat of the fire flicker over her naked flesh. Somewhere in the distance there was the sound of rain, but it was all part of a dream.

The only reality was Blake's lovemaking.

"My Princess," he murmured as he trailed his hand along her skin, the heat of his fingers igniting her until she moaned beneath his touch and moved blindly against his hand. Still, when his fingers cupped the dark triangle of her innocence, she caught his hand and held it, trepidation in her eyes.

"Blake?" Her voice was a silken whisper, question and answer all at once.

"Don't be afraid of me, Princess," he whispered, and then he drew her nipple into his mouth.

She called out his name as the moist heat of his mouth surrounded her swollen flesh. Her body quickened beneath his teeth and tongue, smoky waves of desire spreading through her, radiating from her breast to her loins. She cried out again and Blake drew her into his embrace, kissing her with a ferocity that left her trembling.

Fireglow
danced on his skin as he rose to his knees and stripped off his shirt.

"Elena," he whispered, and she sighed and reached out to him, touching him as she had longed to touch him that night in the Indian village, trailing her hand down the narrowing dark line of hair that bisected his chest.

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the soft underside of her wrist. Then he stood, his eyes on hers as he unzipped his jeans and eased them down his hips. Her mind jumped to Margarita's sour warnings, to her schoolmates' furtive whispers. But there was no time to think or to wonder; Blake was beside her again, kissing her, touching her, and she was caught up in the fever of their passion.

"Elena," he said thickly,
"mi amante..."

Her head fell back as his hands moved slowly over her, lingering on her breasts, on the slight rounding of her belly, and when his fingers tangled in the silken dampness between her thighs, she clasped his hand and held it against her, trembling beneath the power of that gentle touch.

"Yes," he whispered, and his mouth followed the path his hands had left, his kisses hot against her flesh. And when finally his lips found the hidden delta that was the very center of her, she sobbed with pleasure.

"Now," he said, and he moved against her, "now, sweet Princess."

She whispered his name as he cupped her buttocks and lifted her to him. Her muscles tensed at the sudden invasion and he held back, waiting while her body closed around him. Then, ready for a release she barely understood, she trembled in his arms.

"Please," she whispered.

A smile of triumph flashed across his face. "Yes," he said fiercely, "yes."

And just before the world fell away from her, just before Blake took her to the summit of a sunlit mountain and the fleeting moment of immortality that awaited her there, she thought of Margarita and the girls who had whispered in the night, and she sorrowed for them all.

* * *

Elena's eyes opened slowly as a searching finger of sunlight pierced the cave's gloom. A quick glance told her she was alone in the cave, and she stretched languorously, smiling a little as she remembered the night. Blake had made love to her again and again, each time more wonderful than the last. And then, finally, he'd curved his arm around her and brought her head to his chest.

"Sleep for a while, Princess," he'd whispered. "It's almost tomorrow."

The words had knifed into her heart. Tomorrow, she'd thought, tomorrow... and then her lashes had fluttered to her cheeks and she'd fallen into a dreamless sleep.

It was morning now—all too soon, tomorrow had arrived. No, she thought, no, not yet. There would be another tomorrow, at least—they were still miles from the border. That meant there was time...

"Good morning."

She looked up, startled by the sound of Blake's voice. He was standing in the entrance to the cave, and she had the sudden feeling he'd been watching her for long minutes.