Wild Fire
Page 76
Did Alberto know? Surely he hadn’t deliberately sent her out looking, hoping she’d make the discovery. Was it possible he had his own agenda? That he wasn’t the sweet old gentleman he appeared to be? But what could be accomplished by her discovering a dead body in Philip Sobre’s private garden? This place was horrible and she wanted out of it as fast as she could go.
She made herself walk, not run, heading back toward the old man. Glancing over her shoulder for one last look at the burial ground, she hit something hard. Two hands caught her arms in a firm grip, steadying her, and the scent of an aroused male assailed her nostrils. She recognized him instantly. Ottila Zorba, one of the rogue leopards, and he was looking at her with a leopard’s focused gaze—as prey. He stared down at her without smiling and slowly, almost reluctantly, released her.
Isabeau forced a small smile. “Hello. I didn’t see you there. I should have been looking where I was going.” She took a step as though she would go around him, but he glided in that fluid, silent way of leopards, cutting off her escape. He was a good- looking man, very muscular, with a raw-boned face and a firm, attractive mouth.
Isabeau felt a familiar itch running under her skin. Her cat stretched sensuously and all at once her body felt sensitive and achy, coiling tight in need. She had the sudden urge to rub herself all over his very masculine body.
Don’t you dare! she threatened her cat. I thought you didn’t like him.
It was hot in the garden, too hot. Her skin felt too tight. Her nipples peaked and rubbed against her bra. She felt sweat bead and then trickle down the valley between her breasts. She raised a hand to sweep back the heavy fall of hair spilling around her face. She was so sensitive that just the touch almost burned her skin, like the lick of a tongue. She swallowed and caught him staring at her throat with hunger in his eyes. The action of bringing up her hand to her hair was seductive. Had she done it on purpose? It brought attention to her breasts and beaded nipples.
Her cat moved, an alluring enticement, meant to tempt any male in her vicinity to help her mate prove to her she was choosing the right partner. Isabeau knew exactly what the hussy was doing too. She hissed, trying to show her displeasure to the male.
“You shouldn’t have come out here unescorted.”
“I’m not alone,” Isabeau hastened to point out. “I’m here with Imelda’s grandfather and his personal protector.”
“An old man and his weak bodyguard? You think that’s enough to stop me from taking what I want?”
She sent a quick, furtive glance toward the forest to see if Jeremiah had a clear shot. He didn’t. Not unless he’d moved position. She moistened her lips. “I’m not ready.”
“But you’re close.” Ottila moved his head toward her, the slow freeze-frame motion of a large hunting cat, and inhaled her, taking her charismatic scent into his lungs. “Very close.” He reached out and ran his finger across her breast.
Her cat went insane, throwing herself forward, shrieking a protest, drowning out Isabeau’s fear and replacing it with rage. She leapt back, swinging at him, claws bursting, skin burning as stiletto claws burst through her fingers and raked his arm. No male leopard touched a female until she was ready, even she knew that.
“Keep your hands to yourself.” The claws were gone that quick, leaving her hands aching and feeling swollen.
Blood dripped down his arm. He looked at the claw marks and then smiled at her. “You marked me, Isabeau.” Deliberately he hissed her name with a possessive curl of his lip.
“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you for touching me,” she snapped. “You have no manners.”
“I’m leopard. Same as you.”
“And I’m protected. You touch me and even your boss will want you dead because my people will demand your head on a platter.”
“She’s only my boss as long as I want to work for her. And those men should know better than to let you wander around unprotected.” He reached for her belly, undeterred by the claw marks on his arm, settling his palm over her womb. “My child will grow here.”
She slapped his arm away a second time and retreated a couple of steps, trying to get out into the open, facing the trees where she was certain Jeremiah waited with his rifle.
13
“WHAT happened to your face?” Imelda asked as she caught up with Conner. He walked directly behind Philip as the man led the way to his private den. “You look as if you had a fight with a large cat.” Her voice shook with excitement. She reached out as she kept pace to touch one of the long scars.
Conner caught her wrist and pulled her hand down. “I did. A leopard.”
He felt her shiver. “Really? How frightening.”
He shrugged. “It happened. I’m alive.” He stepped in front of her, cutting her off before she could enter the room. “Wait here until I give the okay.”
Her eyes glittered. “I’m not used to taking orders.”
“Then your men aren’t doing their job,” he said and turned his back on her.
Philip held the door open and Conner went through, followed by Rio. Felipe and Leonardo stayed with Elijah and Marcos. Their movements were coordinated and efficient and no one spoke. Elijah and Marcos paid no attention, used to their team sweeping rooms. Imelda pressed her hand to her heaving breast.
“How long have you employed him?” she asked Marcos.
Marcos frowned. “Conner? Several years. He’s a good man. I knew his family.” Her leopards were nowhere close to smell the lie. Her security team had made their show and now, feeling comfortable in Philip’s house, they’d scattered throughout the rooms to let the crowd know she was an important person and they were keeping an eye on everything. She had one guard, and he wasn’t leopard.
She made herself walk, not run, heading back toward the old man. Glancing over her shoulder for one last look at the burial ground, she hit something hard. Two hands caught her arms in a firm grip, steadying her, and the scent of an aroused male assailed her nostrils. She recognized him instantly. Ottila Zorba, one of the rogue leopards, and he was looking at her with a leopard’s focused gaze—as prey. He stared down at her without smiling and slowly, almost reluctantly, released her.
Isabeau forced a small smile. “Hello. I didn’t see you there. I should have been looking where I was going.” She took a step as though she would go around him, but he glided in that fluid, silent way of leopards, cutting off her escape. He was a good- looking man, very muscular, with a raw-boned face and a firm, attractive mouth.
Isabeau felt a familiar itch running under her skin. Her cat stretched sensuously and all at once her body felt sensitive and achy, coiling tight in need. She had the sudden urge to rub herself all over his very masculine body.
Don’t you dare! she threatened her cat. I thought you didn’t like him.
It was hot in the garden, too hot. Her skin felt too tight. Her nipples peaked and rubbed against her bra. She felt sweat bead and then trickle down the valley between her breasts. She raised a hand to sweep back the heavy fall of hair spilling around her face. She was so sensitive that just the touch almost burned her skin, like the lick of a tongue. She swallowed and caught him staring at her throat with hunger in his eyes. The action of bringing up her hand to her hair was seductive. Had she done it on purpose? It brought attention to her breasts and beaded nipples.
Her cat moved, an alluring enticement, meant to tempt any male in her vicinity to help her mate prove to her she was choosing the right partner. Isabeau knew exactly what the hussy was doing too. She hissed, trying to show her displeasure to the male.
“You shouldn’t have come out here unescorted.”
“I’m not alone,” Isabeau hastened to point out. “I’m here with Imelda’s grandfather and his personal protector.”
“An old man and his weak bodyguard? You think that’s enough to stop me from taking what I want?”
She sent a quick, furtive glance toward the forest to see if Jeremiah had a clear shot. He didn’t. Not unless he’d moved position. She moistened her lips. “I’m not ready.”
“But you’re close.” Ottila moved his head toward her, the slow freeze-frame motion of a large hunting cat, and inhaled her, taking her charismatic scent into his lungs. “Very close.” He reached out and ran his finger across her breast.
Her cat went insane, throwing herself forward, shrieking a protest, drowning out Isabeau’s fear and replacing it with rage. She leapt back, swinging at him, claws bursting, skin burning as stiletto claws burst through her fingers and raked his arm. No male leopard touched a female until she was ready, even she knew that.
“Keep your hands to yourself.” The claws were gone that quick, leaving her hands aching and feeling swollen.
Blood dripped down his arm. He looked at the claw marks and then smiled at her. “You marked me, Isabeau.” Deliberately he hissed her name with a possessive curl of his lip.
“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you for touching me,” she snapped. “You have no manners.”
“I’m leopard. Same as you.”
“And I’m protected. You touch me and even your boss will want you dead because my people will demand your head on a platter.”
“She’s only my boss as long as I want to work for her. And those men should know better than to let you wander around unprotected.” He reached for her belly, undeterred by the claw marks on his arm, settling his palm over her womb. “My child will grow here.”
She slapped his arm away a second time and retreated a couple of steps, trying to get out into the open, facing the trees where she was certain Jeremiah waited with his rifle.
13
“WHAT happened to your face?” Imelda asked as she caught up with Conner. He walked directly behind Philip as the man led the way to his private den. “You look as if you had a fight with a large cat.” Her voice shook with excitement. She reached out as she kept pace to touch one of the long scars.
Conner caught her wrist and pulled her hand down. “I did. A leopard.”
He felt her shiver. “Really? How frightening.”
He shrugged. “It happened. I’m alive.” He stepped in front of her, cutting her off before she could enter the room. “Wait here until I give the okay.”
Her eyes glittered. “I’m not used to taking orders.”
“Then your men aren’t doing their job,” he said and turned his back on her.
Philip held the door open and Conner went through, followed by Rio. Felipe and Leonardo stayed with Elijah and Marcos. Their movements were coordinated and efficient and no one spoke. Elijah and Marcos paid no attention, used to their team sweeping rooms. Imelda pressed her hand to her heaving breast.
“How long have you employed him?” she asked Marcos.
Marcos frowned. “Conner? Several years. He’s a good man. I knew his family.” Her leopards were nowhere close to smell the lie. Her security team had made their show and now, feeling comfortable in Philip’s house, they’d scattered throughout the rooms to let the crowd know she was an important person and they were keeping an eye on everything. She had one guard, and he wasn’t leopard.
