to the men below. "You're forgetting something, aren't you? I have Miss McKnight."
There was a pause, filled with the furtive hush of the jungle around them. Granger said, "You're bluffing. You wouldn't hurt her. I know you, Jack."
"You knew me." He waited, as if giving time for his words to sink in. Then he said, "I'm standing up now, Simon, and I'm bringing Miss McKnight with me, which means that anyone trying to take off my head is liable to take hers, too. And did I mention she has a machete dangerously close to her throat?"
India tried to hang back, but his grip on her tightened brutally, drawing her up with him, the sharp edge of the machete close enough that she could feel the cold bite of it against her skin. She let out a little whimper of protest, which was all she could manage. Her fear was like a suffocating weight, stealing her breath, squeezing her chest.
She could see them now on the narrow trail just below, Captain Granger, his hand clenched in furious impotence around the pommel of the sword at his side, and six seamen, their rifles pointed unwaveringly at India and the man who held her. For one unbearable moment, Ryder and the captain simply stared at each other, and it seemed to India that the very air between the two men vibrated with the violent intensity of their emotions. She was aware of the rise and fall of Ryder's hard chest against her back, the warmth of his breath against her neck, the power of the dark, muscular arm that pressed against her breasts and held her pinned back against him.
"Tell your men to lower their rifles. Now," Ryder added sharply when the seamen continued to hold their guns at the ready.
Granger turned his head, the muscles in his lean cheek bunching tight. "At ease, men."
Six muzzles lowered, and India remembered to breathe.
The two men's gazes met again, and clashed.
"Now tell them to lay down their guns."
The tall blond captain's hard stare never wavered. "Do it," he said out the corner of his mouth.
"Nice and easy," added Ryder, his hand shifting on the handle of the machete at India's throat. "I'm a very nervous man. Somebody startles me, and Miss McKnight here might end up with a nasty gash in her neck."
It was said for effect, of course; the fiend who held her was neither nervous nor easily startled, and India knew it. In another situation, she might even have admired his calm coolness. But she also had no doubts about his ruthlessness. He wouldn't hesitate to spill her blood if he thought he needed to. The seamen carefully laid down their guns, and she let out a soft, relieved sigh.
"Now step back. You, too, Simon. That's right, gentlemen, keep moving. There, that'll do." His voice had changed, taking on a vaguely rollicking tone that puzzled her until he said, "Now, gentlemen, you're going to take off your clothes."
The fair-haired captain was so startled, he jerked, while behind him, the seamen murmured and exchanged wary looks.
"That's right," said Ryder. "Don't everyone rush to strip off all at the same time. We're going to do it one by one. Starting with you, Simon."
The tall Englishman gave a curt, mirthless laugh, and crossed his arms at his chest in a blatantly defiant pose. "Over my dead body."
"A laudable attitude, I'm sure. But you're forgetting Miss McKnight's throat." The man behind her shifted and India felt the blade bite, a gasp escaping her lips before she could press them tightly together. "What would the Admiralty have to say about that, hmmm?"
Granger's teeth clenched. "You bastard."
"Just start with your sword, Simon. Easy," Ryder added warningly as the captain moved with seething resentment to comply. "Now throw it over that cliff."
For a moment, Granger hesitated, then sent the sword sailing out into space. India could hear it clanging and bouncing on the rocks below.
"Now your jacket."
It wasn't until the captain was unbuttoning his shirt with quick, jerky movements that India thought to squeeze her eyes shut out of
There was a pause, filled with the furtive hush of the jungle around them. Granger said, "You're bluffing. You wouldn't hurt her. I know you, Jack."
"You knew me." He waited, as if giving time for his words to sink in. Then he said, "I'm standing up now, Simon, and I'm bringing Miss McKnight with me, which means that anyone trying to take off my head is liable to take hers, too. And did I mention she has a machete dangerously close to her throat?"
India tried to hang back, but his grip on her tightened brutally, drawing her up with him, the sharp edge of the machete close enough that she could feel the cold bite of it against her skin. She let out a little whimper of protest, which was all she could manage. Her fear was like a suffocating weight, stealing her breath, squeezing her chest.
She could see them now on the narrow trail just below, Captain Granger, his hand clenched in furious impotence around the pommel of the sword at his side, and six seamen, their rifles pointed unwaveringly at India and the man who held her. For one unbearable moment, Ryder and the captain simply stared at each other, and it seemed to India that the very air between the two men vibrated with the violent intensity of their emotions. She was aware of the rise and fall of Ryder's hard chest against her back, the warmth of his breath against her neck, the power of the dark, muscular arm that pressed against her breasts and held her pinned back against him.
"Tell your men to lower their rifles. Now," Ryder added sharply when the seamen continued to hold their guns at the ready.
Granger turned his head, the muscles in his lean cheek bunching tight. "At ease, men."
Six muzzles lowered, and India remembered to breathe.
The two men's gazes met again, and clashed.
"Now tell them to lay down their guns."
The tall blond captain's hard stare never wavered. "Do it," he said out the corner of his mouth.
"Nice and easy," added Ryder, his hand shifting on the handle of the machete at India's throat. "I'm a very nervous man. Somebody startles me, and Miss McKnight here might end up with a nasty gash in her neck."
It was said for effect, of course; the fiend who held her was neither nervous nor easily startled, and India knew it. In another situation, she might even have admired his calm coolness. But she also had no doubts about his ruthlessness. He wouldn't hesitate to spill her blood if he thought he needed to. The seamen carefully laid down their guns, and she let out a soft, relieved sigh.
"Now step back. You, too, Simon. That's right, gentlemen, keep moving. There, that'll do." His voice had changed, taking on a vaguely rollicking tone that puzzled her until he said, "Now, gentlemen, you're going to take off your clothes."
The fair-haired captain was so startled, he jerked, while behind him, the seamen murmured and exchanged wary looks.
"That's right," said Ryder. "Don't everyone rush to strip off all at the same time. We're going to do it one by one. Starting with you, Simon."
The tall Englishman gave a curt, mirthless laugh, and crossed his arms at his chest in a blatantly defiant pose. "Over my dead body."
"A laudable attitude, I'm sure. But you're forgetting Miss McKnight's throat." The man behind her shifted and India felt the blade bite, a gasp escaping her lips before she could press them tightly together. "What would the Admiralty have to say about that, hmmm?"
Granger's teeth clenched. "You bastard."
"Just start with your sword, Simon. Easy," Ryder added warningly as the captain moved with seething resentment to comply. "Now throw it over that cliff."
For a moment, Granger hesitated, then sent the sword sailing out into space. India could hear it clanging and bouncing on the rocks below.
"Now your jacket."
It wasn't until the captain was unbuttoning his shirt with quick, jerky movements that India thought to squeeze her eyes shut out of
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