Read Online Tempestuous Eden by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heather Graham
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was being watched, and not by a happy observer.
Craig was part of the whispered rustle of the brush again—a voyeur in pain. It had been bad the first day he had come upon her, but nothing compared to the misery he felt now. He knew the woman now, he longed for the total person—the mind, spirit, and essence of her—not merely her tantalizing body.
He spent his entire time frozen in the foliage with his every muscle taut, his mouth a grim line.
Too much of this will drive me over the brink, he thought bitterly. God! And the woman couldn’t possibly imagine that her every movement was a study in fluid grace, that her simplest motion was a lesson in sensuality. He tried to close his eyes each day as she rose like a Venus from the water, drops cascading down the tanned silk of her flawless skin, sometimes hovering with enticement upon a rose nipple, then falling like crystal prisms. But closing his eyes didn’t help. Her form was ingrained upon the lids—beautiful full breasts, firm above the slender midriff, hand-spandable waist, and slimly shadowed hips. Shadowed, wonderful, mysterious … beguiling.
She didn’t know the torture her daily bath inflicted.
But he had to follow her to the stream, just as he had to watch her constantly.
Usually it was easy. They worked closely in the compound, and once he knew her itinerary for the day, his “baby-sitting,” as he had once termed it, was a breeze. The vacation the chief had promised. And it hardly bothered him to watch her as she worked. He enjoyed it. He felt he came to know her more each day by watching as well as talking during the evenings. He loved to see the concerned, serious knit to her brow when confronted with a problem, the smile slash her face with infinite warmth and beauty when she worked with the children.
Actually he loved watching her at the stream, but that was part of his misery. He cared too much for her to spy on her unawares; he wanted to see her so, free and easy in the water, but he wanted her to know that he was there. He wanted her revelry to be with him, for him.
It could be so, he told himself, then gritted his teeth harder. She was Huntington’s daughter; he was on an assignment. And for the first time in his life he couldn’t grasp pleasure for the easy sake of pleasure. He didn’t dare define what he was feeling, but it was there.
And he could control himself, so he would. He wouldn’t repeat the mistake he had made the very first day—that of allowing himself to be seduced out of control by the sweet trust that she seemed so willing to give him.
And so he was doomed to unhappy voyeurism. She had to be watched at the stream. If there were to be an attempt at abduction, this would be the perfect time and place. She was often alone here, far from the others, far from the compound.
Taking a deep breath, Craig followed her back through the quickly falling darkness to the compound. Right at the outskirts he changed his pattern, appearing to come from the opposite direction. He managed to reach the fire with her simultaneously.
“Hi,” he greeted both her and Kate, but his eyes were for Blair. He made no attempt to hide his admiration, but he was glad she didn’t know the extent of that admiration.
Blair smiled, wondering how he could show so much with his extraordinary eyes while still showing absolutely nothing.
“Coffee?” Kate was the one to return his friendly greeting.
“Surely, thank you.” Craig accepted a steaming tin from her and ruffled her hair. Blair was surprised at the jealousy the meaningless companionable little gesture created within her. Not a spiteful jealousy—Kate was her friend and dead honest. It was a peculiar spurt of envy; she didn’t receive enough of Craig’s touch herself to feel generosity with his bestowing it on another.
The moment was over quickly. Craig turned back to Blair. “May I presume on dinner this evening, Ms. Morgan?”
Blair shrugged but she couldn’t conceal her wry
Craig was part of the whispered rustle of the brush again—a voyeur in pain. It had been bad the first day he had come upon her, but nothing compared to the misery he felt now. He knew the woman now, he longed for the total person—the mind, spirit, and essence of her—not merely her tantalizing body.
He spent his entire time frozen in the foliage with his every muscle taut, his mouth a grim line.
Too much of this will drive me over the brink, he thought bitterly. God! And the woman couldn’t possibly imagine that her every movement was a study in fluid grace, that her simplest motion was a lesson in sensuality. He tried to close his eyes each day as she rose like a Venus from the water, drops cascading down the tanned silk of her flawless skin, sometimes hovering with enticement upon a rose nipple, then falling like crystal prisms. But closing his eyes didn’t help. Her form was ingrained upon the lids—beautiful full breasts, firm above the slender midriff, hand-spandable waist, and slimly shadowed hips. Shadowed, wonderful, mysterious … beguiling.
She didn’t know the torture her daily bath inflicted.
But he had to follow her to the stream, just as he had to watch her constantly.
Usually it was easy. They worked closely in the compound, and once he knew her itinerary for the day, his “baby-sitting,” as he had once termed it, was a breeze. The vacation the chief had promised. And it hardly bothered him to watch her as she worked. He enjoyed it. He felt he came to know her more each day by watching as well as talking during the evenings. He loved to see the concerned, serious knit to her brow when confronted with a problem, the smile slash her face with infinite warmth and beauty when she worked with the children.
Actually he loved watching her at the stream, but that was part of his misery. He cared too much for her to spy on her unawares; he wanted to see her so, free and easy in the water, but he wanted her to know that he was there. He wanted her revelry to be with him, for him.
It could be so, he told himself, then gritted his teeth harder. She was Huntington’s daughter; he was on an assignment. And for the first time in his life he couldn’t grasp pleasure for the easy sake of pleasure. He didn’t dare define what he was feeling, but it was there.
And he could control himself, so he would. He wouldn’t repeat the mistake he had made the very first day—that of allowing himself to be seduced out of control by the sweet trust that she seemed so willing to give him.
And so he was doomed to unhappy voyeurism. She had to be watched at the stream. If there were to be an attempt at abduction, this would be the perfect time and place. She was often alone here, far from the others, far from the compound.
Taking a deep breath, Craig followed her back through the quickly falling darkness to the compound. Right at the outskirts he changed his pattern, appearing to come from the opposite direction. He managed to reach the fire with her simultaneously.
“Hi,” he greeted both her and Kate, but his eyes were for Blair. He made no attempt to hide his admiration, but he was glad she didn’t know the extent of that admiration.
Blair smiled, wondering how he could show so much with his extraordinary eyes while still showing absolutely nothing.
“Coffee?” Kate was the one to return his friendly greeting.
“Surely, thank you.” Craig accepted a steaming tin from her and ruffled her hair. Blair was surprised at the jealousy the meaningless companionable little gesture created within her. Not a spiteful jealousy—Kate was her friend and dead honest. It was a peculiar spurt of envy; she didn’t receive enough of Craig’s touch herself to feel generosity with his bestowing it on another.
The moment was over quickly. Craig turned back to Blair. “May I presume on dinner this evening, Ms. Morgan?”
Blair shrugged but she couldn’t conceal her wry
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