Free Beyond Sunrise by Candice Proctor

taking her by the elbow and propelling her with gentle insistence down the path, "is move. Very quickly."
    She removed her elbow from his grasp, but kept walking. "And precisely what is our destination?"
    "La Rochelle."
    "La Rochelle?" She stopped abruptly and swung to face him. "But... that will take days."
    "Two, by my reckoning. If we move it."
    "Two?" She drew back her shoulders and crossed her arms beneath her impressive breasts in the manner of a Valkyrie preparing to do battle. All she needed was a sword and a skull cup flowing with mead, Jack thought, and the image would have been complete. "I'm not going."
    Jack eyed the statuesque, strong-jawed woman before him. A smaller, weaker female he might have bullied, but this one was almost as tall as he was—besides which, he didn't think anyone had ever successfully bullied Miss India McKnight in her life. He tried a different tack. "You want me to leave you here, do you? Alone?"
    "I am not afraid of being alone."
    "You're forgetting about the cannibals."
    Her lip curled in scorn. He'd known men who could do that, but never a woman. "Do you really think me such a fool as to fall for that tale twice?"
    "Tale? You think it's a tale? And who do you think left that footprint?" He jabbed a pointed finger toward a muddy patch on the trail, where the imprint made by a bare human foot showed clearly.
    "Obviously, one of those poor unfortunate men you forced to disrobe."
    "Their feet were bare going down the hill, not up it."
    She gazed at him with cool disbelief. "You realized you might need a hostage, and—"
    "A hostage?" Jack leaned into her. "Bloody hell. If I hadn't been so bloody worried about you getting yourself eaten, I wouldn't need a hostage now."
    He swung away from her, his head falling back, his gaze taking in a whirl of vibrant, tangled greenery before he spun back suddenly to pin her with a hard, suspicious stare. "Exactly what do you think I'm planning to do to you, anyway? Drag you off into the jungle and rape you?"
    He watched a flush of maidenly modesty color her cheeks, her breath hitching in an unmistakable betrayal of fear.
    "Jesus. You do." He set his jaw, one pointed finger coming up to waggle beneath her thin nose. "Well, let me tell you something, lady. I'm not that hard up. This is the bloody South Pacific, remember? These islands are full of naked, willing women. A man doesn't need to resort to kidnap and rape to get a little around here." He paused, his gaze sweeping over her to linger just a shade longer than he meant it to on her full, heaving breasts. "And even if I did, I wouldn't pick some frigid, supercilious, bloody-minded Englishwoman!"
    She stared at him, her color becomingly high, her breath coming hard and fast through parted lips. But all she said was "I am Scottish, not English."
    A breeze blew up suddenly, rustling the leafy canopy overhead with a movement that must have brought down a coconut somewhere nearby, for the crash of it echoed and reechoed through the jungle. Jack threw a quick glance up at the patch of sky just visible through the overarching mass of branches. From the sounds of things, there was a squall blowing in. Smothering a crude oath, he drew his machete from its scabbard and straightened his arm until the point rested against India McKnight's breast, just above her heart. "Look, Miss McKnight, I don't give a rat's ass if you're English, Scottish, or Transylvanian. Just move."
    She went a shade paler, but she didn't move. "You're bluffing. If you kill me, you won't have a hostage, so what would be the point?"
    "You willing to bet your life on that?"
    They stared at each other. The wind died, and in the sudden stillness the steamy heat seemed more oppressive than ever. He watched a bead of sweat form on her forehead and roll down her temple. Just when he thought she was going to call his bluff, after all, she blinked and looked away.
    "Very well, Mr. Ryder. You may put away your machete." Turning on her heel, she