Free Midnight Flame by Lynette Vinet Page B

of water streamed freely down Laurel’s face, nearly blinding her. Her hair was plastered to her head, as were her clothes against her body. But she realized these discomforts were nothing to the tortures this man probably planned for her. Yet she must quell her fear and concentrate if she hoped to escape alive and tell the authorities.
    Quieting down and being forced to lean unwillingly against her kidnapper’s hard chest, a musky male scent assailed her nostrils. She found his scent disturbing, strangely familiar, but it was the slight smell of alcohol upon his breath that made the most impression upon her. Was it brandy? A not unpleasant whiff stirred past her nose, and she recognized it as Napoleon’s brandy, a liquor her father had drunk many times. Such an expensive drink seemed somehow out of character with the highwayman behind her. Another, more disturbing scent made an impression upon her. There was a lingering trace of wood-smoke about him.
    A shiver of fear coursed through her again when she felt the horse change direction. No longer were they on the side road. Now they were gingerly making their way through an area filled with palmetto. The bayou? She practically choked on her fear. She would never survive here. Or did this man intend her to survive at all?
    The rain had slackened. Low overhanging vines became visible when a sliver of a moon appeared from behind a cloud. Moss-draped trees dripped steady drops of water onto the ground. From far off the growl of a panther cut through the night, followed by the cry of its victim. Laurel compared herself to the hapless creature and the man behind her to the panther. She was the prey who had just been snared by the hunter .
    The thought occurred to her that she might bargain for her freedom. He must be desperate to have kidnapped her. Perhaps money was what he wanted, and she had plenty of that. She must swallow her fear and speak to him, to make him believe she wasn’t at his mercy, although she knew very well that she was. As much as she had wanted to flee Duvalier earlier, she now wished she had never foolishly run away. At least, she would have been safe at Petit Coteau. She felt no security in this man’s arms.
    Turning her face slightly to the right, she glanced up at him, but was unable to discern anything behind the slits in his hood. However, she felt his gaze upon her and wondered if he had been watching her for a long time to gauge her reaction.
    “Kidnapping me will avail you nothing. I haven’t any money on me.” Damn! Did her voice sound as terrified to him as it did to her? She must hide her fear. “But if you will take me to my hotel, I’ll get you some.” There. That sounded better, more confident he would have a change of heart and release her. “Take me back, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
    Laurel winced when a bitter laugh escaped him, his scorn evident in its rich timbre. His wet hand snaked below the neckline of her blouse and gently massaged a pouting nipple. Did she imagine that his eyes blazed with a fire behind his hood?
    “I want no money,” he whispered raspily. “The treasure I seek is within my arms.”
    His meaning was clear. He intended to ravish her. For some unaccountable reason, he wanted her, not money.
    A warm hand still caressed her breast, swirling the nipple between his fingers and triggering a melting sensation within her not unlike that which she had experienced in Duvalier’s arms earlier. What was wrong with her? she asked herself. Was she a wanton, eager for any man who touched her?
    “Don’t do that,” she entreated.
    “What?” he whispered against her ear.
    “Touch me like that!”
    “I think you like my hands upon you.”
    His voice was so husky and low she barely heard him, but his intentions were obvious. This dark-clad stranger was going to have his way with her, and all her protests would avail her nothing. He had her at his mercy in this wild and untamed setting. True to his word,