Enticed by Ecstasy (Wicked Treasures) (3 page)

It surprised him that she didn’t mind getting her skirts dirty.
 
And he didn’t like being surprised.
 
Channing turned his thoughts to the next few weeks as he screwed the cap onto the canteen.

He started to move off a little ways when a ripple in the water caught his eye.
 
In a blink, he grabbed Abigail by the waist and jerked her backwards just as a massive crocodile lunged out of the water at her.

Channing took the brunt of the fall before rolling her over onto her back.
 
He glanced over his shoulder, but the crocodile had decided to stay in the water rather than going after them.

His heart pounded heavily in his chest as he turned back to look into Abigail’s exotic, pale blue gaze.
 
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and the hands holding onto his arms shook.

In the next instant, he registered the soft curves supporting his weight.
 
His balls tightened in response.

No!
 
Not this woman.

He cleared his throat and tried to clear his head as he rolled away to stand.
 
He offered her his hand to help her rise, which she refused.
 
“I warned you about the crocodiles.”

She sat up and looked at the water a moment before moving to her knees and then to her feet.
 
“Thank you for saving me.”

Channing watched her, waiting for her to say more, and when she didn’t, he started in the direction of the camp.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the feel of her body out of his mind.
 
And for a just a moment, he had found himself wanting to know the taste of her lips.

Chapter Three

Abby had never been so frightened in her life.
 
Even now she couldn’t stop shaking.
 
If Channing hadn’t been there, the crocodile would have gotten her.
 
She shuddered and made herself put one foot in front of the other.

Sure, she had read books on Africa before she decided to travel to such a wild country, but she had foolishly thought she would be out of danger.
 
Africa looked beautiful and untouchable atop the elephant.
 
But on foot, Africa showed Abby numerous dangers she would be lucky to survive.

The handsome man in front of her notwithstanding, Abby had a feeling Africa would very well be the death of her.

Her gaze shifted to Channing St. John.
 
He was a man who women took notice of.

So, when he had rescued her and his hard body had settled atop her, Abby forgot all about her near-death experience as she looked up into Channing’s coffee-colored eyes.
 
His normally hard, cold eyes had softened, heated for just a heartbeat.

That had been all it took to send Abby’s blood to pumping furiously.
 
Why such a rude, ill-mannered brute could make her blood sing so, she had no idea.
 
And she wished with all her might he didn’t affect her.

Her body was drained after the fright with the crocodile and then her reaction to Channing.
 
Combine each of those with walking in the oppressive heat for several hours, and all she wanted to do was fall to the ground.

But she refused to complain or ask Channing to stop.
 
She would keep trudging along, matching him step for step until her body gave out or one of the many predators happened to catch her.

She was so focused on staying upright that she never noticed the passing of the time as the sun sank into the sky.
 
It was only when something touched her arm that she turned to find Channing watching her.

“Abigail?”

She tried to swallow though her mouth was devoid of moisture.
 
“What?”

“I’ve been calling your name, and you haven’t answered.”

She shrugged and turned to face the sun.
 
It had colored the cloudless sky a vivid purple.
 
“As you can see, I’m just fine.”

“You’re a liar, is what you are,” he said and shoved his canteen into her hands.

Abby wanted to pour the water over her head.
 
Instead she slowly lifted it to her mouth and drank.
 
She was only going to take a sip, but the cool water was too good to turn away.
 

“Easy,” Channing said.
 
“Don’t drink too much too fast or it’ll make you sick.”

She forced herself to lower the canteen and hand it back to him.
 
“Thank you.”

“You should’ve told me you needed a drink.”

Abby shrugged.
 

“This isn’t England.
 
You need to listen to your body when it tells you something.”

Like how I enjoyed the feel of you atop me?
 
The hardness, the muscles, the weight?

She licked her lips and glanced at him.
 
“I will in the future.
 
This is my first time away from England.”

He snorted at her words.
 
“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

“It’s the truth, but frankly I couldn’t care less if you believe it or not.”

She tried to make a graceful turn, but her body was too exhausted and she ended up tripping on her feet.
 
Strong arms locked around her to keep her from falling to the hard earth.

Tears of frustration prickled the backs of her eyes.
 
The only other person who had ever made her cry was her father, which made her hate Channing all the more.

“Let me up,” she said between clenched teeth.

He righted her before he removed his hands.
 
“My camp isn’t much farther.
 
I wanted to reach it before dusk.”
 
His gaze continually moved over the landscape.

A lion roared off to her right, and a moment later another animal bellowed near them.
 
Unable to stop herself, Abby took a step closer to Channing.
 

“Come on,” he said and hurried on.

Abby stayed next to him.
 
Their steps were quick as they moved through the open space, and every time Channing swung his rifle around, her fear grew. It was impossible not to notice for the first time how loud the various animals were.

And then they she saw it, a speck in the distance, but even from the distance she knew it was a fire.

“Almost there,” Channing said, his voice clipped and tight.

She clenched her fists, silently praying that they reached the camp without being attacked.
 
Despite the fact Channing hadn’t said he thought an animal was near, the simple way he held himself alert, his gaze constantly moving and his rifle at the ready, told her everything.

It seemed an eternity before the fire grew close enough that she saw it wasn’t just one fire, but many.
 
She blinked, unsure of what she saw before her eyes.

“You said a camp.”

He lifted one shoulder.
 
“It is my camp.”

She gave an unladylike snort.
 
“That’s a bloody house, Mr. St. John.”

A hint of a grin flashed across his lips.
 
“A lady who curses?
 
This is my camp, where I choose to live.”

At the moment Abby wouldn’t have cared if the camp was nothing but a blanket before the fire, she was so tired.
 
Suddenly, Channing took her hand and yanked her towards the fire.

“Run,” he yelled and pulled her after him.

She heard the growls behind her and knew the animals were right on her heels.
 
With her free hand, she jerked up her skirts so she could lengthen her legs.
 
Ahead, she saw men rush from the dark, outlined by the fires.
 

“Don’t stop,” Channing shouted and gave her a final push toward the fires.

Abby couldn’t move fast enough and she ended up stumbling over her feet as she passed the line of fires and the men there.
 
She fell to the ground and looked over her shoulder to find Channing on one knee an instant before he fired his rifle.

There was a loud yelp and then a silence so heavy it was deafening.
 
Abby rolled over, her breath rushing through her lungs like fire.
 
Her gaze searched the darkness for a sign of another attack, and when none came, Channing finally rose and turned toward her.
 

His steps were long as he walked to her.
 
He stopped and held out his hand.
 
After he pulled her to her feet, he gave her a brief nod. “Are you all right?”

She chuckled as the rush of adrenaline still pulsed within her.
 
“You’ve asked me that several times this day.”

“Are you?”

Abby blew out a breath and nodded.
 
“I am.
 
Thank you.
 
Once again.”

“Come,” he said and motioned behind her.

She glanced at the men that began to patrol the area before the turned around.
 
How she had missed the structure behind her she didn’t know, but she wouldn’t consider the house a camp.
 
From what she could see, it boasted a fairly unique design with a porch that stretched out before her and looked to wrap around the entire structure.

Belatedly, she noticed that Channing had walked the few steps onto the porch and waited for her.
 
Abby hurried after him, eager to find somewhere she could sit and relieve her aching feet.

She wanted to look around at the place Channing called home.
 
Abby learned early on that you could tell a lot about a person by their homes, but Channing didn’t give her a chance.
 
He walked quickly through the foyer, passed a couple of rooms and down a long corridor.

Finally, Channing stopped and opened a door.
 
Abby stepped through the doorway and stopped.
 
In the middle of the room sat a tub full of steaming water.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to–”

“It’s perfect,” she interrupted.
 
She walked toward the bed covered with white netting that hung from the ceiling.
 

She leaned down and began to unlace her boots.
 
The first one fell to the floor, and the second was about to follow when she noticed Channing hadn’t left.

“You needn’t worry that I’ll run off,” she said.
 
Her second boot hit the floor and she sank onto the bed.
 
“I’m too exhausted, and I’m more than terrified of the animals.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.
 
“What did your father do to you to make you plan your own kidnapping?”

Abby slowly raised her gaze to Channing.
 
“You’re just now interested in that answer?”

He shrugged.
 
“Maybe.”

“You think because my family has money that it must be my way of getting my father’s attention.”

“That idea did cross my mind.”

She smiled tightly.
 
“It more than crossed your mind, Mr. St. John.
 
I know from society just how shallow some people can be.
 
I could sit here and explain my reasoning to you or tell you that I’m not the person you think I am, but it doesn’t matter what I say.
 
You’ve already formed your opinion.
 
Nothing I say can change that.”

“It’s difficult not to form an opinion,” he said slowly.
 
“I’ve had several...meetings...with ladies of your position.
 
They’ve all been the same.
 
Why should you be any different?”

Abby closed her eyes and sighed heavily.
 
She was much too tired to talk.
 
She wanted a bath, food and a bed.

She didn’t look at him when she rose from the bed and turned to the tub.
 
Once more she bent down, this time to lift her skirts and roll down her stockings.
 
She could still sense him behind her, and she found that she liked him watching her.

“If you want to continue this conversation, you’ll have to do it while I bathe,” she said as she began to unbutton her shirt.

He inhaled sharply, and Abby found herself smiling.
 
She had shocked him.
 
In truth, she had shocked herself, and it felt wonderful.
 
It was amazing what exhaustion could do to a person, or maybe it had always been inside of her and Channing freed the wanton inside her.
 
Regardless, she found a new side of herself, and she intended to keep it.

“Are you trying to provoke me?”
 
His voice was low, soft.
 
He was trying for indifference, but Abby knew she had gotten to him.