He reached up and touched her cheek with his left hand, and the feelings magnified, the longing more compelling.She wanted to touch him, too, to see whether she could ease the harsh, bitter lines on his face, but she knew she couldn’t or she would be lost.It would be an invitation to him, and there were only the two of them up here in this mountain clearing.No safety anywhere.No one to interfere.No one to tell her how unwise she was.
She had to tell herself, and nothing in her life had been more difficult.Using all the willpower she had, she wrenched away from his touch.
He dropped his hand quickly and stepped back, his face still impassive, but there was a brilliant glitter in his striking eyes.She didn’t know whether it was from anger or desire.She didn’t think she wanted to know.
“Ex-convicts not to your liking?”His body was tense, and she had the sudden impression that she had wounded him.Which was ridiculous.
“Kidnappers are not to my liking,” she retorted.
“I didn’t kidnap you.”
“But you’re holding me here against my will.”
Some of the tension seemed to fade from him.“Let’s just say I don’t want anything to happen to you in these mountains.”
“You don’t care what happens to me,” she charged, terribly confused by her own mixed emotions, that moment of regret that she might have caused him pain.She ought to cause him as much pain as she could, as he had done to her.
He hesitated at her charge, started to say something, and then clamped his lips together.He finally shrugged.“Continue to believe that, Miss Randall, and we’ll get along just fine.”
“I don’t want to get along with you.”
“You’ll have to.Unless you want to stay in that cabin day and night.I don’t intend to waste time arguing with you.You do exactly what I say or you stay in that cabin … without that sketchpad.”
She looked down at her case, still clutched in her hands.“You didn’t say whether I could sketch you.”
“I don’t give a damn.I want Randall to know I’m here.And,” he added with a careless shrug, “as you know, there are other pictures of me.”
“Will you pose for me?”Shea asked.She had gone this far.She might as well go further.
“Now that, Miss Randall, is asking too much.”
“You have an interesting face.”
“Really?”he said wryly.“And how is that?”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly, thoughtfully.“Which is why it’s interesting.”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me when you know.”He turned away, as if weary of the conversation.
“I …”
He turned back to her.“What?”
“I don’t know what to call you.”
“Mr.Tyler will do,” he said.“Or sir.”
She looked him in the eyes.She had lost some of her fear of him, knowing she had goaded him and had survived.“Go to …” She stopped, unwilling to finish what she had started to say, not out of fear but propriety.“Hades,” she finally finished.
“You asked.That’s what I called the guards in prison.Now I’myourguard, Miss Randall, and I think we should observe the proprieties of such an arrangement.”
“Fine,” she said.“Mr.Tyler.”She made it sound as obscene as the way he said “Miss Randall.”
He smiled mirthlessly.“Now you have the idea.”He turned to leave again, and this time he didn’t stop until he disappeared into the other building.
Chapter 6
Rafe left open the door to the shack to let in the last remnants of light and as a reminder to the woman that he was watching.
