Each Time We Love (15 page)

Through slitted lashes, his eyes roamed speculatively over
her. At first he stared at her trying to figure out her motives, but as
the seconds passed, a decidedly carnal gleam entered into those dark
blue eyes, and his gaze traveled with increasing appreciation front her
full, passionate mouth to the lush, firm breasts that strained against
the cheap material of her gown. Torn between amusement and anger at his
unruly flesh, Adam felt his body respond violently to the captivating
sensuality that was revealed in every provocative curve of her
magnificent form.

In growing rage, Savanna watched him blatantly assess each
feminine feature of her body, and her hands tightened into fists at her
sides. "I would think," she ground out from between clenched teeth,
"that it would be to your benefit to defend yourself rather than strip
me with your eyes!"

Adam was not a bit abashed to have been caught staring. His
chiseled mouth curved into a lopsided grin. "Well, since you seem to
have already convicted me of the heinous crime of killing your father,"
he replied smoothly, "I didn't see the point of my trying to convince
you otherwise!" A heavy black eyebrow arched inquiringly. "Did your
father have a name?"

Baffled by his complete disregard of his dangerous position,
Savanna could only stare at him, wishing savagely that the man who had
killed Davalos had been old and ugly instead of young and outrageously
handsome. She'd never seen anyone quite like him before; she'd never
felt this treacherous excitement, this sudden thundering in her blood,
and the fact that the man lying at her feet was the cause of it
terrified her almost as much as it enraged her.

Despite the rigors he had been through, despite the fact that
he had been kidnapped by murderous rogues, the thoroughly shameless
creature lay there exuding an air of indifferent elegance and an utter
disregard for what might be his fate. The buckskin breeches clung to
the long, hard length of his muscled thighs and did nothing to disguise
the fact that he was aroused. He was totally uncaring that she knew his
state, and Savanna's hand itched to slap that handsome face of his! The
fine white cotton shirt fit his broad shoulders admirably, the
voluminous sleeves which covered his powerful arms were caught in a
narrow band at his wrists and a sprinkle of dark hair showed at the
open V of the collar. A lock of blue-black hair fell carelessly across
his forehead and the expression in the sapphire eyes made Savanna's
pulse behave erratically. He was, she concluded wrathfully, far too
sure of himself. Arrogant bastard!

Oblivious of the two by the fire, Savanna glared at him and
snapped, "Have you killed so many men that you can't recall all of
them?"

Adam shrugged. "I've never killed a man who bore even the
faintest resemblance to you, sweetheart."

Savanna ground her teeth audibly at his glib reply, and,
unable to prevent herself, she gave him a swift kick in the ribs.
"Well, perhaps the name
Davalos
will jog your
memory, you murdering bastard!" she snarled.

The kick hurt damnably, but it was the mention of Davalos's
name that caused Adam to stiffen and a wary light to leap in his eyes.
He was exceedingly familiar with Davalos, and just thinking of the
grief the man had brought upon his family made a cold rage slowly seep
through Adam's body. Oh yes, Adam knew Bias Davalos—he had met the
Spaniard in Natchez when Catherine had been living at Belle Vista,
before Jason had spirited her away to Terre du Coeur; had known Davalos
before the man had kidnapped his sister, raped her and been the cause
of her losing the baby she had carried at the time… From Jason and
Blood Drinker, he had learned even more of the details of Davalos's
life, including those of his grisly death at Blood Drinker's hands, and
if Adam had any regrets, it was that
he
had been
denied the pleasure of killing Davalos with his bare hands!

But that this glorious creature in front of him could be the
daughter of Bias Davalos was impossible to credit! Davalos had been
slim and dark, his Spanish origins obvious, but Adam could not see any
sign of Davalos in the furious young woman before him— neither her
height, nor the incredible mane of red-gold curls that framed her
lovely face, nor the striking aquamarine eyes could have come from Bias
Davalos.

"Well, Miss Davalos, you sure as hell don't look like your
daddy!" he finally commented coolly.

Savanna's heart had sunk at Adam's revealing reaction to her
father's name, and it hadn't been until then that she admitted that she
had been hoping that he'd never heard of Bias Davalos. But his actions
and words condemned him, and her jaw hardened.

"The name is O'Rourke, and whether I look like Davalos or not
doesn't change anything!" she snapped, barely controlling the urge to
kick him again. "He was my father and you killed him and now you're
going to pay for it!"

Behind his cool blue gaze, Adam's keen brain was working
frantically, and he wasn't liking the thoughts that were occurring to
him. His position was dangerous enough, but the notion that there was
more to this than simple revenge could not be ignored, and as he turned
the situation over in his mind, he was aware of an odd certainty
growing within him that he wasn't going to like the real reason for his
abduction at all!

The hard planes of his face unrevealing, Adam inquired with
deceptive indifference, "And precisely how do you intend to go about
doing that? If murder was on your mind, you'd have killed me last
night, but you didn't. Why not?"

"Because," said the big, burly man who had suddenly loomed up
behind the woman, "you're more interesting to us alive at the moment.
We can always kill you, but first you're going to tell us about the
golden armband and the Aztec treasure you killed Savanna's father for."

Not by so much as a blink of an eyelash did Adam reveal that
he had ever heard of any golden armband or Aztec treasure. He was,
however, very familiar with the golden armband—he'd seen it often
enough on Jason's arm. He was equally familiar with the story of the
Aztec treasure that Jason, Blood Drinker and Jason's friend and mentor,
Philip Nolan, had blundered across on one of their horse-trading
expeditions with the Comanches. What did surprise him was that someone
else
knew about it!

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said flatly, his
eyes clashing with the man's pale blue ones.

The big man grinned and pulled out a knife, then lovingly
caressed the blade. "Oh, I think you do, and I think that by the time I
get done with you, you'll sing your guts out for me!"

"Micajah!" Savanna uttered sharply. "Not
now!
You said we had to cross the Sabine River before we would be safe from
pursuit. Shouldn't we be on our way?"

For a tense second, Adam thought that the man called Micajah
might defy her, but he finally nodded his unkempt head and muttered,
"Mebbe you're right. A few days won't make any difference." He sent
Adam a malicious grin. "And he sure as hell ain't going anywhere but
with us."

Adam's situation hadn't improved noticeably, but the fact that
Micajah intended to keep him alive until they had crossed the Sabine
River gave him a much-appreciated respite. By his calculations, they
were over three days of hard riding from the river, and who knew what
could transpire between now and then…

Speculatively his gaze traveled over the tantalizing young
Fury, Savanna O'Rourke, as he still tried to grapple with the news that
she was the daughter of Bias Davalos, She called herself O'Rourke, not
Davalos… A most unpleasant notion occurred to him, and he was annoyed
at precisely
how
unpleasant he found it—surely
she wasn't
married
to that hulking bastard
Micajah? His mouth twisted derisively. It wasn't any of his business,
Adam reminded himself grimly, even if she
was
married to Micajah. Getting out of this predicament alive was the only
thing that mattered, and so far, he decided sourly, he had only two
advantages: it appeared that he was relatively safe until they reached
the Sabine, and Savanna hadn't seemed eager for Micajah to start
carving him up. But he acknowledged that looking to Savanna for help
didn't seem promising; her actions made it clear she detested him and
thought him the lowest sort of vermin. But I have time, he told
himself, and I might as well make the most of it.

When the other two turned away and walked over to the fire,
Adam tested his bonds, discovering without any surprise that they were
effectively secure. Having found that avenue temporarily blocked, he
glanced around, coolly sizing up his three captors with an eye to
finding their weak spots.

Savanna had a temper,
that
he'd already
discovered and his bruised ribs gave testament to it; Micajah had a
cruel streak and enjoyed inflicting pain on others, if his obvious
pleasure at the prospect of using the knife was any indication. He also
was a bully, Adam observed thoughtfully, watching Micajah impatiently
cuff the head of the small man by the fire. As for the object of
Micajah's displeasure, it was too early for Adam to draw any
conclusions about him and his gaze wandered on, only to be drawn back
sharply to the trio by the fire as it became obvious that there was an
altercation brewing.

Savanna's fists were clenched by her sides and it was apparent
that she was holding onto her temper with an effort. "I am
not,"
she ground out angrily, "riding on the same horse with
you!"

"Well, Jesus Christ! How the hell do you expect us to ride?"
Micajah snarled. "In case you've forgotten, there's only three horses,
and now there's
four
of us!"

"And whose fault is that?" she asked sweetly, not backing down
in the least. The thought of being in such proximity to Micajah Yates
as riding on the same horse with him made her sick—she'd actually have
to touch him, put her arms around him, and she'd walk barefoot over
burning lava before she'd submit to
that!

Micajah eyed her with mingled desire and dislike. He'd been
too easy on her so far, he decided. Let her get too uppity, let her
think that she still had a choice. It was time that Savanna O'Rourke
learned her place.

Swiftly he drew his fist back to strike her, but Savanna,
reading his intent, was already in motion. "I think
not!"
she said fiercely and, dropping to the ground, snatched up one of the
pieces of wood from the fire and, holding onto the cool end of it,
shoved the flaming point at his face.

Micajah yelped and danced quickly away from the fiery tip as
Savanna advanced determinedly, poking her weapon forcefully toward his
face. "Don't even
think
about trying that sort of
tiling with me, you bastard!" she said with obvious relish as Micajah,
all idea of brutalizing her gone, kept moving uneasily away from her.
"And remember this," she muttered tightly. "You may be stronger than
me, you
might
be able to overpower me and beat me
into submission for a while, but you have to sleep sometime, Micajah."
She smiled nastily at him. "And some night when you're sound asleep,
some night when you think you've got me broken"—if possible, her smile
got nastier—"that's the night I'll cut out your liver and serve it up
for breakfast!"

To Adam, riveted by the scene unfolding in front of him, it
was obvious that Micajah didn't doubt her words for an instant. His
face pasty, the big man laughed nervously and muttered placatingly,
"Now, Savanna you know I'd never do anything to hurt you! You just got
me riled, honey. Just made me lose my temper for a bit there, that's
all!"

Contemptuously Savanna threw down her weapon. "It had better
be all! And I'm still not riding on a horse with you!"

"What about Jeremy?" Micajah persisted doggedly, not certain
how he had lost the advantage. "Will you ride with him? It's only until
we reach the Sabine— you know I've got more horses and supplies waiting
for us there." Some of Micajah's bravado was returning with every
second, but he wasn't yet ready to make another attempt to bully her
into submission. The defeat, however, left a bitter taste in his mouth;
she had shamed him, made him lose face in front of Jeremy, but for the
present he forced himself to be content with promising himself
viciously that his time would come and when it did, Savanna was going
to pay and pay dearly for this little scene.

At the mention of his name, Jeremy, who had watched the
confrontation with openmouthed astonishment, averted his eyes from
Micajah's sullen face and muttered nervously, "I don't want that
devil-witch riding with me! Let
them
ride
together!"

Savanna's mouth opened to adamantly protest such a solution,
but she suddenly realized that she had fought her way into a corner.
She'd made it plain she wasn't riding with Micajah; Jeremy had made it
equally plain he wasn't riding with her; that left only…

She glanced over at the prisoner and felt her temper rise when
she caught sight of the cynical smile on his hard mouth.

"Anything to please a lady," Adam murmured sardonically, aware
of her predicament.

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped and aimed a halfhearted kick in his
direction.

The ugly incident was over, but it had left Savanna shaken and
trembling inside, yet she
dared
not reveal how
very vulnerable and frightened she felt. It had been a dangerous gamble
to confront Micajah, but she hadn't seen that there had been any other
choice. Ever since she'd woken up and found herself Micajah's prisoner,
Savanna's emotions had been stretched and twisted to their limit. There
wasn't a moment that she could relax her guard, not a second that she
wasn't aware of the very danger of her position. Fear stalked her every
waking and sleeping moment: the fear of Micajah's careless brutality,
the unrelenting fear of rape, the gnawing fear that he would expose her
mother's life for what it had been and the growing fear of what lay
ahead.