Part 4 (1/2)
”I've told you not to think too much about my rights,” he re-minded her, his mouth grating across the softness of her lips. ”I'll take the ones I want!”
”Not with me, you won't!” she swore. ”We may have a deal, but this wasn't part of it!” Stacy lashed out with her foot, aiming for his s.h.i.+n and connecting solidly. She heard his indrawn breath of pain and pushed savagely against his chest as his hold momentarily weak-ened. She was free!
”Why you little...!” He glared furiously at her as she backed rap-idly away from him. ”Don't you dare run away after that little stunt,” he ordered, ignoring his bruised s.h.i.+n in favor of stalking her across the room.
”Leave me alone, Hunter, I'm warning you!” Stacy cried, edging toward the kitchen, her hand held out in front of her in a hopeless attempt to ward him off. His name certainly suited him admirably in that moment, she thought dismally. He was coming after her with all the deliberate, unswerving intent of a large cat closing in on its prey.
”There's no point in running,” he told her coldly, matching each of her retreating steps with an advancing one of his own. ”This time you're not getting off as easily as you did earlier. You're going to start learning what it means to be Mrs. Hunter Manning tonight!”
”This wasn't part of our deal!” she protested once more, almost at the back door now. Still, he made no sudden move to close the distance between them. It was as if he wanted her to. suffer the dis-tress of being stalked until there was no more room to run, no place to hide.
”When it comes to the fine print in our bargain,” he informed her in a hard voice, ”I'm the authority, not you!”
It was the steel in his words that finally sent Stacy over the edge of panic. With a small exclamation of fury and fear, she yanked open the kitchen door and ran down the steps into the backyard. The bulk of the greenhouse seemed to offer some shelter, and she intuitively raced to put it between herself and her tormentor. Then, in the dark-ness, she waited, her heart pounding. It wouldn't take him long to find her, she realized hopelessly. The yard simply wasn't that large, and he'd probably seen the direction in which she'd run anyway....
But there was no sound, nothing to indicate his angry pursuit. In the tense silence Stacy tried to calm her breath so that she could listen more closely for the sound of his footsteps. Still nothing. The seconds stretched painfully into moments and the urge to sneak a glance back toward the house was overwhelming. Where was he?
It occurred quite suddenly to Stacy that perhaps he hadn't fol-lowed her after all. Perhaps he'd abandoned the chase in disgust. There had been no sound of a car being started, however, so she hadn't been lucky enough to have him leave altogether. That meant he was still somewhere around, but where?
Very cautiously, Stacy edged around the corner of the green-house. In the dim light spilling from the open kitchen door she could see nothing. A strange, fearful curiosity began to go to work in her head. She had a.s.sumed he would simply run her down, and she would be left to plead and argue and threaten uselessly. There was no movement from within the house, and Stacy finally summoned up her willpower. She certainly couldn't stand outside all night, and if he had meant to chase after her and drag her back to the house, he would have done so by now.
”Hunter?” she whispered breathlessly, taking one delicate step just inside the kitchen door. ”Hunter, can't we talk about this? I'll give you my word not to back out of the marriage if you'll just ”
”If I'll just what, Stacy?” he asked mildly from directly behind her.
”Oh!” She spun around to face him. She had gone right past where he stood in the shadows of the porch! He was close enough to put his hands on her. With grim realization Stacy acknowledged that her recklessness and her impetuosity were both poor survival charac-teristics around a hunter who knew when to stalk his prey and when to outwait it.
”Go ahead,” he drawled, his fog-shrouded gaze on her startled face. ”Let's hear what new intricacies you're trying to weave into our deal.” y- What was the point? Stacy thought, resignation sweep-ing out all her other emotions as she stood looking up at his implaca-ble face. Her wide green eyes were filled with reluctant acceptance of the bargain she had struck with the devil tonight, and she could tell by the glitter of male satisfaction in his narrowed gaze that Hunter saw her capitulation.
”It might be tricky getting a Rylan to carry out all the terms of a bargain that isn't particularly in her favor, but I'm going to do it. I swear it!” Hunter's words were uttered with such absolute determi-nation and such a sense of overpowering inevitability that Stacy didn't even try to protest when he put out a hand, curled it around the nape of her neck, and lowered his head to take her lips.
CHAPTER FOUR.
Stacy stood with a strange, totally artificial calm as Hunter's mouth invaded her own. She knew she should be reacting in some way, trying to talk him out of his intentions, but all the fight seemed to have temporarily gone out of her limbs. It was as if knowing he held all the aces in their uneven game had finally brought her the realiza-tion that it was useless to struggle anymore tonight. She stood pas-sively, her eyes closed against the reality of what was happening, and waited.
”That's better,” he ground out against the skin of her throat as his lips sought the small pulse there. ”Your fate was sealed back there at your brother's house tonight. There's no point in struggling against it. Come and find out what it holds in store for you....”
Stacy heard the soft, beguiling tone of his words and s.h.i.+vered with dismay. ”Why do you waste words trying to coax me into giv-ing you what you want?” she asked. ”You've made it very clear that you're going to force yourself on me regardless of my wishes!”
”So now you're going to try the role of martyr?” he taunted lightly, not seeming particularly worried. His hands slowly tightened around her waist as he continued to explore the skin of her throat and shoulders with his lips. There was a slow, lazy, tantalizing aspect to his love-making that was disturbing something deep within Stacy.
”It doesn't suit you, Stacy,” Hunter went on after a few seconds of deepening kisses at the corners of her lips. Kisses that urged and beckoned.
”Wh-what doesn't?” Stacy swallowed, feeling his hands pull loose her s.h.i.+rt from the waistband of her jeans. An instant later his fingers were on the warmth of her bare skin, sliding slowly upward toward her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
”The martyr role,” he explained softly. ”Deep down, you're a fighter like me. And once you accept the fact that I'm bigger, stronger, and far more ruthless, we'll get along very well together!”
That was too much! ”Not a chance!” she promised fiercely.
”See what I mean?” he murmured teasingly. ”You'll never make it as a saint. But neither will I let you hurt yourself by continually fighting me. You're going to channel all that energy and spirit into a much more useful role. That of being my wife!”
”So that you can throw the fact in my fathers face!” she charged bleakly, wondering yet again what Hunter would do when he real-ized how little impact that would have on Paul J. Rylan.
There was a fractional hesitation before Hunter bit out a soft, rasping ”Yes!”
Instantly the cajoling, seductive element disappeared from his lovemaking. As if Stacy's accusation had made him realize there was little point in trying to coax her into -a more pa.s.sionate mood, Hunter, with a low growl compounded of desire and determination, bent and lifted her high into his arms.
”Put me down, d.a.m.n it!” Stacy yelped as her senses spun mo-mentarily with the unexpected change in position.
Without thinking about it, she closed the fingers of one hand into a small fist, raising it to use against his chest.
”Hit me once more tonight, Stacy Rylan, and I will really lose my temper,” Hunter warned almost mildly, carrying her into the kitchen and on toward the living room.
Something in his voice, perhaps the very lack of obvious anger, stopped her. ”Then put me down, and neither of us will be forced to go through any more scenes!” she ordered loftily, well aware she was in an exceptionally weak position from which to bargain. She glared furiously up into his determinedly set features. He smiled thinly.
”I wouldn't think of skipping this next little scene,” he told her in deep, rough tones. He came to a halt beside the couch, patterned in huge yellow flowers, and dumped her unceremoniously onto it. ”Don't move!” he grated as she tried at once to find her balance and get off the cus.h.i.+ons. ”Not one inch.”
”What do you think you're doing?” she demanded as haughtily as she could with her hair in her eyes. He looked very large and forbid-ding as he stood beside the couch, examining his captive.
”I'm going to find out exactly what I'm gaining out of this deal besides a green-thumbed health-food nut!” He lowered himself be-side her, and she tried to pull away, but there wasn't anywhere to move now.
”I'm not a nut!” she informed him stiffly, ”and you're only going into this marriage for revenge, so you can't tell me you want any-thing... anything else!”
”But I do want something else. Something that will make the re-venge complete. I want you!” Hunter reached out and took hold of her left wrist, chaining it deliberately as he leaned heavily across her other arm and upper body.
With his free hand he slowly, methodically began undoing the b.u.t.tons of her s.h.i.+rt.
”Hunter, please!” Stacy begged, abandoning all hope of being able to hold him at bay with angry words. ”Don't do this!”
The foggy pools of his eyes met hers, and she had the oddest sen-sation of being enveloped by the s.h.i.+fting, swirling currents there. His fingers were halfway through their task. She felt the slightly rough-ened tips straying inside the opening of her s.h.i.+rt, testing the softness of the skin of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s above the edge of her bra.
”Pleas?” he questioned, sounding vaguely interested. ”No more orders or bargains?”
”Hunter,” Stacy whispered desperately, her wide eyes making no effort to hide her anxiety. ”I'm begging you to wait. At least give me a chance to know you and get accustomed to the idea of marrying you! Everything has happened so quickly tonight. I I realize it's different for a man,” she added, stumbling slightly over the words, ”but I need time ”
”What more do you need to know about the devil?” Hunter asked with a mocking touch of whimsy as his fingers undid the last of the b.u.t.tons and slowly, coolly pushed aside the material, exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
Stacy felt the angry blood rush into her cheeks and turned her face into the cus.h.i.+on of the couch. Her eyes squeezed shut on her fury and helplessness. He was right, she thought bitterly. What more did one need to know about the devil? And she had made her pact of her own free will, hadn't she? What right did she have to complain about her fate? She felt him touch her breast, slide beneath the lacy cup of the small bra, and then his fingers were gently circling, tug-ging, and-teasing her nipple. Stacy sipped air on a tiny moan.
”Look at me, Stacy,” he commanded in a low, husky murmur as he s.h.i.+fted to settle his full length along her trapped body. She could feel the steel in him, the smooth, muscled heaviness of his leanness as he crushed her softly into the couch.
”I said look at me,” he repeated, as she refused to meet his eyes. Helifted his hand, the one he had been using to caress her breast, and fjrmly turned her taut face away from the poor protection of the flowered cus.h.i.+on.
Unwillingly Stacy looked up into the rugged, uncompromising face and swallowed dryly. In that moment it took all her courage simply not to cry. And Stacy hadn't cried for a very long time.
”I'm not doing this because of some uncontrollable l.u.s.t I've con-ceived for a woman I've only known a couple of hours,” he told her forcefully. ”I'm doing it because my instincts tell me you're going to argue, bargain, and try to wriggle out of this marriage unless I make it very clear there's no going back.”