The Price of Pleasure by Kresley Cole Page A

able to catch her, yet here he was dragging her along. She needed a plan. Think. They were about to pass the pool.
    â€œCaptain? Sir? I’ve been hurt.” She stopped and pointed at her thigh. “I need to clean the cuts on my leg.”
    His eyes widened. He grasped the back of her knee and lifted her leg so high she had to hop around on her other foot. He bunched up the skirt enough to see the beginnings of the scratch, then higher still. Tori began shaking slightly as though chilled, but she was far from cold. Her skin felt hot and sensitive to the calloused pads of his fingers.
    Abruptly he lowered the skirt. “You are cut,” he said in a voice different from before. Now his words rumbled from him.
    She was indeed. From days ago, not that he could see that from mere moonlight. She could swear he felt guilty. She blinked up at him and said softly, “It really stings. I need some water.” When he hesitated, she pressed. “If you’re truly my rescuer, this is a good start.”
    â€œOf course.” He coughed, and then said in a sterner voice, “Tell me which way to go.”
    â€œPast the great breadfruit tree, take the path to the left.”
    Moments later: “There is no path.”
    â€œThat’s not a breadfruit tree.”
    â€œVery well, you lead.” He propelled her in front of him. “But don’t try anything.”
    She walked on, guided them left until they came upon the pool he’d bathed in before.
    He seemed at a loss, but finally he put both her wrists in one of his hands. “I, uh, don’t have a cloth to wash the cut.”
    The giant did feel guilty. Perhaps he wasn’t that frightening. “I’m filthy all over. From where you tackled me,” she reminded him. “I’m getting in.”
    â€œI think not,” he snapped. “Now wash the leg.”
    When she looked down at her hands, he abruptly released her.
    Â 
    Victoria sat at the edge of the water, pulling her skirt up and cupping water to her scratch. Grant swallowed hard. The water, he knew, was chilled and she shivered, sighing out a breath. The sound teased something deep in him and made him grow hard as steel.
    He was a gentleman, damn it. But first he was a man, and now in some forsaken jungle, he was alone with a lithe, young beauty garbed in clothing like gauze. “That’s enough.”
    She twined around to frown at him, and her skirt pulled farther up her slightly spread legs. She had long legs, defined, going on forever. A man could get ideas. It had been so long since he’d seen the smooth skin of a woman’s thigh….
    By dint of will, he turned away. A glance at his hands showed them shaking.
    He heard her slip into the water and twisted around. “Get out of the water. Now.”
    Swimming as though she’d been born to it, she glided out farther.
    â€œI said to get out of the bloody water!” He couldn’t remember ever being so angry. So why did he still have an unbearable erection?
    â€œLooks as though you’ll have to come get me,” she taunted.
    Little witch. In seconds, Grant had his boots and shirt yanked off. “Come here.” He tensed against the cool water when he waded in. Told himself he wouldn’t throttle her. “I said, come here,” he grated.
    She smirked and waved at him then, fingers to the heel of her hand, the exaggerated way a child waves good-bye. He would throttle her. Slowly. Then she sank below the surface. What the devil?
    He swam out to where she’d been. Even with the moon and the clarity of the water, he couldn’t spot her. When a minute passed, he dove under, reaching out blindly. Another minute gone. His head began to throb in beat with his thundering heart. Again and again, he sucked in another breath and went down.
    He broke the surface once more, was inhaling a gulp of air when he heard, “If you are who you say, then prove it. If you’re