His head came up alertly and his golden gaze swept the forest around them. The men, off in the distant clearing, melted away, simply disappeared as though they’d never been. Conner allowed her shaky legs to drop to the ground even as he inhaled deeply, drawing in the air—and information.

Chapter 9

9

SHAKEN, her entire body trembling, Isabeau clutched at Conner’s shoulders for support. “What is it?” She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe right.

“We have company coming this way,” he said. “The forest is getting mighty crowded these days.” He wrapped his arm around her and drew her beneath his shoulder, sliding back farther into the brush. “We’ll be fine. The boys are closing in on them.”

“Them?” she echoed faintly. If survival meant being alert at all times—she wasn’t going to make it. He had caught the scent of the intruders, or felt them in some way, while she’d been overcome with her own passion. How did he do that? She was almost upset with him, even though she knew it was a skill he needed—they needed—to survive.

“Two men. They move like they know the forest.”

“I don’t understand.” She didn’t understand what he meant, but more than that, she didn’t understand how her body could be screaming for relief, every nerve ending crying out for him to stay—to keep his attention solely on her. It was stupid in the face of danger, but she’d been so consumed by him, aware only of him, thinking he had the same awareness and need and obsession with her.

“Most people come into the rain forest and try to dominate, hacking their way, but these men are familiar and comfortable with it, telling us perhaps they inhabit the interior on a regular basis.” His palm curled around her nape and he dipped his head, skimming the side of her neck with a trail of kisses. “I could kill them just for interrupting us.”

It was his voice, shaking a little, rough—even harsh, revealing he meant those damning words that ironically allowed her to forgive him for his survival skills. She leaned into him and let him hold her close, trying hard to cool the rush of heat that had sent her body into meltdown.

“Take a breath. It helps.”

“Does it?”

He laughed softly, a mere thread of sound. “Not really. But we’ll pretend. When I’m with you, Isabeau, it’s a little like lighting a match to a stick of dynamite. I can’t seem to control it.” His teeth nipped her shoulder and he buried his face briefly against her neck, obviously struggling to cool the heat of his body as well. He was still thick and hard and, in spite of the potential gravity of the situation, she felt happy.

“At least it’s both of us.”