She did not resist as he crossed the lawn and into the trees. He was eager to get the smell of the lodge out of his nostrils—the smell of too many people, of tension and hostility. He had gone there tonight fully intending to take advantage of his reputation, to upset the narrow-minded townsfolk gathered there in a place where he seldom intruded. But somehow it had not left him with the usual satisfaction. And there’d been Allan with his damned interfering ways.
Perhaps, he considered as the trees closed over them, he was simply too preoccupied. The clean odor of pine needles, rich earth, and growing things gradually washed away the stench of civilization, and he could smell her again—that unique scent that drew him so powerfully.
As he paused to look down at her, she tugged her arm free of his grip and rubbed it slowly, gazing about. He could sense no unease about the place he had chosen—nothing but restrained curiosity and that same fierce resolve that never left her eyes. She, too, was preoccupied.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said. With a start she ceased the absentminded massage of her arm and disguised the movement, folding her arms across her chest.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she answered. Her eyes scanned over the trees again and finally met his. “Though it would be nice if you asked next time instead of grabbing me.” She did not quite manage to hide a faint tone of irritation in her voice, though her expression remained smooth and unruffled. He sensed her nervousness clearly under the calm façade, she might have succeeded in deceiving another man.
“I’m glad to hear there will be a next time.” He let his eyes wander over her as he had not felt free to do in Collier’s presence, admiring the clean lines of her body, the lithe suppleness and delicacy. She was beautiful—but not merely beautiful. His pulse rose as she shifted, leaning back against a tree trunk with unconscious grace.
“You didn’t eat much tonight,” she offered at last, sidestepping his comment. She was not looking at him now, looking, in fact, everywhere but at him, and her fingers played idly with the rough bark at her back. Luke wanted to see her eyes again, he wanted to see the desire in them. “Allan was right, you know. That was pretty decent Mexican food.”
He found it hard to concentrate on her attempts at conversation. “I’m sure it was. But I leave exotic cuisine to Allan, I have a taste for other things.” He moved forward a step, willing her to acknowledge him. She turned her cheek against the bark, pale hair fanned out to catch in the serrated edges of the dark wood. The twilight calls of birds, the chattering of a squirrel above them filled the long silence. Her breathing was soft and rapid, he could feel her uncertainty as clearly as if she had spoken it aloud.
When she turned to him at last she had put on a smile, but her chin was tilted up, and her shoulders were squared with decision. “Shall we walk a bit?” she suggested. It was she who took the lead this time, pushing away from the tree and reaching up to tuck her arm through his.
The gesture startled him. A shock ran through his body as it had when he had touched her before, it overwhelmed any desire to examine her change in attitude. Her hip touched his thigh, and he could sense every inch of her in his imagination. He fought the rising compulsion to forget caution and feel her body against his in truth.
But she was talking again, with that lightness that seemed designed to hold him at bay. “I never quite get over how quiet it is here—how untouched. Where I’m from, it’s hard to remember that any place like this exists.”
She reached out with her free hand to brush fingers across the leaves of a mountain ash, pausing to examine the small applelike berries. “It would be nice sometime to come up here with no other purpose than simply to enjoy it. There’s so much to see, and I feel as if I’ve only scratched the surface.”