Captive by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

friends, old friends, no army men, not even Tyler Argosy, though I have received a strange letter from him, telling me that he is on his way to fetch a child for some military commander. Jarrett comes home tonight or tomorrow. It’s a simple get-together for his birthday, and those here will all be people you know, friends. You will stay?”
    “Tara—”
    “It’s your brother’s birthday.”
    He sighed. “Ah, yes. Dress me up, put me on display. Let them all see just how civilized a savage can be.”
    “James!”
    “Tara, I’m sorry. My bitterness is not toward you. Fine, I will stay. I have matters to discuss with my brother anyway, and I am anxious to see him.”
    Tara gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll tell Jeeves you’re staying for dinner and the night. Your room is always ready for you, and always awaits you.”
    “A soft bed and good meal will sit well with me tonight, I think,” he told her gently.
    She smiled and hurried on into the house.
    *  *  *
    Moments later, Tara McKenzie returned to the rear breezeway doors to the wraparound porch.
    James still stood there, looking westward, into the interior of the territory, to the property line where the wild tangle of brush and trees began.
    He stood in the sunset, the golds and mauves of the sky casting a true copper glow over his skin. She could see the taut, rippled muscles of his abdomen and chest beneath the open vest, the bronze strength within his shoulders and arms. The life he led had honed him to something as sleek and powerful as a great cat. In his close-fitting breeches and simple doeskin vest, he seemed an extraordinary figure, the noble savage indeed. But she knew him well, knew his anguish, his heartache—and his anger. And even as she watched him she shivered fiercely.
    Heaven help the fool who teased the beast! she thought, then turned swiftly again, leaving him to the sunset and his own reflections upon it.

Chapter 3
    J arrett McKenzie made record time coming down the river, arriving at his home dock when the sun had scarcely risen in the sky.
    His guest, however, had been awake for some time. Even as they neared the shore, she stood at the bow, clearly fascinated by all that she saw.
    He smiled, watching her.
    Warren’s daughter! Who could have imagined!
    Stepdaughter,
he reminded himself, as she had been so determined to point out. But even so, she had grown up with the man as her guardian, and she had somehow escaped the evil that seemed to cling like a miasma about the man. She was eager, bright, and honest.
    And stunning.
    He was glad his marriage was completely sound, or else it might be difficult explaining such a lush creature on his ship, unchaperoned. Teela Warren was like one of the indescribably beautiful wild birds of the area. Her coloring was vivid, her hair a rich, deep, sun-touched shade of red, her eyes as green as an endless field in the early summer. She was moderately tall for a woman, slim and lithe and yet exotic as well—even her volumes of clothing hinted at a ripe and beguiling figure. Her nose was small and pert, chin just a shade pointed, face a cross between an oval and a heart, brows a shade darker than her hair with a provocative, flyaway arch. There was a restlessness about her that seemed as enticing as her more obvious charms. He was enchanted by her, as he was sure Tara would be.
    And he was heartily glad to do anything that might irritate Warren.
    Last night, when he hadn’t been involved in sailing the ship, he’d spent some time with her. She’d spoken lovingly of her mother, and admitted that the gossip about her was true. She had walked out of her own wedding, but she’d had no choice. He couldn’t help but be amused. She was a fighter, striking back in the only way she knew how. If she had worried that she might be judged here, then she didn’t really understand this land of runaways yet. She would.
    Ah, well, Jarrett would delightedly host her in his household as long as she wished,