Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,11

all he could think about suddenly was the scraps of silky G-strings he’d seen, and touched, in her drawer. And what she might be wearing now. A scrap of that same sensuous fabric was probably all that separated him from the most intimate parts of her body.

Brandt inhaled, readjusting the rifle across his chest, his tiny flashlight panning the ground. He figured Amal and his thugs were probably ransacking the lodge in search of Dalilah right now, not anticipating someone had whisked her away. As far as he could tell, only one man had seen him trying to rescue the princess. And he’d killed that man.

But come daybreak, they’d see his boot tracks. They’d come at a clip.

Brandt began to move at a faster trot, wanting to reach the escarpment and descend into thicker riverine foliage as soon as possible. They’d be less visible there. The locals had already spotted—and stripped—his plane, which meant there was a chance he and Dalilah might be seen, too. Although he hoped the looming storm would keep most humans battened down in villages.

Dalilah readjusted her position on his back, finding a better grip with her thighs. Desire swelled hot and sudden in his groin as her body rubbed against his. Brandt cursed softly to himself—physically, this woman really did it for him, in every way. She was his type, as Carla had been. And look what had happened to Carla.

It hit Brandt hard right there—no matter what dangers the next hours, days or weeks brought, his biggest personal challenge was going to be proximity to the princess herself.

He had a feeling she was going to be a little too hot for him to handle, and Brandt had zero intention of getting burned again.

Chapter 3

Dalilah felt herself slipping down Brandt’s back and once again tried to maneuver herself higher, squeezing her thighs tighter around his body as he trotted through long dry grass. But he was big between her legs and the strain of holding on was making her muscles burn. The back of his shirt was damp from exertion and his neck smelled very faintly of aftershave. It made her wonder about him—who he really was, where he’d been going before he’d suddenly been diverted into this mission. She wondered if he’d had any idea it was going to turn into this—a manhunt.

Thunder grumbled again and the wind felt hotter. She peered into the darkness trying to get her bearings, but there was nothing to orient her, just shadowed shapes of trees, scrub, rocky outcrops.

He stopped suddenly, breathing hard.

“What is it?” she whispered near his ear.

“Elephants,” he said as he set her gently down to the ground. “Over there.” He pointed.

Dalilah heard the crack of a branch, and a crunch. Then a monstrous, ghostly shape seemed to materialize out of the darkness itself. More followed, big hulking forms moving slowly across the land, ears silently flapping, curved tusks gleaming ghostly white. A sense of awe washed over her skin and she rubbed her arms, instinctively moving closer to Brandt, knowing at the same time a small machete and rifle were nothing against these beasts.

Neither of them spoke, just watched in humble silence as the ghostly gray Goliaths moved quietly in single file across the plain. There was a baby behind one and Dalilah’s thoughts turned to the vicious crocodile fight she’d witnessed back at the lodge, the Czech with the gin and tonic, the strange portent of danger. She glanced at Brandt. It was a feeling she should have given more weight to.

The matriarch leading the herd paused suddenly and turned to face Dalilah and Brandt, lifting her trunk as she sniffed them, her ears flaring out wide. Brandt reached for Dalilah’s hand, and he brought his mouth close to her ear.

“Whatever you do, don’t run,” he whispered, breath warm against her skin. “Out here, only food runs. Besides, there is nothing here that you can outrun.”

She swallowed, heart banging against her ribs. He gave her hand a squeeze, reading her fear, just letting her know he was there, and Dalilah moved closer to him. His air of confidence made her feel safe.

Satisfied that the humans posed no threat, the giant pachyderm turned, and lumbered on. Her tribe followed.

“Wow.” Dalilah exhaled after the night had swallowed the animals. She realized she was shaking.

“See how all the Mopani trees here are short and squat?” Brandt whispered. “They’re eaten like that, by the elephants.”

Dalilah realized she was still holding his hand tight, and she awkwardly extracted