Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,41
twitching at the corners of her own gorgeous mouth.
“Damn,” he said softly as the laughter eased and tears of mirth leaked into the dust around his own eyes. “You take the cake, woman.” He gave another snort of laughter, then, as he sobered, he said more quietly, “I could really get to like you, you know.”
She went silent. They sat like that for a while, hearts racing, adrenaline pounding, a kinetic energy arcing between them, pulling them together even as they both fought against the sexual impulse. Slowly, very slowly, Brandt reached up, even as his brain screamed don’t, and he touched her, wiping the dirt from her brow with the pad of his thumb.
Her gaze held his, dark, loaded. His groin went hard and he couldn’t breathe.
“You’re getting dirty, Princess.”
She broke the gaze, looking down at the diamond ring on her hand in the sling.
Before he could say anything, she’d turned away from him, hair falling in a curtain across her cheek, hiding her expression.
“Dalilah?”
“It’s nothing.” But her voice was thick.
Brandt frowned as empathy squeezed his chest. He was feeling all sorts of emotions he didn’t want, but in spite of his best efforts, Princess was winning, and he was powerless around her. Brandt didn’t like the feeling.
Irritably he grabbed the rifle and climbed out of the jeep. He dropped to his knees and peered under the chassis. Oil pooled heavy and dark in the sand, confirming his worst fears—a ruptured sump. He reached under the vehicle to dip a finger into the liquid to be certain.
“Brandt!”
“Just a sec. I need to—”
“Brandt!”
He bumped his head as he jerked back out from under the jeep and peered up over the hood. His heart stalled at the terror on her face. She pointed.
“He’s coming back!”
Brandt spun round. Holy crap. The bull was not content with his tree—the big bad pachyderm was heading their way in another cloud of boiling dust.
He braced a hand on top of the door, hurtling clean into the driver’s seat and dumping the rifle on her lap. Firing the ignition, he hit the gas and slammed the gears into Reverse, wheeling hard and spinning the jeep around a hundred and eighty degrees. He floored the accelerator, bombing forward through scrub, bashing against rocks. The elephant loomed in the rearview mirror and the trail of black blood leaking from the jeep’s innards grew thinner and thinner. Panic clawed at Brandt’s throat—the engine was going to seize any second now, but the bull was closing the gap. He began planning how to get Dalilah out of the vehicle should they stall.
“He’s falling back!” Dalilah yelled suddenly. She was twisted round, rifle balanced on the back of her seat, aiming and ready to fire with one hand.
Brandt glanced up into the rearview mirror. The elephant was dropping back into a trot.
He slowed the jeep, but kept going until the animal turned and started retreating, this time heading toward a faint wisp of gold spindrift rising above the Mopani scrub. Relief gushed through Brandt’s chest—the bull was rejoining his herd, finally. But the jeep’s engine coughed, choked and stalled.
He sat back, breathing hard.
Dalilah was, too.
Brandt pounded his fist on the dash, angry. This was a good vehicle—it could have gotten them far. He might have been able to mend the oil pan, but now that he’d run the engine without oil until it died, it was toast. Their jeep was dead, done, gone.
She watched him, then glanced nervously into the cloud of dust settling in their wake, silence suddenly loud, not even the call of a bird, or the sound of insects.
“You really can’t fix it?”
“No,” he said. “I can’t goddamn fix it.”
He raked his hand through his dark blond hair again, dust making it stand up in front. He swore again, softly.
“I’m sorry, Dalilah.”
“Brandt, you saved my life a couple of times over already. You have nothing to be sorry about.” She reached for his thigh. A touch, just fingertips against skin. A quiver ran through his muscles, like a small electrical shock chasing over his skin.
“And now that I’m still alive,” she said softly, voice thick, “I have to say, that was truly incredible to witness. Honest.”
He looked slowly into her eyes.
“You mean it,” he said. It wasn’t a question. She really did get off on the thrill. Everything about this woman was exciting, unanticipated. There was nothing safe about her at all.
“I keep forgetting,” he said quietly, devouring her with his eyes. “You’re no newcomer to Africa. How