To Love a Man (6 page)

They wore uniforms and they had been watching her. That much was clear at first glance. Lisa colored, snatching up the towel again and holding it in front of her in an effort to hide her body from their avid gazes. The fixed way they were staring at her, the glazed intensity in their eyes, their very silence terrified her. She began to back away slowly. One of the men, thick featured and heavily built, moved after her. He looked vaguely familiar. . . . The other man, younger and slimmer, moved too. They were stalking her.

Lisa’s heart was pounding like a drum in her ears. She backed until she felt her foot touch the edge of the water, still clutching the towel before her like a shield. Desperately she glanced around, realizing that she had no place to run. The shallow creek offered no protection. Her only hope was that Riley had missed her and was even now nearby, looking for her. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she opened her mouth to scream. To her horror, only a strangled squeak emerged from her suddenly dry throat. At the sound, the apish-looking older man smiled. His eyes were very small, a pale, watery blue. His hair was whitish. . . . Lisa stared at him with the same fascination she would have shown a cobra. Then, as he took another step toward her, she turned to run. Instantly they were upon her.

She could have screamed then. As soon as their hands closed on her body, clutching hurtfully at her naked shoulders and waist and arms, she felt the sound welling hysterically in her throat. But it never got a chance to come out. A sweaty palm clapped over her mouth, stifling any outcry. Lisa kicked and clawed and squirmed frantically as she was swung right up off her feet and carried some fifteen feet from the water’s edge, where the tall grass swayed gently in a shaggy, golden carpet. Then she was borne toward the ground, still struggling with a strength born of terror, the salty-resting hand still covering her mouth.

As she felt the grass prickle gently against her bare back, she braced her feet and lunged upward in a desperate bid for freedom.

“What’s-a matter, babe? Ain’t we handsome enough for you?” the white-haired man sneered breathlessly as she was thrust back down with ludicrous ease. Immediately he dropped on top of her, his weight knocking the breath from her lungs. Lisa’s nails went with unerring instinct for his eyes.

“Grab her hands!” he bellowed, and the younger man hurried to comply, laughing as he dragged Lisa’s arms over her head.

“No, no, no!” Her head thrashed frantically from side to side, unable to believe even then that this unthinkable thing, this rape, was really going to happen. Then, with desperate cunning, she forced her body to lie still as his khaki-clad legs forced themselves between hers. Maybe she could take him off guard. . . .

“That’s better.” He grunted approval of her apparent surrender, his hand moving to fumble with his zipper. Lisa’s mouth was suddenly free and she opened it to scream. The sound was silenced by his mouth, fetid and slimy as it closed on hers, his tongue thrusting hotly between her teeth. His hands found her breasts, pinching roughly at the delicate pink nipples. Lisa thought despairingly that with his strangling of her scream she had lost her last chance. Still her body writhed in protest, her bare back and buttocks scraping painfully over the ground. Then, horribly, she felt the touch of his hot, throbbing maleness against her inner thigh.

She bit his tongue. The action was so simple, so obvious, that Lisa couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her sooner. He screamed as her teeth met through the soft tissue, his hands coming up to close in a death grip around her throat. She didn’t let go. With grim determination she kept her teeth buried in his tongue while his partner yanked at her hair and her victim howled and choked her. Her throat hurt horribly under the cruel grip. Lisa knew that he would soon crush her windpipe if she didn’t release him. But she wasn’t sure she could unlock her teeth even if she wanted to. Besides, she felt curiously detached from what was happening. Her eyes were wide open and glassy as she stared with dimming vision into the pain-contorted face above her. How long had it been since her starved lungs had managed to suck in any air? How long . . .

“Lutz!” The roar penetrated even Lisa’s slipping consciousness.

“Holy shit, it’s Eastman!” the younger man muttered.

Lisa felt the grip on her neck loosen fractionally and managed to roll her eyes in the direction from which the sound had come. It
was
Sam. . . . Her teeth unclenched of their own volition. The white-haired man rolled to one side, then stumbled to his feet, one hand clapped to his mouth. Lisa saw red rivulets of blood running beneath his hand to drip from his chin. . . . As she gulped in shuddering swallows of air she felt fiercely glad. She hoped that she’d severed his tongue. . . .

Both men were on their feet now, facing Sam, their backs turned to her. Lisa wanted to stand up, too, but to her horror she found she couldn’t move. Her useless limbs were racked with tremors, and she lay on the ground as naked and helpless as a newborn babe.

“Get back to camp.”

The curt order, addressed to her attackers, came from Sam. His face was stony, his eyes hard as agates as he stared the two men down. He looked big, strong, and thoroughly dangerous standing there with his feet braced slightly apart and his arms crossed over his chest, and Lisa was devoutly thankful that his anger was not directed at her.

“She led us on,” the younger man whined.

“Yeah, she stripped herself naked with us watching. What was we supposed to do?” the white-haired man added sullenly.

“I said get back to camp!” This time Sam’s voice cracked like a bullwhip.

Lisa opened her mouth to deny what had been said. Not a sound would come out. She could only watch speechlessly as the two men slunk off toward camp, the older one still holding his mouth with one hand and fumbling with his zipper with the other.

Sam strolled toward her until he stood directly over her, his big body completely blocking out her view of the sky. He looked down at her distastefully, as if she were a piece of smelly garbage that he had found on his doorstep. Lisa realized with rising fury that he believed what those thugs had said. She could read nothing but contempt in Sam’s blue eyes as they traveled slowly down her body, naked and bruised and sprawled limply in the grass.

“Get up” The command was harsh. Lisa blinked. She couldn’t have moved if she had wanted to. Her muscles seemed to be paralyzed.

“Get up!” There was no doubt that he was furiously angry. It showed in the bite of his voice, the sapphire blaze of his eyes. Lisa licked her dry lips, closing her eyes.

The next thing she was aware of were his hands moving swiftly over her body. Her eyes flew open and she saw Sam kneeling beside her, rage still glittering in his eyes. He ran his fingers carefully along her narrow rib cage, then moved on to explore the smooth length of her arms and legs. Lisa shuddered away from his touch, moaning and wrapping her arms around her body in an age-old gesture of feminine protectiveness. Sam stopped what he was doing to stare down at her, his hands dropping to his sides.

“Are you hurt?” he asked sharply. Lisa’s eyes were wild as she stared back at him; she could no longer distinguish friend from enemy.

“I said, are you hurt?” His voice was harsh. Lisa gulped in air, managing to shake her head in the negative. Her lips were trembling uncontrollably; words were beyond her now.

“Are you sure?” A muscle jumped convulsively at the corner of his mouth. His lips were clamped so tightly together that white lines radiated from their edges to the sides of his nose. He was obviously controlling himself with great effort. Lisa, shivering, was very much aware that some of that explosive temper was directed at her.

“I’m—sure.” She forced out the words through chattering teeth. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep, block out the whole terrifying ordeal.

“Played rougher than you liked, did they?” he bit out. Lisa gasped, flinching as if he had struck her. He couldn’t seriously believe that she had wanted what had happened, could he? Her eyes searched his face, looking in vain for some sign of softening.

“If you wanted it that badly, honey, all you had to do was let me know. We could have worked something out,” he added, drawling.

As the import of that statement sunk in, a white-hot burst of rage lent sudden strength to Lisa’s limbs. Gasping, abruptly sitting upright, her mouth contorting with fury, Lisa clenched her fist and swung it at him with instinctive violence. The blow connected squarely with the bridge of his nose, snapping his head back.

“Goddammit!” he yelped, his eyes widening with surprise and then narrowing with anger and pain. His hand came up to gingerly test his nose. “You little bitch, I ought to beat hell out of you for that!”

He glared at her; Lisa glared back just as angrily.

“Why don’t you?” she dared him with breathless fury, too angry to consider the possible consequences. “You’re big enough! So come on, bully, hit me! After all, you’ve done it before!”

She was so angry that she was shaking with it, too angry to take full heed of the fact that he could break her into little pieces with one hand if he chose—and at the moment he looked to be in the mood to do it.

“Don’t tempt me,” he snorted, some of the taut whiteness fading from around his mouth as he surveyed the picture she made, sprawled naked in the grass, her blond hair in wild disarray and her green eyes flashing defiance. His eyes darkened as they took in the silky texture of her skin, tawny pale against the golden-brown grass. Then he smiled tauntingly.

“You look right at home, naked.” His words were as insulting as the look he passed over her. Lisa stuttered over a string of foul names for him, none of which quite made it out of her mouth.

“They attacked me, you pig! They were trying to rape me!” she finally managed to spit at him. Bloodlust shone from her eyes; she ached to kill him.

“Is that so?” That drawling voice was like gasoline to the already blazing fire of her anger. “Then tell me something, honey: if you’re so innocent in all of this, what the hell were you doing out here in the first place? You’re supposed to be confined to your tent, if I remember correctly. And where are your clothes? I don’t see them lying around anywhere, looking as if they were torn from your struggling body! All the evidence backs up what Lutz and Brady said: you led them on. Granted, they may have gotten a little carried away, but the way I see it, that’s more your fault than theirs!”

“You bastard!”

Lisa sprang to her feet, her fists clenching at her sides. Sam rose just as quickly; this time he was expecting her violence. As she lunged at him, he feinted, catching her by her hands, pulling her off balance. Then his shoulder made bruising contact with her soft stomach. Before she knew what was happening, he was hoisting her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Her head dangled helplessly, and her hair tangled down past his hips. Lisa struggled furiously, cursing as foully as she knew how, pounding his muscled back with her fists. The soft, taunting sound of his laughter flayed her like a many-thonged whip as he strode off with her.

“Last time you should have told me you like it rough. I would have obliged,” he remarked conversationally to her bare, heaving backside.

Outraged, Lisa sank her sharp little teeth into his back, feeling them sink through the heavy cotton of his shirt and into his flesh with intense satisfaction. Sam yelped, then whacked her bottom so hard that she screamed.

“Behave,” he said, the laughter suddenly, ominously absent from his voice. “Or I’ll make you damned sorry.”

The grimness of his tone convinced her as no amount of threats would have done that he meant what he said. Lisa was so furious that she could have chewed nails in half without a blink, but she had just enough sense left to know when to quit while she was ahead. Seething, she lay limply across his shoulder until a familiar landmark jolted her with the realization that they were almost there. God, he couldn’t mean to walk through camp with her hanging naked over his shoulder—could he?

“Put me down!” she ordered imperiously. He continued to stride on as if he hadn’t heard.

“Sam, put me down!” They had rounded the bend that brought them within sight of the camp.

“What’s the matter? You were ready enough to let Lutz and Brady—and me—see you naked. Don’t tell me a larger audience turns you off!”

“Dammit, they tried to rape me!” she cried, frustrated at his stubborn disbelief and furious at the same time.

“Oh, sure—just like I did that night in your tent, right?” Sam jeered, his voice biting. “Honey, you forget that I’ve seen you in action!”

His long legs continued to eat up the distance to the camp as he spoke. Lisa wriggled frantically, trying to throw herself to the ground, and was rewarded by another sharp slap on her rear.

“Sam, I swear I’m telling the truth!” she wailed in a last, desperate effort to convince him. Then it was too late. He was carrying her through the camp, apparently oblivious to the hoots and catcalls of the gathered men. Lisa shut her eyes tightly, feeling humiliation wash over her entire body in a crimson wave. Then he stopped, and she looked up to find that instead of returning her to her own tent, he had brought her to his, for what purpose she didn’t care to guess. He shouldered his way inside, dumped her unceremoniously on the floor, and turned to secure the tent flap, all without a word. As she struggled into a sitting position, face flushed and silver-blond hair curling wildly around her nakedness, Sam finished the task and swung back to stare down at her. Lisa quivered as she met the unrelenting diamond brilliance of his blue eyes.

“So they tried to rape you, huh?” he said gratingly. “You didn’t want what happened out there at all! Honey, the only way you’re going to convince me of that is to prove it to me!”

III

T
HOSE
blue eyes fixed her like impaling shards of glass. Lisa’s own eyes widened to huge emerald pools as, without a word, Sam began to unbutton his shirt. When at last he shrugged free of it and tossed it aside, Lisa’s gaze traveled with a mixture of admiration and apprehension over the wide, bronzed shoulders and the flexing muscles of his arms and black-furred chest. A heavy leather holster strap crisscrossed his chest to hold a gleaming blue-black gun nestled just to the front of his left armpit. He unbuckled the strap, removing the whole deadly contraption and laying it carefully on the makeshift table. Then his hands moved to the buckle of his belt; he unfastened it with studied casualness. His eyes never left Lisa’s mesmerized face as his fingers searched for and found the zipper of his pants.