The shaking started where she squeezed the rifle’s long barrel and ran up her arm, blurring her vision. He knew what she had been up to. Had always had one eye on her. He’d never made himself vulnerable to her, as she had to him. His pistols were always right where he could reach them. Even when he was finding his pleasure inside her body, he was ready to shoot anything that threatened him, including her brother, maybe even her.
Lorelei cocked the gun, aimed at his arm, and pulled the trigger. The sound of the hammer hitting an empty cartridge widened his eyes. His startled look brought her little satisfaction, because his expression immediately changed to murderous. He shot to his feet and strode toward her, yanking the gun out of her hand.
For a moment she thought he would hit her. She willed him to, so she’d never doubt what kind of man he was again.
“You were never honest with me.”
He ignored her and stalked back over to the fire, which crackled and popped as it caught the wood. With the sun having set and twilight taking over, the flame’s glow flickered across the hard surfaces of his face. He nudged a piece of wood back into the roaring center with the toe of his boot, looking as if he had never smiled a day in his life.
“Aren’t you going to handcuff me, too?” If she taunted him enough he would be pushed over the edge, be forced to give up this cruel act. Christopher could never treat her like this.
He picked up a long stick and used it to stir the fire. “Do I need to?”
She swallowed her fury, trying to match the coldness in his voice when she spoke. “If you want to keep me from slitting your throat while you sleep, then it might be a good idea.”
She expected him to react. Wanted to scratch the indifference off his cool surface. How could he act like he didn’t care when her heart was burning at his betrayal? At least if he would yell or scream or curse her, she would know she hadn’t been such a fool. Hadn’t been so wrong about him.
But his leisurely stroll to his saddlebags mocked her threat. When he turned to her, the firelight reflected off the dull metal handcuffs he held. He dangled them from one finger as if he were bringing her a pretty trinket.
“Lucky for me I keep a second set.” His cocky smile faded when he reached her. “Turn around.”
She lifted her chin, refusing to budge.
He grabbed her by the shoulder and roughly spun her so her back faced him. She almost wanted to laugh. She really hadn’t thought he would do it. Still didn’t. The joke was on her. He twisted one arm behind her back and closed the metal cuff until the iron encircled her wrist, then did the same with the other. He turned her to face him again, this time more gently.
With her arms behind her back, her chest thrust against her white blouse.
He lowered his gaze, making a show at perusing what the position revealed. Her nipples stretched the worn fabric to bursting.
Every nerve in her body was taut. How dared he think he could still arouse her? She wanted to spit in his face, but did nothing, waiting for his next move. Let him see what a miserable man he was. Let him be sorry for what he’d done to her.
He didn’t seem sorry at all. He rested his palms on her shoulders, then slid them down her arms to the cuffs at her wrists. When his arms were around her he pulled her forward, forcing her snugly against him.
“Some men wouldn’t be bothered that you were handcuffed. In fact, seeing you bound would only add to the excitement.” His gaze was hooded, his voice lowered. “You might like it too. Being helpless. Being able to do nothing while I ran my hands over your body, spread your legs…”
She wanted to tell him she’d rather die than let him touch her again, but she was hanging on his every word. Her breath pushed hot and heavy through her nostrils.
He ran his hands back up to her shoulders, then gripped her hard enough to force a gasp. “But I’m not that kind of man.”
He dragged her by a bound arm to where Corey sat, then lowered her to the ground next to her brother. She hated herself for noting that he handled her with more care than he had Corey. It didn’t mean anything, because he didn’t care.
He stood above them and gazed down at her. “Look at me.”
She didn’t want to look. Her cheeks burned, half with embarrassment and half with the desire he had ignited at his simple touch. He had even turned her body against her, using his sexuality as another thing with which to taunt her. Shamefully, she ached for what he had described.
“Look at me, Lorelei.” His words were a harsh command.
She glared up at him just to show him she could. She wasn’t afraid of him, and this wasn’t over.
Shadows cut across his face but she doubted the lack of light made his expression any darker. He showed no compassion at all—and there was no hint that he had ever had any. “This is who I am. Is this the man you wanted to know?”