Guarding the Princess(78)
He continued to stare at her. “You’re not going to marry him?”
She smiled, a little tremulous, excitement glittering in her eyes, exhilaration shining around her.
“No,” she whispered. “If I marry, Brandt, it’s going to be for love.”
He felt as if he was on the edge of a precipice, and she was asking him to jump without a chute. He was so damn afraid that what she was promising wouldn’t work out. The princess and the mercenary.
Was it even possible?
“If you help me kill Amal, Brandt, I can be free.”
“No,” he said. “No way am I letting you do this for your brothers. I can’t allow you to have blood on your hands. It’s not you, Dalilah, to kill a man. You don’t even hurt animals.”
“He’s not a man. He’s a monster. You said it yourself—he’s evil.”
Brandt shook his head.
“I’m not taking you back there. I’m not getting you killed.” He hesitated, his brain racing through options. She was right about one thing—they couldn’t run forever. If Amal did find their tracks off the road and into this controlled game area, there was a very real chance he’d end up tracking Brandt all the way back to his farm, and Amal could reach the farm before reinforcements ever arrived from Omair. This could end in a violent confrontation either way. He cursed inwardly. He’d rather bring the confrontation to Amal, on his own terms.
“I’ll go back myself,” he said. “I’ll hide you here, up in those cliffs.”
“What?”
“You hide out here in the gorge—and if I don’t return, you make your way back down to the main road and start walking south. There’ll be a truck at some point. Stop the truck, get the driver to take you to the first village, find a phone and call Omair. He’ll come get you. Tell him my debt is paid. Tell him I went after Amal.” He opened his door, got out and leaned over into the backseat, began repacking a box.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving you supplies.”
Dalilah flung open her door, went up to him, grabbed him by the arm. “Brandt, stop. Look at me!”
He stilled, and slowly met her eyes.
“Just how are you planning on doing this alone?”
He said nothing.
Blood drained from her face. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “You’re going to lure him away and drive until Skorokoro runs into the ground? And then he’ll kill you.”
“Dalilah—”
Her face hardened. “That’s rich—make me fall in love with you, make me abandon my country and my obligations, then you go on a suicide mission?”
“How,” he said very quietly, “can you ever think you could want to be with me on my land in the remote Botswana wilderness, Dalilah? You’re riding on an adrenaline rush. When you sober up in a few days, you’ll see. I’ll be history in your eyes.”
She barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, and here I thought you said you knew me! You know nothing, Brandt Stryker, about my love for this continent, about who I really want to be. Who I can be. But you had the gumption to show me—you can’t abandon me now.” Her eyes glittered with emotion, and hot spots of color rode high on her cheeks. “And I’m not going to let you do this alone.”
She placed her hand against his face—skin soft, warm. “Either we do this together or we let those villagers die.”
“If we do it together I might be letting you die,” he said.
“Then we go out in a blaze...we go like Thelma and Louise, like Bonnie and Clyde, like...I don’t know—like Brandt and Dalilah.”
He opened his mouth, but she put her fingers to her lips. “I don’t want to face a future without trying to make one with you, Stryker. A team. Like you said back at the cliff, one rock at a time. And then when we’re done, you take me home. Your home.”
Conflict twisted so tight in Brandt he couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She’d just given him everything...the whole world, a future, to fight for. A reason to live. To try again. Another chance.
And everything to lose.
His eyes burned as he met the fierce passion in her gaze. And he knew—he knew with every molecule in his being, that he loved this woman. This woman who never stopped surprising him, who was his match in so many ways and more. A woman who could challenge him and take him to task when he got out of hand.
She wanted him. This princess who’d never been with any other man—she wanted him to take her home.
To his bed.
Dare he do this? Could he ambush Amal, take him out and keep her alive at the same time? All he had was the jeep, one rifle, shells, a panga and a knife.