Heir To Danger. Valerie Parv
that she’d broken Wandarra’s law and she was prepared to make amends. But dear heaven, not like this.
Panic swirled through her but she resisted by focusing on how much she despised Tom for allowing his friend to act as judge and jury over her.
Her inner tension reached boiling point as Tom said something to Wandarra in an Aboriginal language. Probably deciding the finer points of her fate, she thought as a strange sense of disconnection settled over her, as if her mind was floating away from her body. Why didn’t they just get on with it, she wondered from this new vantage point? Wandarra argued furiously, but Tom held his ground. She saw Wandarra give a grudging nod and back away, hefting the spear.
Then a shadow fell across her, jerking her back to full awareness as Tom stepped between her and the other man.
Finally, she understood.
Tom intended to take the spear meant for her.
“I won’t let you do this,” she said.
“You’re not exactly in a position to stop me.”
A moment ago she’d thought him despicable. Now she could hardly believe he was prepared to endure the penalty that would have been hers. In her own country she had bodyguards whose job was to put themselves in harm’s way for her. But Tom didn’t know who she was. He wasn’t from her country. Yet she couldn’t mistake his intention. His demeanor showed that nothing would dissuade him from following his chosen course.
“Why?” she asked, needing to know this at least.
“The cave spirits must be placated,” he said.
She wondered if he’d deliberately misunderstood her question. “Is there no other way?”
“None,” he stated. “Trust me. This is for the best.”
For her, not for him. She couldn’t let him suffer for her mistake. But moving past him was like trying to shift solid rock. He’d planted himself so she had no space to maneuver. All she could do was hold her breath and wait.
Over her shoulder she saw Wandarra balance the spear lightly in his hand, sunlight glinting off the tip. Tom had told her to brace herself against the rock wall. She was pressing so hard the grit drove itself into her palms but she hardly noticed. Her rubbery legs felt as if they wouldn’t hold her up much longer but she refused to give her nemesis the satisfaction of fainting at his feet.
Everything in her screamed that this couldn’t be happening, but it was.
She closed her eyes and prayed.
Tom fixed his gaze on Wandarra as the other man backed away as far as the limited space allowed. Under traditional law a transgressor was speared in the fleshy part of the thigh, causing maximum pain with minimum physical damage. The punishment was rare now, replaced by modern remedies, but Tom still encountered the occasional incident. He had never dreamed he would face the wrong end of a spear himself, and his insides churned. He was well aware of the damage the weapon could inflict.
Better to him than to the woman behind him.
Wandarra began to chant in his language, telling the spirits of the cave what he was about to do and why, so they knew that a wrong was being righted and they wouldn’t take their wrath out on Wandarra’s people.
The chant ended and Tom braced himself.
He hadn’t counted on the woman’s stubbornness. Instead of staying safely sheltered by his body, she planted her palms in the small of his back and pushed with all her might, knocking him off balance for a crucial instant.
In the same instant, Wandarra let the spear fly.
Recovering his balance, Tom heard her let out the faintest whimper. Swearing profusely, he turned to see the spear jutting from her boot, the point having penetrated her calf. Her knees sagged but she stayed upright, staring in disbelief at the still quivering weapon. The blood had washed out of her face and he suspected her grip on the rock wall was all that held her up.
He whirled on Wandarra. “Enough. This is settled now.” He didn’t drop his gaze until the other man nodded and turned away.
Dropping to one knee beside her, Tom braced his hand on her thigh. Her sharp intake of breath told him she knew what he was about to do. He saw her close her eyes again and pull in a deep breath.
There was no easy way so he made it fast. In a fluid movement he pulled the spear out, hearing her choke back a cry of pain. Tossing the spear aside, he gathered her into his arms. “You stupid woman. Let’s get you out of here.”
Any moment now she would wake up in her curtained bed in Dashara with her personal servants fussing over her, Shara thought. She must have stayed up too late last night working. When she opened her eyes, the handsome stranger who had been willing to take a spear meant for her would be no more than a bizarre dream.
Experimentally she opened her eyes and almost closed them again at the sight of the man cradling her against his chest. Her imagination could never have conjured up such a breathtaking experience.
He was as tall and self-assured as the men of her country, carrying her down the boulder-strewn hillside as if he owned it. He held her effortlessly, her weight no more than an inconvenience. When he’d swung her into his arms, she’d automatically linked her hands around his neck and hung on. Under her fingers, the corded muscles of his neck felt as solid as a tree trunk.
Shadowed by his bushman’s hat, Tom’s eyes and hair were a matching shade of sable. Beneath thick sooty lashes, fine lines framed a hooded gaze, from years spent scanning these far horizons, she assumed. The grim line of his mouth hinted at a disturbing sensuousness.
Close up, the tribal markings on his chest looked even more awesome. What must he have endured to acquire them?
Heat radiated through her, not all of it traceable to her throbbing calf. She knew she was focusing on details to avoid facing the truth. This man she didn’t know had tried to put himself on the line to protect her. By interfering, she’d offended his code of honor, she assumed. But she had her own code, and it precluded letting someone else pay for her mistake.
His hold on her stopped barely short of crushing. She dragged in a deep breath, regretting it almost at once as she was assailed by his musky man scent. This had gone far enough. “You can put me down. I can walk,” she insisted.
His hold didn’t loosen. “No need. We’re almost there.”
She strained to see anything around his daunting bulk, then stopped as the movement brought her into closer contact with his hard body. “Where is there?”
“My vehicle.”
Shifting her weight to one arm, he opened the door of a four-wheel-drive Jeep with the other and eased her onto the front seat, leaving the door open. She closed her eyes for a moment as the stored heat inside the car stole what remained of her breath.
“Are you all right?”
She forced her eyes open. “For someone who was speared, I’m fine. What do you think?”
He retrieved a compact first-aid kit from the back of the vehicle and opened it on the floor at her feet. “If you’d stayed put, you wouldn’t be injured.”
“I couldn’t let you suffer on my account.”
He shrugged this off. “You don’t take orders easily, do you?”
Did he sense that she was more accustomed to giving them? “Your friend Wandarra has his system of justice. I have mine.”
“Well, next time, try not to let it lead you into trouble.” He reached for her damaged boot.
She steeled herself, surprised to see him wince in sympathy when she was unable to suppress a cry. “You wouldn’t have been any better off,” she snapped, angry at herself for feeling so weak. Or was it because of the unwelcome feelings Tom’s touch stirred up? “I suppose you’re so tough that you would