“Oh.”
Rising from the water, she found Theo staring at her. Feet sunk into the shallows, he stood straight and apparently unaware of how much he affected her. All that chiseled muscle, those broad thighs beckoning her to lay a hand on him, and, oh dear, the ridges of his stomach leading the eye down to look at his groin—
“A river goddess,” he said, smiling. “Where have you come from? What have I done to deserve you?”
She blinked, then shook off some of the water dripping from her nose and eyelashes. A goddess? Embarrassed, she bowed her head.
“I’m the one who should be asking that.” She gathered a rope of her hair and wrung it out.
“Never.”
That struck like a spear into her middle.
Happiness wasn’t normal for her. That one extra comment, it hit and tipped over the pile of compliments and joy that had been building up for hours. Too much, too soon. She felt sick. Deep inside a black mess of insecurities and anguish waited to boil over. Too damn much.
She wished she could go back to how she’d felt only moments before. Glumly, she turned from him.
“Claire?”
She picked her way back up the bank, the rounded rocks slipping underfoot. From the looks of the sun it must be midmorning. She barely hesitated before aiming for the pile of clothing.
“Claire, don’t turn from me. Perhaps it’s time to remind you of my rules of politeness.” His words seethed with threat.
A distant crackle drew her attention. She slipped automatically into the alert state training had drummed into her—scanning the shadows under the trees a few yards away, listening. The revolver was holstered in Theo’s belt at her feet. She bent, scooped up the belt, and nestled her hand on the butt. The gun slid out easily. A nice weight. It would kick up and back when fired.
“There’s nothing here.” Theo stalked up behind her. “My men have been through here hours ago. If you’ve seen a footprint, it’ll be one of theirs.”
“No,” she murmured, still checking the perimeter. “Not a footprint.” Something is out there and running. Maybe coming this way.
The loud crunching and rustling of something big moving fast came from the right, where the shrubs were barely four yards away.
She kicked into sharp time. The sound of Theo’s next words slurred and stretched. A black bear burst from the tree line, heading straight for them. Droplets of sprayed blood glistened, falling slowly, like red diamonds frozen in the sun. The bear was wounded and angry.
A bullet might stop it quickly, or it might keep coming and shred them both before it died.
“Get back,” she yelled to Theo. She aimed at the head—Damn, I hate killing it—then shifted and hit the foreleg. The impact spun the leg back and out before the bear compensated and came on, limping and even angrier. She side-stepped fast, then danced about wildly with her hands waving. “Hey! Here, stupid!”
Too heavy to shift direction quickly, it lumbered round, swung its head her way, and came for her, eyes gleaming. Yes, one very angry bear. Claire took off, sprinting, toes digging into dirt. It’s coming! She could hear Theo bellowing. Ignore him. Mustn’t get too far ahead, or the bear’ll turn back.
A yard from plunging into the cool shadows of the forest, she heard a boom—echoing in sharp time like a cannon fired in small room. The high shriek of the bear followed, then two more shots, and silence except for the stamp of human footsteps from the forest and the burble of the dying exhalation of the bear.
One of Theo’s house guards, rifle in hand, jogged from the trees near where the bear had burst forth. She strode to him, sharp time bleeding away—her steps slowing to normal. When she grabbed at a handful of lapel, his meaty hand intercepted hers and crushed her fingers, tried to twist her arm.
Another guard came up behind her. She ignored him. This one was the idiot.
“Why?” she asked him, attempting to shake him by the shirt despite the pain in her fingers. “You fool! I had it chasing me! Why’d you kill it?” She glanced away, saw Theo coming, and the bear’s bloody corpse on the ground.
“Stop.” The second guard reached under, taking advantage of her distraction to bend her wrist, aiming for an arm lock. “Let him go. Put down the gun.”
“Frick!” Dankyo. She knew that controlled voice and the arm pressing on her. Theo was fit, but Dankyo felt like he’d been packed with muscle under high pressure. She growled and thought hard about not doing something seriously painful to him.
Succeeded, just. Instead she spoke through her teeth. “Release me.”
He pushed and twisted; then her counter move was efficiently thwarted by his.