he said.
“I know.” She pointed to her impressive pile of sticks. “How are you at starting fires?”
He frowned. “I don’t think rubbing two sticks together will work without flint. Or,” he reached in his pocket with his free hand, “I can use this.” He held up a silver lighter, flashing a grin.
After a moment of stunned amazement—he was so damn beautiful when he smiled—Sydney shook her head and chuckled, too. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t. I found this near the wreckage. It must have belonged to Franco or Dell.”
Soon he had a small fire going. Despite her initial misgivings, the wild hare tasted better than she’d expected, and she finished hers quickly, licking the remaining fat from her fingers.
They sat in companionable silence, watching the bright orange sun sink toward the horizon. Clouds were gathering to the west, dark ominous clouds, making her shiver.
“There’s a storm brewing out over the ocean.” Chase must have seen her looking. “We can only hope it will miss us.”
A storm. Sydney shivered. Already she could smell the scent of rain in the air. The atmosphere fairly buzzed with electricity. Great. She’d promised not to touch him again, and all she could think was how much safer she’d feel in his arms.
Chase Savage. A man she barely knew.
A quick glance at him, relaxing on his elbows by their small fire, told her he was completely unaware of her irrational fear. She studied his muscular arms and long legs, and pushed away a stab of desire.
In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Heart pounding, she jumped to her feet.
He looked up in surprise. “Where’re you going?”
Carefully, she avoided looking at him. “For a walk, I think.”
“Don’t be gone too long.” He went back to watching the fire. “That storm will be here in less than an hour.”
Hesitating, she thought about telling him of her fear, the sharp terror that overtook her in the midst of a storm. But knowing he’d believe the worst of her no matter what she said, she held her tongue and moved off down the beach. Skimming rocks into the waves, she watched the storm march closer across the sky and trembled, trying to conquer her anxiety
Scooping up a flat stone, she aimed and flipped her wrist. Another rock hit the ocean with a plop. She hadn’t ever gotten the hang of skimming them across the water either.
Dry-eyed, chest aching, she looked over her shoulder at the small fire. In the dim light of dusk, she could just barely make out his silhouette, now sitting upright, adding sticks to the flames.
Alone.
To paraphrase one of her mother’s favorite country and western songs, she felt so lonesome she could cry.
She shouldn’t feel like this—after all, she was used to being by herself. Solitary. When she’d been a child, her own mother had refused to hold her. Sydney had gotten what comfort she could from an endless parade of nannies. After losing one too many beloved nannies, she had retreated into her own newfound shell. Comfortable there, she’d believed she’d made a good life, a safe life, insulated from hurt. She’d believed she was happy.
Until Prince Reginald had come along. Then, with his honeyed words and silken touch, he’d made her realize there was more to life than simply existing. A few months of his false adoration, and the walls she’d so carefully constructed around herself had crumbled, allowing a surprisingly passionate woman to emerge from the ruins.
Now, in the process of learning to rebuild those damned walls, just for tonight she longed to rip them away and toss them into the ocean.
None of this made sense.
So she walked and tossed rocks and, as the sky darkened and the sound of thunder grew louder, trembled and tried to figure out what she was going to do.
Chase waited until it was nearly dark to go look for her. Then, irritation fueled by frustration, he went after her.
For a woman who’d been Prince Reginald’s plaything, passion certainly appeared to surprise Sydney Conner. Of course, this could all be a game to her, a way to amuse herself until they were rescued and she could return to her manicures and designer clothing. Chase’s experience had taught him beautiful women were like that.
But Sydney seemed…different. More innocent, somehow. Shaking his head, Chase snorted. Kayla had convinced him she was different, too, once upon another life. He’d even believed her when she’d told him the baby she’d carried was his. He’d vowed to be careful whom he trusted after he’d learned Kayla had lied.
Careful? Once again, he burned for a woman. He desired Sydney Conner. Plain and simple. Even knowing she’d been the prince’s lover and carried Reginald’s baby, he wanted her.
He kept to the shelter of the trees, and the first raindrops splattered the leaves as the outer edge of the storm reached the island. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled across the dark sky, briefly reminding him of the horrific moments before the royal jet had crashed.
Where was Sydney?
The next flash of lightning illuminated her, running toward the forest over the rocky beach. The rain began to pelt him in earnest as he took off for her. They met halfway, which told him she’d seen him at the same time he’d seen her.
Some old television commercial with two people leaping into each other’s arms flashed into his mind. Damn, he had it bad. He forced himself to slow his pace.
Drenched, they skidded to a stop in front of each other. Eyes wide and haunted, she pushed her soaked hair away from her face and wrapped her arms around her thin waist.
Chase cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think so. I have this thing about storms.”
“Follow me.” He had to shout to be heard over the roar of the downpour.
They ran through the deluge, lightning flashing all around them. The wind drove the rain in sheets, making it difficult to see. When they reached the shelter, he was relieved to see it still stood, despite the storm’s fury.
At the entrance, she hesitated, glancing back at him while water ran down her face in rivulets. “I—”
“Come on.” Hand in the small of her back, he helped her inside. Out of the rain, the small space felt warmer.
“How long do you think this storm will last?” The tremor in her voice could have been because she was cold.
“It’s huge. This is just the leading edge. I think the waves will surge, so it’s a good thing we’re sheltered up here, away from the beach.”
Still as a statue, she stood motionless in the dark, dripping and shivering. Only a few feet separated them. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and let their combined body heat warm them, but hesitated. “Are you all right?”
“We’re
