lips, hating the hot tears behind her eyes and the sensation that she was on the verge of collapse.
It was ridiculous to feel relief, hearing she was safe for tonight. She was still in terrible danger. Even so, her exhausted body reacted to the news by slumping abruptly.
Firm hands caught her upper arms as she sank, taking her weight and easing her descent to the floor.
His hands were big and hard, yet surprisingly gentle. Tori heard the clank of metal as he withdrew, hunkering before her.
‘Sorry.’ The word wobbled and she tried again. ‘I just...’ She looked up into dark eyes. ‘What else did they say? What are they going to do with us?’
Did she imagine that his expression turned blank? In this light it was impossible to tell.
‘Nothing about you.’ He paused, then continued slowly. ‘I have no proof, but I suspect they’ll take you over the border.’
Like a smuggled commodity? Tori bit her bottom lip. She’d heard stories of the illegal slave trade, particularly in women. Nausea rose as she contemplated where she might end up.
‘If that’s so there might be a chance to escape. Maybe some of them will stay here.’ Tori knew she was grasping at straws but it was better than giving up hope.
‘I can guarantee it.’ His tone grabbed her attention.
‘Why? What else did you hear?’
He shrugged those wide shoulders and sank cross-legged before her. Despite the heavy chain and his injuries he looked at ease. Strange how his air of confidence reassured her.
‘Their leader is my enemy. I think it fair to assume he’ll be more focused on me than you.’ There was a note in that deep voice that sounded almost like wry humour. Grim lines bracketed his mouth.
Suddenly Tori remembered the gesture one of their captors had made as he’d chained this man to the wall. One man had asked a question and another had laughed, a sound that had sent a chill skittering down her backbone. He’d said something sharp and dragged his finger across his throat in a gesture that crossed all languages. Death.
They were going to kill this man.
She should warn him.
Except even as she thought it she realised he knew. Tori read it in that stern face, a chiaroscuro masterpiece of male strength, and knew he wouldn’t surrender to fate. Not with that pugnacious set to his jaw.
Instinctively she reached out, her hand fleetingly touching his, feeling living warmth flow into her chilled fingers. ‘What can we do?’
For long seconds he surveyed her. Then gave another infinitesimal shrug. ‘Check for a way out.’
‘I’ve done that. It’s all I’ve done for the last five hours or so.’ That and try not to panic.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a hairpin?’
‘For picking the lock on your handcuff?’ Tori shook her head. ‘I don’t need hairpins with a ponytail.’
He watched the swish of her hair around her shoulders and something unexpected zipped through her. Something other than fear and despair.
Tori stilled.
‘And I unfortunately didn’t think to bring bolt cutters for the chain.’
She choked down a laugh. It was only mildly amusing, but in her emotional state any humour was a welcome break from constant fear.
‘The windows are too small even for you.’ He paused. ‘The roof?’
He rose in a single fluid motion that revealed enviable core strength and left Tori gawping. A short time ago he’d been unconscious.
‘Come.’ He extended his hand.
She didn’t know if it was the command in his tone or not, but a second later her hand was in his and he was drawing her up. They stood so close that she identified the tang of cinnamon and male, and the comforting smell of horse, before he stepped away, surveying the roof.
‘Here.’ He turned and beckoned.
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘Hands on my shoulders. I’ll lift you so you can check for a way out.’
‘But you can’t get out.’ Her gaze dropped to the manacle on his wrist.
‘That’s no reason for you not to try.’
That voice, as smooth and rich as her favourite coffee, warmed her as his gaze captured hers. Tori’s racing thoughts stilled. She felt a moment of communion, as if this stranger understood the guilt that made her protest even as the idea of escape made her thrill with excitement.
‘What’s your name?’
The question made her pause. What would it be like to hear him ask that in different circumstances? There was something about this man...the resonance of his deep voice, his inner strength in the face of adversity, his sureness...that drew her.
Her heart beat hard against her ribs.
‘Tori. And you?’
‘You may call me Ash.’
Before she could wonder at his phrasing, he continued.
‘If you can get onto the roof and away, there’s a chance you can raise the alert before daybreak.’
He didn’t have to spell out what would happen when day came. That captor’s slicing gesture was vivid in her mind.
‘But I don’t know where I am. Or where to go.’
Long fingers folded around her hand, steadying her. ‘You don’t have to know. Get away from the hut and the campfire. Stay low. When you’re a safe distance out, circle the camp. You’ll eventually come across the trail where you entered. Keep out of sight and follow the trail.’
‘And hope to find the road or a village?’
‘You have a better idea?’
Tori shook her head. It was their best chance. Possibly Ash’s only chance.
‘Let’s do this.’ She planted her palms on his shoulders, then sucked in a breath as he bent, wrapped his big hands around her and lifted.
* * *
It was probably only fifteen minutes before they admitted defeat. To Ashraf it felt like hours.
Frustrating hours, with that cursed chain curtailing his movements. They had only been able to explore one end of the roof and it was disappointingly sturdy.
The slashing pain across his ribs had become a sear of agony. His head pounded. Stiff muscles ached from boosting his companion high, then holding her up while she strained and twisted, trying to find a weakness in the roof structure she could exploit.
