Got her. He wanted to howl his triumph.
Until he stared in disbelief as the skirt he clenched in his fist stayed there while she tripped forward. The sound of ripping cloth and her cursing him melded together over his own heavy breaths. He gaped as the worn fabric ripped a swath straight up the side of her thigh to her waist before tearing free. And then she was gone once more. Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell!
Anger gave way to frustrated fury. He tore off faster. Catch her. Explain who I am. Put her on the ship. Damn it, just catch her! As he plunged deeper into the jungle, the air grew cloudy with mist. The leaves that slapped at his chest were slick.
A waterfall of mythic size roared into view, the driving water deafening on the black rocks below. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied her white clothing amid the green.
Amid the green, across the rushing river.
"Victoria," he bellowed. Amazingly, she slowed. "I'm here to rescue you."
She turned and marched into a clearing. Putting her hands to her mouth, she yelled back at him. The words were incomprehensible over the water. "Bloody hell!" She'd have had no better luck hearing him.
Seeing no way around it, he ran to the bank and dove in, swimming furiously across the sweeping currents. Choking water, scarcely able to breathe, he hauled his big frame onto the opposite shore and staggered forward. He spotted her ahead, but as he returned to an agonizing run, he knew there was no way to catch her, no way to gain. Then he saw it, a chance.
She was following the path--he could cut through the brush separating them and intercept her. He veered left, hurtling a lazy palm, gaining already.
Then, strangely, he saw his feet--above his head. Right before he felt the first punch of earth as he plummeted down a ravine.
Even as he dropped, helpless to stop himself, he knew she'd led him here on purpose. When he caught her...He tumbled one last time and landed on his back so hard, the impact knocked the air from his lungs.
Before he could focus his eyes, she stood over him, prodding his hip with a stick, sunlight through the canopy haloing her hair. She tilted her head. "Why were you trying to catch me?"
He fought for breath, fought to speak, but only managed wheezing sounds. He could see her blond brows knit and her lips part to demand "Why?" once more, but she heard his men crashing toward them. She looked back at him, running her eyes over him, thoroughly, slowly, until she leaned in closer to taunt, "Next time you try to run me down, Sailor, I'll drop you off a cliff."
She turned to stride away. He lunged over onto his front and sucked in a roar of air, breathing in the moisture from the plants enmeshing him. Coughing violently, he reached out a hand, wanting to stop her.
But she didn't look back. An iguana scuttled in her path, hissed at her, and deepened its stripes aggressively. She hissed back and disappeared into a black-green wall of brush.
Though she was loath to show it, Tori Dearbourne's heart hurt from fear as she plunged, arms raised above her, through foliage so thick it was like wading through water. She could hear the band of sailors, hear them hooting and laughing, slashing through the undergrowth behind her. She shuddered. Just like the last batch to land here.
No, at least they'd acted like friends, even saviors, before their heinous attack. Now, this towering giant, with his fierce eyes, hadn't even waited for the boat to reach shore before he charged like a lion after her, then pawed and ripped at her clothing.
Her fear beckoned worry as well. She just couldn't afford fear, and Lord knew she should be immune to it by now. Fate had tossed her about so much that that part of her simply should have withered away.
At least she hadn't appeared as terrified as she was; no, she'd just coldly made sure that if he attempted to cut her off, he'd take a spill for his troubles. She'd yelled a warning. For the tenth time, she told herself he'd chosen his own path.
All she'd planned for this morning was to check a trap in the shallows. A simple, routine chore. She'd been intent on reaching the waterline and rushing back to the canopy, avoiding the burning sun as one would run in from the rain, and hadn't exactly expected company after so many years....
A rebounding branch slapped at her thigh, startling her with its force, the pain cutting through her thoughts. She looked down to see blood streaming from the slash, staining what was left of the white lawn skirt she wore. Curse it! She might've mended it, but she didn't think the fabric could take another scrubbing before disintegrating.
Forcing herself to slow, she looked back in her wake. She knew better than to leave such a trail--splintered branches and now blood on a broad leaf. After a deep, calming breath, she returned to her task of picking through spiny palm fronds until she reached the trail to their camp. Ten minutes of sprinting up the hillside brought her to the arch of banana leaves serving as an entryway to their home.
"Men!" Tori gasped as she lurched into the clearing. "Men and a ship!" She bent over, sucking in air, then sank down, her thighs tight against her mud-speckled calves. No one answered. "Cammy?" she called. Nothing. Their hut, supported high in an ancient banyan, was silent. So help her, Cammy had better be in there. How many times had Tori ordered her to remain in the camp?
And Cammy would've been able to remember if she hadn't begun losing her wits at a spectacular rate.
Rushing to the ladder, she took two bamboo rungs at a time, then hurried to the door flap made of old sail. She yanked open the cloth to peer inside. Empty. Tori looked away and back as if she hadn't seen correctly. What if Cammy wandered all the way down to the beach this time?
There were two trails to their little shelf of land on the hillside, one hidden and one more hidden. She'd already run the length of the former, so she dashed over to the latter. Halfway down she found Cammy sitting back against a tree, breaths shallow, face waxy, her lips chapped and cracked.
Tori shook her shoulder, and after a few seconds Cammy opened her eyes, blinking against the light. "Where is your hat, Tori? Have you been in the sun?"
Relief soughed through Tori's body like a breeze. Cammy scolding was much better than Cammy sleeping like the dead.
"With your fair skin, it's just common sense..." She trailed off when she saw Tori's bloodied leg and wet, tattered skirt. "What has happened now?"
"Men and a ship. After a giant chased me and ripped my clothes, I lost track of the hat."
Cammy gave her a smile that didn't quite reach her distracted hazel eyes. "We can't be too careful about our complexions, now, can we?" she asked vaguely.
Vague. That was the best way to describe Cammy now. Before, she'd been a vibrant woman, as vibrant as her fiery red hair, with a crisp, lively intelligence. Now she seemed wilted, and her clarity of mind faded in and out with no discernible pattern.
Tori mentally counted to five. Sometimes, when Cammy got that unfocused look about her, Tori wanted to shake her. "Did you hear what I said? We're not alone."
Just when Tori decided she wouldn't understand what was happening, Cammy asked, "What were they like?"
"The one that came after me had the coldest, most piercing eyes I've ever seen. I had to put him in the ravine to stop him."
"The ravine?" she asked. "Oh, how I wish I could've seen that."
Tori frowned at the fresh memory and said almost to herself, "It really is true about the bigger you are, the harder you fall." She shook her head. "The rest of them were slashing at the foliage, getting ready to enter."
"Sailors combing the brush." Cammy shivered. "History's repeating itself...."
Both froze when the birds nearby fell silent. "We've got to get to the camp," Tori whispered.
"I'm going to slow you down. You go and I'll follow."
"Why, yes, that's just what I'll do," Tori said while wedging a shoulder under Cammy's arm and lifting her. After painfully slow moments, they clambered up the trail. As their home came into view, Tori surveyed it, trying to see it from a stranger's eyes. How odd it would be to have men in their camp, gazing at the shelter, walking
past the rock-ringed fire pit. For outsiders to see the workmanship, or workwomanship, more precisely, that was a testament of their dogged survival. Tori knew it was terrible of her, but she was almost eager for someone to marvel at their work. Her pride would be her downfall, Cammy would say.
Tori didn't believe in downfalls. It would have happened by now. Nature and Fate united to mete out challenge after challenge, and she and Cammy had beat the odds every time. They lived and lived, and would some more. No, there'd be no downfalls. Tori frowned at her thoughts. Cammy had told her she was proud, but Tori feared that she was arrogant as well.
But then, arrogant had always served her better than afraid.
"What direction did they set off in?" Cammy asked.
"It doesn't matter." Tori's smile was cold. "It will always be the wrong one."
Two
Grant limped to meet his crew at the canopy line near the beach, teeth gritted in pain, one arm across his chest, hand clutching his opposite shoulder. Water dripped from his hair and mixed with the sweat on his forehead to trickle into his eyes.
Blindsided. That's what he'd just been. Thoughts racketed in his head. Why would she run in the first place? More important, why the hell had he chased her like a dog after a carriage, and about as mindlessly? Why, if he had to do it over, would he run after her again?
"Grant, you look like you tussled with the wrong feral girl," Ian drawled. "Round one to Victoria. Or maybe not," he said, with a pointed glance at the soaked cloth still bunched in Grant's free hand. Grant felt his skin flush before he could grab his pack from Dooley and stuff it in.
"Congratulations, Cap'n, you've found a survivor!" Dooley cried, his face creased in a baggy smile. "I knew you would."