The Rebel King

my father.

Nikolas was smiling without a shred of humor. 'Trust me, Vlad,' he drawled, 'the lady doesn't need one. Make a move on her, and you'll find that out soon enough. I'd do as she says, if I were you. And, by the way…' His voice tookon an edge of steel.

'In the unlikely event she should need an extra set of hands, she's got me. It's been awhile, but I've found that my commando training does come back to me when I need it. I don't think you'd get far against the two-' That was as far as he got.

Rhia had quietly slipped her handcuffs from the back of her belt where they'd been hidden by her leather jacket. She was bringing them into view when Vladimir, shrieking curses, hurled the teapot full of scalding hot tea at her face and bolted from the room.

Chapter 13

Rhia's scream cut through Nikolas like a bolt of lightning, deafening him to everything else. As he dove for her he didn't hear his own bellow of rage or the crash of his chair hitting the floor or the tinkle of shattering crockery. Silas/Vladimir vanished from his mind like a puff of smoke.

Then his hands were touching her…fearfully…feathering over her cheeks, her hair, the sleeve of her leather jacket, slick now with already-cooling tea. Shaken to the core, he whispered. 'God… Rhee-are you…'

'Dammit. …dammit!' Her eyes blazed at him with rage and pain as she tried to shake him off. 'Go! He's getting away- I'm fine, dammit-leave me-just go-don't let him-'

'Let him go.' His voice was jerky, uneven. 'It's an island-how far can he get? And you're not fine, you were drenched with boiling water. How bad…' He had to stop; he felt light-headed, all of a sudden. He drew an unsteady hand across his brow, wiping away ice-cold sweat. 'My God…I'm sorry… I knew he'd never hurt me. it just never occurred to me he'd go for you instead…' Because you are a part of me now.

'I really am fine,' she said in a tight voice that was itself proof positive of the lie. She was bent forward at the waist, breathing shallowly. one hand braced on the table, the other holding her black knit pullover away from her body. 'Did he…does he have the gun?'

Nikolas nodded absently; he had himself in hand again, his attention focused now on getting Rhia's leather jacket off her without causing more damage. 'He went out the front, so I'm guessing he's taken it with him. Can you let me have your hand for a minute, love? That's got it…now the other one… there's a good girl.' He eased the jacket away from her and tossed it onto a chair, then took her by the arms and turned her gently to face him. 'Which is another reason why I don't want you haring madly after him, my darling. He's got the gun, we haven't. There's only one way out of here, and we'll be on his trail soon enough. First, I want to see-'

They both jerked as a shot rang out-then quickly, before either of them could react, two more.

'What-'

He felt her muscles tense under his hands and tightened his grip. 'No, you don't-you stay right here. Don't…move.' He set her firmly aside and in two strides was at the window, flattened against the wall beside it. He leaned over for a quick peek, then sucked in a breath. 'Bloody hell.'

'What?'

'He's shot out our tires. I heard three shots, so it's nice of him to leave us one. I suppose.' He said it with a jauntiness he was far from feeling. He knew better than anyone just how isolated they were.

And he didn't know, yet, how badly Rhia was injured.

'Guess that means he's got a car,' she said, slurring her words a little.

They both froze once more as an engine roared to life somewhere nearby. Tires squealed and spat gravel. Nikolas watched through the grimy window as a nondescript gray hatchback of unknown vintage raced away on the windswept highway, trailing a plume of smoky exhaust.

'Which is another thing he has and we haven't,' he said lightly as he returned to Rhia. hoping his face wouldn't give away the helplessness and frustration he felt…the crushing sense of self-blame. The anger-at Vladimir, of course, but mostly at himself.

He was shaking inside as he took her face between his hands…frowned tenderly while he studied it feature by feature for damage. His knees went weak and he let out a breath of profound thanksgiving when he found it apparently untouched. Her skin was definitely paler, though, than her usual vivid coloring, and when he kissed her forehead, it felt clammy and cool to his lips.

'Sweetheart,' he said huskily. 'I am so sorry. This is my fault-I underestimated him. You were right. I was still thinking of him as my father-the man who raised me…'

Her head jerked quickly from side to side-she was beginning to shake all over. now. Through chattering teeth, she mumbled, 'No, no-I was distracted, too. I let him get to me. Wasn't on my guard. He…just reminded me so much of someone…'

Startled enough by that to tear his eyes away from his examination of her neck and throat, he said. 'Really? Who?'

'Dammit, Nik.' She hauled in a breath and her eyes flared hot. bringing some of the color back into her cheeks. 'Except for being totally insane, I swear the sonofabitch is just like my father. Cold, arrogant, supercilious…so bloody insufferably certain every thought in his head is gospel, his every opinion a fact. Stop it, damn you. I'm not joking!'

He was shaking with silent laughter. 'Rhee, my love. I'm not laughing about your father-believe me. I'm not. Just… hearing a Louisiana Cajun swear like a Brit…got to me. Sorry.' He touched his lips to hers and said tenderly. 'I want to hold you so badly, but I'm afraid I'll hurt you. Will you let me have a look at the damage?'

She closed her eyes and gave a shivery laugh as she swayed slightly toward him. 'I'm almost afraid to look. It hurts like such bloody hell.'

'I hate to say it, but…that's probably a good thing. Third-degree burns don't hurt-the nerves are destroyed.' And she would never know, from the blithe way he said the words, that he was half-dizzy with nausea at the thought of the destruction of even the smallest part of her. 'So, tell me, dear heart, at the risk of cliche… where does it hurt?'

'I got my arm up in time to keep the teapot from hitting me in the head…deflected most of the water away from my face, at least.' Her teeth were chattering again, and her nipples stood out in sharp relief under the wet- now cold-pullover. Naturally, his ignorant body, oblivious to anything but that familiar signal, insisted on reacting to it in the usual way as he slipped his hands under the bottom edge of her shirt. 'I think…the jacket may have protected me, too.' Rhia said. 'Some went down inside…down my front. That's where it hurts the most.'

Her breath hissed sharply between her teeth as he pulled the clinging fabric away from her skin. He had to hold his own breath to keep it from doing the same when he drew the shirt slowly and carefully up and over her head and saw the splash of angry red welts across her chest and the tops of her breasts, down the valley between and on to her stomach. He looked away, swearing viciously.

'This, too.' she said in a choked voice, tugging at the front of her bra where it met scalded skin.

With unsteady fingers he unsnapped the front clasp and eased the two halves apart, then slipped the straps over her shoulders, all the while keeping his gaze focused on the little silver replica of a saxophone hanging from its thin chain nestied between her breasts, lifting slightly with each muted breath. Rage stung his eyes and the saxophone seemed to shimmer as if in agreement.

'Anywhere else?' His voice sounded cold; he had to make it so in order to maintain even a small measure of control.

She shook her head. 'Just a little bit in my scalp…not too bad, Nik…' He lifted his eyes to her face, and they felt like deadweights. She was gazing at him. eyes soft…the color of whiskey. Her fingers touched his face.

A tremor shook him. He said harshly. 'I can't remember- what the devil is first aid for burns?'

Her lips trembled into a smile. 'Cold water…antibiotics…something to make it stop hurting…' She leaned in and touched his mouth with her smile. Her lips were cold…he felt them warm and soften against his. and juices pooled