King of the Jungle
There were advantages in wearing the body of a Highland warrior. Knowing he would
carry no weapons in the twenty–first century, Calum was glad to have this hardened body
in peak physical form, especially after Beth cracked his forearm with that broomstick. He
outweighed her by at least seven stone and easily carried her out of the house over his
shoulder. She fought him with true spirit.
He loved every minute. And, most important, he didn’t lose corporealness and get
hauled back a dimension. Good. Technically, he had followed the rules and not put the
thought in Beth‘s head that she should accept his word as gospel like he’d wanted. He’d
only tried to rekindle some of the trust she must surely carry in her memory for him.
She’d obviously not looked deep enough into his eyes.
Calum had a problem. He didn’t know the crime for which Beth would be accused. He
knew she would be arrested, so his immediate intent was to keep her from the police.
‘Twas a two–fold plan that would also keep them together.
It wasn’t difficult to pick up on her emotions now. He sensed fear, mixed with
excitement though, not terror, and the fear wasn’t entirely directed at him. Their struggle
in the kitchen had only served to arouse him—that he felt sharply with no hope of a
satisfying release—but he had not been the only one. The tousle had aroused her as well,
so like the Bethia he knew.
“So, Tarzan.” Her chest rose and fell in quick successions. “Are you going to pound
your chest now, affirm your dominance?”
He had her pinned against the wee car in the garage, her back against the front door,
his hands pressed to the window on either side of her.
He left the humour out of his smile. She knew him better than she thought. “I’m
giving you a choice now. You can either drive the car to a nice inn, when I say it’s far
enough away, or you can ride in the trunk.”
The storm clouds in her eyes darkened. She attempted to back away from him, but
there was nowhere to go. Leaning in closer, he drew a breath of her, fully intending to
intimidate her with his size. She needed to relinquish her irrational need to resist him.
“I am definitely enrolling in karate classes.” His Bethia craned her neck as far from
him as she could manage. “Stop breathing on me. Why do you think I‘ll be in trouble if I
go to the police?”
“It‘s complicated. You’ll have to trust me.” He drew back slightly and felt her sigh.
“I don‘t know you well enough to trust you.”
“You‘ll have to use your intuition then, lass. I‘ll tell you how I know you’re in danger
when the time is right. This isn’t the time.”
She exhaled a perturbed breath that breezed over his neck. “I choose which hotel.”
“Don‘t think it‘s going to be isolated . . . or cheap.”