Harlequin Presents: August 2022 Box Set 2 of 2 by Louise Fuller

Author:Louise Fuller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

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Clara’s stomach dipped and then she was weightless, flying, warm air rushing through and around her. She kept her fear locked tightly away, as tightly as she held to her old school friend’s macho brother, and kept her stare firmly fixed on his face, feeding off the supreme confidence written on it that said they would be lifted to safety. She would not allow herself to think that, should his knot-making skills be sub-par, they were both liable to plummet to certain death... Oh, dear. She’d just thought it.

Think of poor Bob nestled between her breasts, she told herself. Judging by the way his sharp little claws were digging into her skin, the poor mite was terrified.

A jolt on the rope made her stomach dip again, and she squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her forehead into Marcelo’s hard chest and prayed their pressed bodies was barrier enough to stop Bob scrambling out and, conversely, not too smothering that they suffocated him.

Before guilt that she’d done the wrong thing in bringing the puppy with them could set too deeply, hands grabbed hold of her and she was being roughly manhandled onto the helicopter.

Relief surged through her like a frothing tsunami, and she would have rolled onto her back from the sheer force of it if she wasn’t bound to the hunk who’d taken it on himself to rescue her.

They’d made it! She was free.

The noise of the rotors wasn’t loud enough to drown the thrash of her heartbeats ringing in her ears. She tried to catch a breath before opening her eyes. She had to blink a number of times before her vision cleared and she could attempt to get her bearings. The helicopter itself was huge and looked more military than civilian. Two men dressed in military fatigues were knelt beside them working to untie the knots binding her to Marcelo.

It came to Clara in a rush that she was trussed up on the floor of a helicopter with the Prince of Ceres and with a puppy scrambling frantically for release from the confines of her cleavage. The relief and absurdity of it all became too much and, unable to control it, Clara burst into peals of laughter. She was still laughing when the rope slackened, still laughing when she managed to sit up, still laughing as she carefully pulled Bob out of her cleavage. But then Bob licked her cheek and her laughter merged into tears that she couldn’t control either. Through the sobbing laughter was an awareness that three macho men were warily studying her, no doubt alarmed at this display of female hysteria, a notion that only made her laugh and cry harder.

Her eighteen days on Monte Cleure, sixteen spent as a captive, had put her through the emotional wringer but she’d refused to succumb to distress, focusing everything on the anger she’d need as fuel to escape even when escape had seemed hopeless, and she sobbed and laughed until everything she’d suppressed was purged.

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