_Scandalous by Candace Camp

Author:Candace Camp [Camp, Candace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1996-10-28T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

PRISCILLA AND JOHN FROZE. There was another groan. They remembered then the man who had been standing guard outside the cabin, the man John had knocked down and left as he rushed to open the door of the shack.

John let go of Priscilla and stepped back, aghast at his own loss of control. He had been so caught up in his passion, so blind to the outside world, that the guard he had knocked unconscious earlier could easily have awakened and come in and struck both of them down. It was sheer luck that the man had started groaning as he returned to consciousness.

He ran outside to where the man lay. Behind him, Priscilla hurriedly adjusted her clothing, a blush spreading over her cheeks. She had never in her life experienced anything like the past few moments, not even when John had kissed and caressed her before. She had been flooded with desire then, but that had been nothing like the all-consuming passion, the greed to couple with him, that had overtaken her tonight. It had been as if nothing in the world existed except the two of them. Her limbs were still weak and trembling, her skin was tingling, and her blood was pulsing through her like mad.

A little shakily, she followed John out of the hut. She glanced around and found his darker form in the dim landscape. He was kneeling beside the tall guard, and he hauled the man up into a sitting position as Priscilla came up behind him. Blood trickled from the villain’s nose and smeared his chin. His eyes rolled vaguely. He moved his arms and legs a little, as though not quite sure where they were or what they were supposed to do.

“I am glad to see that you’re coming to,” John said conversationally. “I was wanting to have a bit of chat with you.”

The other man let out a snuffle that conveyed surprise.

“You thought I wouldn’t? Oh, no, I am most eager to talk to you. Or, I should say, to hear what you have to say.”

“Won’t tell you nothin’,” the man mumbled.

“You think not?” There was a dangerous quality to John’s voice that Priscilla found rather chilling. “Somehow I think you will change your mind. Priscilla, dear, does that dress of yours have a sash?”

Priscilla blinked. “Uh, yes.”

“Good. Then may I have it?”

Priscilla began to untie the sash, asking uneasily, “What are you planning to do?”

“Just tie up our friend here,” John replied, whipping the man over onto his face and pulling his arms behind him before he could even begin to struggle. “Thank you.”

He took the sash from Priscilla’s hand and proceeded to tie the man up efficiently, knotting the fabric around his hands, then pulling the long strand of cloth down to tie it around the man’s ankles, so that he lay awkwardly, his hands drawn back and down, and his feet up behind his back.

“’Ey!” the man protested.

“What? Are you uncomfortable? How unfortunate. Of course, I could

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