"Just keep moving," she told herself. "You must get to Portsmouth by morning." She resumed her
trek, walking so fast now that her breath began to come faster and faster. And then...
She whirled around again, her hand instinctively reaching for her gun. This time she'd definitely heard something. "I know you're out there," she said with a defiance she didn't quite feel. "Show your face or remain a coward."
There was a rustling noise, and then a man emerged from the trees. He was dressed completely in black, from his shirt to his boots-even his hair was black. He was tall, and his shoulders were broad, and he was quite the most dangerous-looking man Caroline had ever seen.
And he had a gun pointed straight at her heart.
Chapter 2
pug-na-cious (adjective). Disposed to fight; given to fighting; quarrelsome.
I can be pugnacious when backed into a corner.
-From the personal dictionary of
Caroline Trent
Blake Ravenscroft wasn't certain what he thought the woman would look like, but this certainly wasn't it. He'd thought she'd look soft, coy, manipulative. Instead, she stood tall, held her shoulders square, and stared him in the eye.
And she had the most intriguing mouth he'd ever seen. He was at a complete loss to describe it, except that her upper lip arched in the most delightful way and-
"Do you think you could possibly point that gun elsewhere?"
Blake snapped out of his reverie, appalled by his lack of concentration. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"