One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West

should be out in this weather. Yet she was, and she wasn’t alone.

      She risked a quick glance back, hoping to see who was there, catching a glimpse of a man riding the crest of a wave.

      André? No!

      How had he found her so quickly?

      It didn’t matter. He was here. She had absolute trust he’d save her, if only to upbraid her for setting to sea in a storm.

      As if mocking her attempt to stay alive, a gust of wind broadsided the kayak. The paddle was ripped from her hands. The wind stole her scream. In a blink, the kayak flipped over.

      Sea water was shoved into her face and enveloped her, dragging her down. Down. Down.

      Dark.

      Suffocating.

      And her nightmare came back to life.

      André’s heart stopped, only to start with a vengeance and race with the fury of the wind. He’d kill her for doing something so foolish, for putting herself and his baby in harm’s way.

      But first he had to rescue her and see them safely onto Noir Creux. First he had to play the part of a fool again.

      He cut the Jet Ski’s engine and dove into the spot where he’d seen her go down. He ticked off minutes in his mind, knowing time was precious. Crucial.

      He died by centimeters as he searched the murky depths churned by the storm and didn’t find her. He stretched out, swimming fast and hard, pushing through the black water until his lungs burned.

      Finally his fingers grazed skeins of silk. He wound a hand in the thick mass of hair and reeled her to him, then anchored her close and pushed them both to the surface at the same time.

      Her fingers digging into his arms gave him hope, energy, profound relief. His choking fear died, only to give birth to an anger that made the storm pale in comparison.

      They broke the surface together, pounded by rain and battered by waves, limbs entwined, gazes locked on one another. He read the fear and need and relief in her eyes. He recoiled from the odd tangled emotions that sank into him.

      He didn’t want to feel more for her than lust. All he wanted was to capture her desire. But she took more. More than he had to offer. More than he wanted to give.

      After his jaunt to Martinique to meet with his solicitor he knew why. For her impassioned vow that the Chateau was her home was a lie. She was an opportunist, flitting from one benefactor to another.

      But not with him. He had the upper hand now, and he didn’t intend to relinquish it.

      It was just as well she didn’t understand the turmoil eddying within him. She was an enchantress who wouldn’t hesitate to use his weakness toward her to further her goal.

      He wrapped an arm around her tiny waist and struck out for shore, aware of the pitfalls he’d memorized years before. The press of her body against his was sheer torture.

      Before his private hell had enveloped his life she’d been the type of woman he’d desired. Not just as a lover. No, as his mate.

      But that had been an eternity ago.

      He wasn’t the same man he’d been back then.

      He’d lost patience with the gentler side that demanded trust, fidelity. Love.

      He couldn’t give any woman those things. All he could offer was his protection. Money. Unbridled passion.

      André certainly would never offer even that to his enemy, no matter how much he desired her. No matter that she likely carried his heir.

      After an eternity, André felt the black grit of volcanic sand beneath him. He pushed from the surf, dragging her with him, her fingernails digging into his arm attesting to her fear.

      She was his for the taking. One word, one touch, and she’d tumble into his arms.

      That would be too easy, stripping him of any satisfaction of conquering her. Of catching her at her own duplicity.

      The rain battered them now, as merciless as his feelings toward her. He trudged through the churning surf between towering rocks slicked by rain, her by his side, her essence coursing through his blood, luring him in.

      A black hole loomed ahead and he ran into it, pulling her in beside him. Only then did he draw a decent breath. Only then did he look at her. Only then did he realize his heart was close to beating out of his chest.

      Fury. That was why. Any other reason was unacceptable.

      The deep shadows in the cave obscured her features. So he focused on each indrawn breath, each stutter of sound, each ripple of sensation that sped from her hand into his.

      “Do you feel all right?” he dared to ask.

      “Yes. Fine.” He heard her swallow, felt another tremor go from her, and he cursed the span of concern he felt for her. “We are all right.”

      She and the baby were alive. He was alive. And they were marooned together until the storm abated.

      He detested the fact she’d ensnared him in such seclusion. Even though he knew what he knew about her, she made him feel things that made no sense to him, that he’d never experienced before. That scared the hell out of him.

      Yet he ached to make her his right now. Again. Alone in this primitive cave while the storm raged outside and his own tempest battered within him, when nothing and nobody could interrupt them this time.

      He wanted to pound into her with the same intensity as the storm pummeled the islet. He wanted to break down her defenses and for once hear her admit the truth.

      Mon Dieu! She’d drive him mad with her stubborn nature and siren’s body. She was a contradiction that defied reason.

      How could she be terrified of small boats, yet risk her life in one today? To escape him. That was why.

      She’d have done anything to flee the trap she’d ended up in, for a fortune awaited her. Yet how could she have known?

      Damn her! “Have you no regard for my child?”

      He felt her stiffen, sensed her muscles bunching as if to pull away from him. “I—I only meant to find a telephone here, then return to Petit St. Marc.”

      No doubt she’d been desperate to contact Peter and confirm if the deal had gone through. If so, she’d have found a way to disappear. Her error in seeking help here, coupled with the storm, had thwarted that plan. It had dumped her right back into André’s lap. Just where he wanted her.

      “You would’ve waited an eternity. Noir Creux is uninhabited. A nature sanctuary under the protection of France.” He hauled her against his side, stopping her retreat. “And me.”

      “You watch over a nature sanctuary?” Incredulity rang in her voice.

      “I watch over many precious things.” Like her?

      The thought came unbidden and was met with immediate resistance. She was more dangerous than a hurricane. Her carnal sting more lethal than a scorpion’s.

      “Noir Creux is unique,” he said at last, when his pulse had ceased hammering in his veins, when his need to take her had abated. “An extinct volcanic dome is attached to a coral reef. Both are ancient.”

      “Any buried treasure?”

      “Oui,” he said, attuned to her every word, to every subtle shift of her body, to the wild scent of the storm mingling with warm woman. “But to attempt to remove it would destroy something far more valuable than doubloons.”

      “You surprise me, André.” The comment was soft. Intimate, yet tinged with awe.

      His fingers curled into fists. He didn’t want her admiration, her praise. He didn’t want to think that she’d be more than willing to tumble into his arms now that he’d proved he cared