My Hard-hearted Hero

Chapter 7 √

Ariana had wondered what Zach would do with her when he had to leave the estate or Fort Trent, as she thought of it where they'd been sequestered together for more than a week now. Well, she need wonder no more.

"Where do you want to wait for me, Yana?"

He towered over her in the big country kitchen. She felt insignificant and downright asinine in his mother's frilly little apron and over mitts. Two French baguettes had just come out of the oven_ long, thin, crusty loaves to sop up the gravy of their beef stew tonight. Thank goodness she loved to cook. There wasn't much else to do at Fort Trent besides cook and read and scheme and pray.

For rescue. She hadn't given up the hope that her message in the rocket would be found. It must have landed in a heavily wooded area. Maybe it had gotten caught on a high limb and would drop before long. Or get washed up on a lakeshore. She thought of little else.

Her eyes went to the handcuffs dangling from Zach's fingers, and her stomach turned over. She'd foolishly allowed herself to believe she'd seen the last of them, after he'd relented the night she was so sick. After all, hadn't she been convincing as the obedient, enlightened deprogrammee? And hadn't they gotten along passably well? An outsider peeking into their "home life" would actually believe the domestic tranquility was genuine. Zach even said nice things about her cooking!

The two of them had gotten into the habit of jogging together each morning before breakfast. That was the most serene part of the day, when they did their stretching exercises out by the back porch and ran side by side around the estate near the tree line. Serene because it was a strictly physical activity they shared without conversation, without her having to pretend she was something she wasn't. In those charmed moments she could almost believe she was a guest, not a prisoner.

And all the while she bided her time, waiting for all hell to break loose when her rescuers arrived.

She raised her eyes from the cuffs to his face, willing her expression to remain neutral, though she could feel a cold sweat popping out. She hoped she didn't look as pale as she felt. She hated those damn things, the sensation of helpless immobility.

Zach's gaze slid to the window. "I have to reprovision. We're low on rations."

"So I've noticed."

He had milk, eggs, bread and other staples delivered to the front gate twice a week, but they were low on a lot of other things. She pasted on what she hoped would pass for a benign expression. This wasn't the time to blow her image.

She didn't have bothered, he didn't even look at her. Everything else in the kitchen seemed to hold more interest.

"Yeah. Well." He indicated the cuffs.

"Where?"

"Um....how long will you be gone?"

He dragged a hand through his thick, dark hair. "A couple of hours. A little less if the store's not too crowded."

Two hours! She nearly groaned. "How about the sunroom, then?"

He shrugged. "Fine with me."

She shucked the apron and mitts and followed him to the sunroom, where late morning sunshine streamed through the huge, plant bedecked bay window with its eastern exposure. He steered her to the brass daybed, made up as a sofa with bolsters and a slipcover. Compliantly she sat at the end and offered her left wrist.

As he bent over her to fasten the cuffs, Ariana tried to ignore his warmth and the distinctive masculine scent that drifted over her. His face hovered inches from hers, his silver eyes studiously glued to his task. This man had seen her stark naked. That realization only made her feel more helpless and vulnerable.