Africa, 1896

Max Harkness was too shiny in Lilly’s opinion. Everything about his curly blond hair, his excessively cheerful amber eyes…even his boots made him stand out and it irked her. Rather than charming her, she was curiously unaffected by his good looks, and perhaps that had stung his pride.

Charlie, the expedition leader, had introduced Max as the best shot of all the available hunting guides in town. If Max had expected Lilly to be impressed, then he’d been terribly wrong as she had immediately decided him to be a coarse wild man. Not to be outdone where mutual dislike was concerned, Max had dismissed her as being weak, wilted, and female. Therefore, it was largely apparent to everyone that they’d be like oil and water for the rest of the journey.

Bloody hell…Max thought to himself. He could have done without another trip, but Charlie had begged his help, and since they were old friends perhaps it couldn’t have been avoided. The main issue was safety. The lions had become very active these past few weeks and extra men were needed to patrol around camp after nightfall. Therefore, he’d delayed his return to New York where his personal matters were most likely piling up.

As an extra on this trip, Max was determined to do the bare minimum to get in and out the territory this time. Charlie knew better than to make Max play host, and did his best to entertain the guests himself. He tried to be considerate of Miss Linney, but her brother Henry was actually the real client for this expedition. Demanding and ridiculously wealthy, Henry was only there to bag big game, and he had no patience for Lilly despite insisting that she accompany him. As long as Max didn’t offend him, Charlie didn’t care what he did.

Anyone with eyes could see that Miss Linney was struggling, but Max continued to ignore her. With what dignity she had left,  she gathered her voluminous skirts and wrestled them into her fist so that she could pick her way through the tricky terrain. A real gentleman might have stopped to inquire into her state of being, but Max didn’t have a gallant bone in his body.

Let her stew, he thought to himself. Despite that, he still grudgingly applauded her persistence. She could have insisted on staying in town with servants waiting on her, but here she was with her brother.

The woman has balls, but this really is no place for her.

Only concerned about keeping the hunting expedition under control, he was in no mood to wait. He kept his normal pace, moving as fast as the porters and the other guests could accommodate.

***

It was late in the afternoon when Charlie finally took pity on Lilly and gave the order to make camp contrary to Henry’s wishes…and he took the opportunity to harass her about it as soon as his tent was set up.

“It’s your mother’s blood, you know,” Henry drawled, eyeing the trousers she’d changed into. He continued on, watching her look at the ground, the colour rising in her white face. “If she hadn’t been such a lascivious tart, my good father never would have married her in the first place or caught the plague in that blasted swamp and died, leaving me with you.”

He sipped his wine placidly, watching her as her breathing came in more shallowly.  He liked her best this way…like a bird fluttering against the bars of a cage.

Lilly was desperately trying to hold in her anger, and more importantly, her fear. She closed her eyes and forced herself to open them slowly, focusing on the bare scrub just outside the tent flap. If she fixed her gaze on a point just beyond his left shoulder it would still give the appearance that she was looking at him. 

The sun was low in the sky now, dusky, and red, a molten orb being clawed back to earth, sinking into the baked African soil. She turned her attention away from the fiery sunset to the man standing close enough that she could smell his linen. Even stinking of stale sweat and cologne, Henry Linney still managed to look debonair.

“Henry, how am I supposed to keep up with you in this blasted place wearing full skirts? Surely, you must see that this is a practical solution and you will not have to cater to my pace,” she said evenly, congratulating herself on the fact that her voice sounded calm, perhaps even blasé. However, her tongue was like lead in her mouth and she reached for her glass to steady herself.

“It’s indecent, my dear sister,” he responded, eyeing her legs, raking his gaze slowly up her body. His smile curled up in a leer, reminding her that they shared no blood, and this was not the first time she’d seen that veiled look in his eye. He clearly coveted her and she was doing her utmost not to show her fear. 

Henry stood up, trapping her between himself and the table.

She crossed her boots, and leaned away. She tried for nonchalance, letting her hand close reflexively and triumphantly on the solid rod of a riding whip that he’d been using as a pointer, still there from his examination of a map now lying half furled and forgotten. 

She gripped the handle behind her back, out of his sight. 

“You should have let me stay in town,” she whispered.

“And let you escape? Not a chance. I’d rather you stay by my side even if we have to cater to you.” His tone was disapproving: “But, I won’t have you displaying yourself in this disgraceful way. Do you want to advertise yourself to the entire assemblage? If I was actually trying to find you a husband, I wouldn't be able to, since you insist on behaving like a hussy. As I said: It’s your mother’s blood. ”

He finally sat back down, reaching for more wine.

“Don’t be disgusting…” she responded.

“Disgusting? Am I really?” he snorted.

Lilly’s eyes stung as she heartily wished Henry to the bottom of the Nile. She also wished that he wasn’t so skillful at cutting her down – a legacy of a British upbringing. How well he does it, she thought. Under the guise of protecting my reputation, he insults me, and tears me down at every turn, all with that cold politeness that comes from superior breeding. It’s all a trick to bend my will…but…

“Regardless of everything, I still want you as my wife…have you thought about my offer?” he asked with a casualness that rankled.

Infuriated, Lilly’s ears rang as she opened her mouth to spit out her retort.

***

Max moved towards the tent as the voices grew louder. He had been coming to see about provisioning and had walked in this direction in search of Charlie, but his attention was drawn by the female voice and the increasingly defensive nature of its rise and fall. It wasn’t his normal habit to become involved with the various travelers who decided to sign on with their expeditions, but the tone of the male voice had begun to hint at something deeply malevolent, like the sound of a predatory animal. Perhaps instinctively, it moved him to act without thinking about the consequences.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the American said coolly, striding through the open flap of the tent. He swept in without ceremony, but his presence took over the room, like a large cat was somehow inhabiting the space where the man now stood.

Lilly alternately flushed red and then white as she felt an icy cold settle over her. She hastily let go of the whip and carefully set down her wine. Her step brother was known to have a terrible temper and she’d already seen him strike the porters more than once. What in the world was the American doing here?

Henry had stood up at Max’s abrupt entrance and nearly knocked the chair over. Faced with this unwelcome presence, his eyes narrowed, face whitening with suppressed rage. He looked tense as a snake coiled before a strike.

“Indeed, you are interrupting, sir! This is a private conversation between myself and my sister. Please leave at once,” he insisted.

Max folded his arms over his chest, tone dripping with irony:

“Well, it’s hardly a private conversation seeing as half the camp can hear you. It would do you both well to keep your voices down. Sound carries over the river here and this country tends to attract vagabonds and strays who wouldn’t hesitate to rob us or worse than that. I’m of course thinking of Miss Linney. We wouldn’t want her frightened needlessly by any sort of incident, now would we?”

The two men were staring each other down and Lilly nervously noted something unspoken pass between them.

“Yes, of course,” her brother said stiffly, straightening, and then more calmly. “Of course, you’re right, Harkness. Lilly’s safety is of utmost importance,” he agreed, a serene mask settling over his features.

“And if I may...? Miss Linney is quite correct. The trousers are far more sensible for this terrain. If you need any further assistance with any of your baggage, you can let Arnold know. He’s very good help. Get settled. It will be a long day tomorrow if we’re to find that pride of lions. Good evening.”

And then he was gone before they could say another word to him.

Something ugly flicked across her brother’s face, but Lilly could see that he had himself under control again. She cautiously picked up her wine, trying to settle her stomach, but she had misjudged him. Before she was able to react, he was up and had swept the glass out of her hand. Ignoring her cry, he slapped her across the cheek, pulling her roughly against him, moulding his thighs to hers. 

She struggled and tried to scratch him, but he held her wrists, twisting her hair painfully with the other hand. He was so angry that he mashed his lips into hers, running his tongue over her mouth, and then bit down.

Tears ran down her face. She didn’t dare bite him back – she had tried before, and that had been a mistake. Instead she let herself go limp. He hated that. He enjoyed himself so much more when she fought him. Amused by her reaction, he released her mouth with a derisive snort.

Lilly cowered as his green eyes glowed down at her.  She silently raged at her own helplessness as he bent her backwards against the table.

“My dear Lilly, I could have you right here, you know,” he whispered, rubbing his face against her cheek, his breathing ragged and heavy as she tried to twist away from him. Her face burned where his stubble scraped her. “No one would need to know, and frankly, no one would believe you if you told them,” he said. 

He released her hair, cupping the back of her head and kissed her lingeringly along her cheek and throat. His breath came in sharp as he inhaled the sweet scent of her skin. Then he let her go, and her cool, collected step-brother stood there once again, watching her, his eyes lit with triumph.

Lilly felt dizzy and sick. Tears threatened to spill over her face again, but she bit her lip tight. She glared at him, her eyes filled with hatred, but her heart only made a dull thud in her chest. She shuddered with the effort not to sob out loud, knowing that it would only delight him further.

“One day, you will regret that, Henry,” she said softly, turning her face. Righting herself, she wiped her hand across her mouth and stared at the ground. Somewhere out in the night, birds chittered and chirped, breaking across her senses.

“No, my dear Lilly. No, I don’t think I will ever regret you one bit,” he said, throwing back the last of his wine. His laughter was biting. “It’s too bad you need to stay a virgin for our wedding night,” he sighed. “You’d like it, Lilly, I know you would…and I’d like it too. So, I’ll want your answer soon.”

She shivered, but before he could say anything else obscene to her, she gathered her courage and fled. He let her go, like a cat playing with a mouse, his laughter lingering after her as she pelted blindly into the night.