Enticed by Ecstasy (Wicked Treasures) Read online

  Enticed by Ecstasy

  By

  Donna Grant

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Enticed by Ecstasy

  ISBN 13: 978-0985371340

  ISBN 10: 098537134X

  Copyright© 2012 Donna Grant

  Cover Artist: Rasit Ra

  Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  www.DonnaGrant.com

  Chapter One

  Africa, 1899

  Abigail Huntington took a deep breath of humid air as she stepped off the ship that had been her home for months. She was finally in Africa.

  The trip had been much more difficult than she had ever imagined. It wasn’t until she departed England that she learned she abhorred sea travel, or rather her stomach did. Most of the trip had been spent in her bed trying to keep down what little food she could eat.

  But all that was past her now. Her gaze scanned the bustling port of Cape Town. She'd read so many stories of Africa in the papers and heard from travelers throughout society. She had seen drawings, but nothing prepared her for the raw, untamed beauty before her.

  It wasn’t the city or port she looked at, but the land far in the distance. It beckoned her with a siren’s voice she had been unable to ignore.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the unmistakable roar of a lion in the distance.

  “The lion is a ways off, miss,” said a young lad with a heavy accent as he carted her luggage off from the ship.

  Abby turned to look at the dark-skinned lad and grinned. He seemed so earnest, his voice filled with as much authority as a boy could muster. “Will you protect me?”

  The lad’s face cracked into a wide smile. “Not me, miss. You need a hunter if you be venturing past the port.”

  Abby opened her reticule and pulled out two coins that she handed to the lad with a wink. “Thank you for the advice.”

  “Is the lad bothering you?”

  The smile slipped at the sound of the husky, velvety smooth voice behind her. She slowly turned around, and promptly forgot all about the lion.

  For if ever there was a predator in the form of a man, he was standing before her. She had to tilt her head back to look at him, he was so tall. Instantly, she was mesmerized by his coffee-brown eyes. They held sadness too great to be hidden, and it tugged at her heart.

  A tan-colored hat hid most of his black hair, while the ends brushed his shoulders in soft waves. Brows of the same black slashed over his eyes, while lashes, thick and long, framed his eyes.

  There was a slight crook to his nose alluding to a possible break. His face was all hard lines and angles while his wide lips were the only thing she would call soft about him. His top lip was slightly fuller than the bottom.

  Her gaze traveled down to his wide shoulders and thick chest covered in a faded blue shirt. His chest tapered to trim hips encased in brown breeches that tucked into tall black boots, scuffed and dusty.

  All in all he was the epitome of rugged. He looked as if he had seen all of Africa and found her lacking. Abby lifted her eyes to him to find him silently watching her.

  She doubted there was much that could affect the man before her. In fact, she’d wager all her money that he was a man who sought adventure. It could be the only reason he was in such a wild land.

  She drew in a breath and squared her shoulders. She mustn’t forget why she was in Africa or the plan she spent years formulating.

  Abby raised her chin and gave a steely stare to the hulk of a man before her. If there was one thing she had learned from her father, it was how to bend people to her. “You’re Mr. Rye, I presume.”

  A part of her hoped he was Channing Rye since he seemed capable enough. But another part of her – a part that couldn’t stop looking at all the muscles clearly outlined by his shirt – hoped he wasn’t Channing. Because if he was, she was going to have a hard time completing her mission with such a gorgeous man beside her.

  Channing Rye inclined his head, a lock of black hair falling over his forehead when he removed his hat. “At your service, Miss Huntington.”

  “I thought you’d be older,” she said, more to herself than him.

  “And I thought you’d be...”

  He trailed off and she narrowed her eyes. “You thought I’d be what?”

  “Well, let’s just say I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Abby didn’t want to let it go, but he didn’t give her a choice as he continued talking.

  “I’ve secured a room for you at the inn. We’ll leave at first light tomorrow. Did you procure everything I requested?”

  “I did.” The list he had sent had been long and taken quite a bit of coin to gather, but she had wanted to make sure her trip looked legitimate.

  “Good.”

  When Rye didn’t move, Abby sighed and clasped her hands in front of her. “Do you think me fool enough to give you payment now? In front of all our watchers?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said quickly with a crooked smile that made her heart race. “This way, then.”

  She started after him as two dark-skinned boys no older than six gathered her bags and trailed after them. Rye moved with a grace that bespoke years of hunting. His shoulders were wide and with his sleeves rolled up, she could see the muscles beneath his tanned skin.

  Perhaps trekking through the wilds of Africa would be more fun than she had first imagined. Her gaze lowered to Rye’s trim hips and nicely rounded bum.

  * * * *

  It wasn’t until Abby was alone in her room after paying Channing Rye half of his demanded sum that she sank into the chair and buried her head in her hands. After a moment of self-pity, she raised her head and took a steadying breath.

  “I can do this,” she whispered. “I will do this.”

  She had planned for too long not to go through with everything now. Her hand shook as she lifted it to push a lock of hair away from her face.

  Had her father already discovered her gone? Did he even care? In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t notice her absence until the ransom note was delivered.

  Abby licked her lips and stood to look out her window. A vast expanse of land lay ahead of her, full of danger and excitement. For far too long she had hid in her parents’ home, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. It was time she lived her own life.

  And the inheritance her mother left her would see to that.

  It had been two years since her beloved mother’s death, and each day had been a trial. Her mother had been the kindest, gentlest, and most loving person Abby had ever known. It wasn’t until she was eight and taking a stroll in the park that she realized father’s were supposed to spend time with their families, not ignore them as if they didn’t exist.

  Abby whirled away from the window. She could hardly wait for tomorrow and the beginning of the end for her father.

  * * * *

  Abby wiped away a drop of sweat that ran down the side of her face. Africa was sweltering. She longed to shed her clothes and plunge into the water as the native children did. Instead, she sat atop the elephant, batting away annoying
flies and trying not to notice how far down the ground was.

  The farther they moved away from Cape Town, the harder her heart beat. Each movement of the sun higher in the sky made her stomach clench in dread and hope.

  Months of careful planning were about to come to fruition. For the first time in years, she let herself smile and enjoy the day. After all, it was the first day of her new life.

  Mr. Rye sat on an elephant in front of her, his back straight, with a wickedly long dagger strapped to his hip and a rifle resting across his thighs.

  He was an imposing figure, and she had no doubt he would make sure she was safe during her journey, especially with all the money she was paying him.

  Again and again she found her gaze drawn to Rye, wondering what brought the sadness into his coffee-brown eyes and why he chose to live in Africa. She couldn’t understand her fascination with the man. After all, it wasn’t like she hadn’t had her fair share of beaux back in England.

  But then again, those men had been after her money. Not a single one of them had wanted to marry her for her. Matters would have been much worse if anyone knew that her father, Harrison Huntington, didn’t hold her money.

  A small smile pulled at her lips as she imagined what her father’s face would look like once he discovered the truth – a truth that had been there all along, only he hadn’t been able to tear himself away from his mistress long enough to hear his wife’s will read.

  It had been to Abby’s advantage, and she intended to use it ruthlessly, just as her father had shown her. She couldn’t wait until it was all over and that part of her life was gone. She intended to fill her years with laughter and happiness at every turn.

  “Halt!” Rye shouted.

  Abby jerked her gaze around expecting to find an attack imminent. When nothing happened, she let out a sigh only to jump when her elephant shook his head.

  “Everything all right, Miss Huntington?” he asked with barely a glance in her direction.

  She kept her tone even as she looked down at Rye. “Perfectly.”

  How such an impressively good-looking man could grate on her nerves with just a few words she didn’t know. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Mr. Rye couldn’t stand the sight of her.

  Was he jealous because she had money? Had some wealthy woman once scorned him? Why she should care, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like being hated for no apparent reason. It was a fact she could be most unpleasant when she wanted to be.

  “Glad to hear it,” Rye said, his tone bland as he dismounted from his elephant. “We’ve stopped for lunch, but if you’d rather take your meal atop the elephant, I’ll have it brought to you.”

  Abby clenched her teeth. Would it behoove the man to offer her his assistance? She was paying him an absurd amount of money to see her through her plan.

  She lifted a brow and stared down at him with her most haughty expression. “I’ll pass on eating atop the elephant, thank you.”

  As she began to dismount, she bit her lip while she hastily struggled to remember how she was shown. Just as she thought she had managed it, Abby felt her foot slip and she fell backwards.

  A scream locked in her throat, but it was a pair of strong arms that caught her.

  “You need to pay more attention when you’re shown instructions,” Rye said and practically tossed her out of his arms.

  Abby drew in a shaky breath as she set about straightening her skirt and calming herself. She heartily disliked Mr. Channing Rye now. Never had she been treated so rudely. Except by her father.

  She turned to find that Rye had walked away to get his food. Abby didn’t expect to be ignored so. Men of her acquaintance didn’t begin to eat until the lady was ready. Apparently, Rye had been out of society for many years to forget such simple manners.

  Abby was too excited about it being noon to say anything to Rye. She could hardly wait for the next step in her plan, and the only drawback was that she wouldn’t be there when her father learned the truth.

  She accepted the banana and bag of food from one of the natives Rye had hired. Abby gave him a nod of thanks and a smile. She walked around their small camp and ate faster than she intended, but her anticipation got the better of her.

  Once her meal was finished, she waited impatiently for Rye to announce they would set out. Instead he lay back against a tree and shifted his hat to shield his face. A few moments later she heard him snore.

  Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. For several minutes she stared at him while he continued to snore. With a sign of frustration, Abby walked around the tree and sat back against it, her ankles crossed in front of her. The hot noon sun soon began to lull her to sleep.

  Just before she closed her eyes, she looked over to make sure the elephants hadn’t wandered off. It would thoroughly mess up her plans if their only means of transportation left.

  Abby sighed as she gave into sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Channing St. John wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm before replacing his hat upon his heat. He could just barely make out the outlines of the elephants as they faded into the distance.

  With a sigh he turned to the woman sleeping peacefully behind him. His life had bordered on Hell, the outlook bleak and uninviting. He thought coming to Africa would help, but his hatred and need for revenge continued to fester.

  Taking over Tom Rye’s work as an expedition leader after Tom’s death had seemed like a final drop into the spiraling abyss that was his world. Until a letter from London had arrived for Tom. A letter from a Miss Abigail Huntington.

  Channing had hardly been able to comprehend his luck, and then he’d read the letter. He hadn’t even paused in his response, making sure to write as Mr. Rye. After many more letters, Channing began to find the revenge he craved so desperately could happen far sooner than he’d anticipated.

  What he hadn’t expected was the woman who stepped off the ship yesterday. Abigail held herself regally, as if her family’s money – money stained with blood – would give her anything she desired.

  He had watched her quietly as she got her bearings after disembarking from the ship. The smile she had directed at the lad unloading her bags had unsettled him.

  Her golden blonde waves had been elegantly pulled back in a simple knot at the base of her neck. Her pale blue gown was made of the most expensive cloth in London, and to his surprise, no jewels graced her body.

  And then her pale blue eyes had impaled him. She had large, oval-shaped eyes that tilted up at the sides ever so slightly. Her heart-shaped face wasn’t exactly beautiful, but exotic. Her mouth was wide and her lips full, pouty even. Combined with her slanted eyes and high cheekbones, Abigail collected looks wherever she went.

  Then again, men knew a woman with money.

  Channing got to his feet and rubbed his hands together. He would have his vengeance. Finally. And then maybe he could begin to live again.

  She stirred behind him. Channing turned to watch as the great Harrison Huntington’s daughter yawned and opened her eyes. She stretched, arching her back, which drew his gaze to her breasts and small waist.

  Slowly she sat up and looked around. A heartbeat later she jumped to her feet. No screaming or swooning for Abigail Huntington, not that Channing was surprised. The rapid rise and fall of her chest told him that she was worried. And frightened.

  “Odd how plans can go awry so quickly. And when you least expect it.”

  She whirled around to him. “Oh, Mr. Rye,” she said with a hand on her chest. “Thank goodness. I thought I had been left behind.”

  “You have been left.” He hooked his thumbs in his pants pocket and watched her. “You wanted to be kidnapped after all.”

  Her gaze narrowed as she began to realize all was not as it had seemed. “Kidnapped only in appearance, least you forget what we discussed.”

  “Oh, I remember what you wanted, Miss Huntington, but it wasn’t what I wanted.”

  Without a word, she lifted her skirts in
her hand and spun around as she ran away from him.

  Channing smiled in satisfaction before he ran after her. He caught her quickly, spinning her back roughly against a tree, pinning her at her throat with his forearm.

  “I wouldn’t advise doing that again, Abigail,” he said slowly and softly. “There are animals out there, animals you can’t see that are just waiting to pounce on you and have you for a meal.”

  “Who are you?”

  Her voice shook slightly, but other than that, she held her fear in check.

  Bravo. But it won’t do you much good.

  “My name is Channing St. John.” He expected her to recognize his name, and when she didn’t, the old anger began to burn inside him once more.

  She licked her pouty lips. “What do you want with me?”

  He chuckled as he released her and stepped back. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to ransom you back to your father.”

  Her mouth parted and her eyes widened. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

  “Your plan was to have him think you were kidnapped. I’m simply making your kidnapping a fact. The men I hired have returned to the port and will send a message to your wealthy father.”

  “Mr. St. John,” she began.

  “Channing,” he corrected her.

  She sighed and briefly closed her eyes. “Channing. You’ve made a dreadful mistake.”

  “Don’t. Even. Try it. Nothing you can say will change my mind. I’ve got my own reasons for kidnapping you. Now, we better start, or we won’t make camp before nightfall.”

  “How will we get there?”

  He ran a hand down his face. “We’re walking. I know it’s something new to you, but you better get used to it. And keep up,” he warned.

  Channing didn’t wait to see if she would follow as he pivoted and started walking. He knew she was terrified, and though she had more pride than a woman should, she would follow him.

  It was only a heartbeat later when he heard her rushing to catch up with him. He kept his strides long, making her nearly run to stay with him.