Page 73 of Love in the Wild

“Isabelle, do you mind if I go change?”

“Of course, dear. Perhaps one of the maids can still save that gown.” Isabelle hugged her, careful not to get wine on her own silver gown. Then she headed in the direction of the library to check in on Lofty.

Eden started toward the stairs but halted when she saw the door at the end of the hall start to close. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. None of the servants were here in this part of the house just then. Was it one of the guests? Isabelle had warned her that sometimes British house parties—even one-night parties like this—could be wild. Guests could get drunk and wander into places they shouldn’t be. It wouldn’t hurt to check and see.

When she reached the door, she eased it open and saw nothing but her own shadow filling the floor—and then a second shadow rose up behind her. She gasped as something struck her, and she fell into darkness before she even hit the floor.

* * *

Eden came around slowly,gradually recognizing the interior décor of a private plane. She was buckled into a seat, and from the sound of things they were already in the air.

“Here, drink this,” a voice with a cultured French accent said next to her.

She weakly accepted the bottle of water that was pressed into her hands. The man who’d spoken sat down next to her, and she got a better look at him. He was a fairly attractive man, with light-brown hair and hazel eyes, but there was nothing truly remarkable about him. He was the sort of man Eden imagined could easily walk into a crowd and be forgotten. Eden drank the water greedily, feeling it fill her empty stomach. Her body was stiff and sore, her muscles protesting even the smallest movements. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as water spilled past her trembling lips.

She tried to speak. “Who are you?”

“I was worried you’d been struck too hard. Monsieur is not a subtle man when threatened. I fear what he did with you was an act of desperation rather than logic.”

Eden didn’t recognize the man at first, but then as her memories clicked into place, the water came right back up and she vomited onto the carpet.

“Jesus!” The man leapt up and began to curse in French.

“You’re ...,” Eden panted. “You’re one of Cash’s men.”

“So you do remember me? A shame, mademoiselle. I’d hoped you would not. And I did not work for that oaf.” He retrieved another bottled water and handed it to her.

She dragged herself back upright in her seat. “Then who do you work for?”

“Drink, slowly this time, and eat.” The man handed her a protein bar. “We had to keep you asleep until it was safe to wake you.”

“Who do you work for?” she asked again.

“I work for Monsieur Holt.”

Holt. The man Thorne had attacked last night. Cash and this man had worked forhim? A number of pieces fell into place. Cameron had mentioned him when they were arranging the guest list for the party. Archibald Holt. He had companies all over Africa, including Uganda. Cameron had mentioned that Holt might prove to be helpful to them—how wrong he’d been.

“Holt had those tourists killed? Why?”

“I believe you know why.”

“But why kidnap me?”

“Ah, well ... After your friend attacked him, Holt made that rather rash and impulsive decision on his own. I believe he felt his hand was forced. In all the confusion, it wasn’t hard for him to hide out and wait until you were alone. Quite frankly, I’m amazed he wasn’t caught. But then, Monsieur Holt did not get where he is without knowing when to take risks.”

Eden looked around. “Why isn’t he here?”

The Frenchman gave a shrug. “Appearances. Abducting you in the middle of the night is one matter. Taking you through an airport without raising suspicion is quite another. He contacted me and arranged for this little journey. He will be taking a commercial plane to avoid any connection and then meet us at our destination.”

“So what’s your plan, then?”

“My plan?” He smiled. “I am not the villain of the story, mademoiselle. I care only about the gemstones and evaluating them. Mr. Holt is paying me quite well to escort you to him. When my job is done, I will leave Africa and return to France.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Where? Back to the beginning, of course.” The man leaned back in his chair, smiling pleasantly. “Do you know why Monsieur Holt sent that brute Cash into the jungle?”

“To steal a treasure that doesn’t belong to him,” said Eden.

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