She would have preferred a bed. In an ideal world, Rose might have wanted her second time with Michael to be much the same as the first – in a plush bed in a well-appointed bedroom. But now, somehow, she found that the time and place meant little to her. All she knew was that she wanted the man inside her as soon as possible, and damn the details.

Even as she pressed her mouth to his, she remembered that he was tired. He worked with patients all day, washed and rewashed his hands until they were chapped and blistered – but he hadn’t complained not once.

She realized she had been woefully wrong in her assessment of Earl Michael Tate. Up until this point, Rose had been convinced that, despite what he might want her to think, Michael was stereotypical nobility. His mother and father had molded him in their image, and there was no escaping that.

In a way, Rose was right. In the typical matter of British aristocrats, Michael was used to getting what he wanted. He wasn’t afraid to make demands and take things as he saw fit; but as far as what Michael wanted…the only thing Rose had ever seen him go after aggressively was she herself.

And that…she found she didn’t mind so much.

Though there wasn’t a bed in the small hut, there was a large, raised pallet that was soft enough for sleeping. If Rose thought Michael was too tired to do much beyond collapse on it, however, she was proved wrong when he lifted her into his arms to deposit atop their makeshift bed. He completed the action without ever taking his mouth from hers, and Rose moaned as he tugged at her lower lip hungrily. There was no way he should have so much energy – she’d intended to take the lead.

But it appeared as if Michael had other plans. Even as she worked at the buttons of his shirt, he was already lifting her camisole off and over her head to bare the simple cotton bra she wore beneath. The temperatures in this hemisphere of the world prevented her from wearing much else – and for once, Rose was glad. The sooner she felt Michael’s naked skin against hers, the better.

The man reached behind her in a swift motion to undo the clasp of her bra, and her breasts tumbled free. But Rose barely had a moment to feel the absence of the thin cotton before the scalding heat of Michael’s mouth wrapped around one of her nipples. She gasped, her fingers threading through his hair as she clutched him close to her. The man took hold of one of her thighs, hoisting it high so he could fit himself in between. The moment he pressed his rising erection between her legs, Rose arched against him, a soft whimper of need escaping her. How long had it been?

It seemed like eons had passed since the last time she had Michael inside her. Reaching down, she fumbled for the fastening of the slacks he wore, only to have him catch her eager hands firmly. “Slow.” He murmured a low, husky command against her ear a moment before nipping at the fine line of her neck. “No need to rush.”

But there was. Rose wanted him so badly she thought she might die with need of him. Of course, it would stand to reason that the infuriating man would thwart her. This, however, was not the time to take up arms. She would do her best to get him to see reason – her reason.

Lowering her head, Rose pressed her own line of heated, biting kisses over Michael’s throat and collarbone before continuing lower, over the gorgeously sculpted width of his chest. She didn’t think she would ever quite get used to being able to touch him like this – Rose had the idea that Michael all but invited it whenever he could, while she could barely bring herself to be so bold.

Of course, there were occasions when her need eclipsed her rational mind. Then, allowances were made.

She loved the way his breath hitched when her lips ghosted over a nipple, the way his divine stomach muscles contracted when her fingertips skittered over his abdomen. He was, she realized, just as vulnerable to her as she was to him – and that power made her feel invincible.

Rose found a particularly vulnerable spot on the man’s neck sucked hard. Michael’s grip tightened until it was almost vice-like and he thrust the jut of his erection against her instinctively. Rose shuddered, reaching for her goal once more. This time, when she undid his zipper, he didn’t utter the slightest protest. Instead, he only growled low in his throat, helping her divest him of his pants. Within moments, they were tossed off against the thatched wall of the hut to join the pile that her shirt and camisole had started.

When Rose finally peeled his underwear down over his thighs, his erection sprang, thick and hot, against her bare belly. Though she was still wearing her cotton pants, there might as well have been nothing between them. Michael palmed her breasts, drawing the nipples to swift attention with dexterous fingers as his mouth devoured hers. As quickly as she’d divested him of his clothing, he stripped her off her pants before all but ripping through the flimsy material of her underwear. Then, she was gloriously naked, his sweat-slick skin sliding against her own.

But she still hadn’t won.

Rose’s attempts to position herself adequately beneath Michael were thwarted when his mouth let hers and a rough moan escaped her. The man skirted past her breasts, only teasing her aching nipples with his thumbs before he finally began kissing and licking at her lower belly. At the unexpected attention, Rose squirmed, her fingers tugging at his dark waves in an attempt to get him back to where she wanted him.

She should have known better.

Michael ignored her completely in favor of a more selfish goal. Taking hold of the soft flesh of her thighs, he parted them almost brusquely to reveal the prize in between. Rose hadn’t a single second to be mortified before his mouth covered her lower folds to begin a ravenous worship that threatened to draw a scream from her lips.

The young woman bit down on her lower lip, her entire body trembling. Somehow, she found herself both wanting to escape and draw closer to Michael’s ridiculously talented mouth. Every lap of his tongue threatened to steal away her rational thought – the way he sucked and licked at the most sensitive parts of her was nothing less than obscene. But Rose could have no more stopped him than she could have ceased to exist.

She gasped her lover’s name, begged and pleaded until he concentrated his attentions on the minute bead of her pleasure, swollen and over sensitized from his teasing. All it took was a few seconds of deliberate, soft suckling and she was exploding – her toes curling as her orgasm swept her powerfully over the edge into an ocean of pleasure that stole her breath.

Michael took it all in stride, massaging her thighs and behind sensually until she came back down to earth. He still lapped at her every so often, sending spikes of pleasure through her already exhausted form, until she was urging him back upwards with breathless sounds of protest. “Stop…” she groaned against his mouth, tasting herself on his lips. “Please…”

Michael merely chuckled darkly against her lips. “I thought this was supposed to be about me, Rose…” He nipped at her lower lip before sucking it slowly between his own. “And I’d be content to spend the evening with your thighs wrapped around my neck.”

She shook her head frantically, the prospect alone enough to make her stomach clench in longing. “Need you...inside.” How the hell had he managed to reduce her to this panting, writhing creature of need? Before Michael, Rose had all but decided that she could do without sex, thank you very much. Now, fantasies about Michael took up at least half of her waking hours.

Even now, Rose thought he would continue to tease her. That was, after all, in his nature. However, at her plea, Michael’s eyes took on a predatory gleam. He shifted on the pallet until the length of his arousal pressed against the cleft of her drenched lower folds.  “Say that again,” he commanded, low and rough against her ear so she arched against him powerfully.

And, for once, Rose didn’t deny him. “I need you!” She all but sobbed the words, knowing that she’d been caught in a moment of vulnerability. She, who prided herself on needing no one, admitted that she wanted him more badly than she needed her next breath.

And, of course, Michael assuaged her.

His thrust home drew a stifled cry from her as her muscles clenched reflexively around his intrusion. Then, he pressed deeper, and a low moan tore from her lips as his mouth found hers once more. Rose wrapped her arms around his neck as he began to move, withdrawing almost completely before filling her again and again.

Had it felt this good the first time? Had anything ever felt so good? The young woman wasn’t sure. What she was certain of was that Lord Michael Tate was going to be the death of her and all her better sensibilities. With each slide of his body against hers, each punishing, glorious thrust, she wanted more and more of him. Sweat-damp hair clung to the back of her neck, and her legs were wrapped, vice-like, around his waist. She never wanted it to end.

But an earth-shattering conclusion was inevitable.

Reaching beneath her, her lover curled his fingers into the supple flesh of her behind, angling his thrusts so that every motion stroked a place inside Rose that made stars spring to life before her eyes. Rose kissed him hungrily, drinking from him desperately as his rhythm dissolved into ragged, primal motions of his hips against hers. She was close, so close…

And then he whispered in her ear; “Come for me, Rose. Do it now.”

The blonde heiress complied in spectacular fashion. Her second orgasm of the evening crashed over her as she clung wildly to Michael, riding out the waves of her passion. He was swept up in her wake, groaning lowly as he thrust deeply before a hot rush of seed spilled inside her. Rose gasped, relishing the intimacy of the moment – and it occurred to her dimly that this was the second time she had let Michael inside her without protection. She, of course, was protected herself, but for her to be so careless…well, suffice it to say, Michael brought out a number of qualities she usually prided herself against.

But none of that mattered now. Her only concern was the man still wrapped around her, and the way their breaths mingled as their bodies cooled. Unlike before, the immense man didn’t automatically roll away from her. Instead, he let his weight press her into the pallet, and Rose found no temptation to complain.

It felt good to be like this – at peace with the world. They had made it to Africa, they were doing everything they possibly could, and now, after several days of need so acute it was almost pain, Michael was here with her – without a single smart comment on his lips. The thought was enough to draw a small smile from her.

Almost ten minutes passed before the good doctor finally lifted himself from her. When his still half-hard erection slid from her, Rose bit her lip at the moan of longing his absence elicited. When she moved to procure towels for them instead, however, Michael merely wrapped a burly arm around her waist and hoisted her back against him. A low cry of surprise escaped her as he tugged her back down on the pallet before pinning her against him.

She might have planned to make her move the moment the man fell asleep, but Rose was shocked to find that he already was asleep – snoring softly against her neck.

She must have worn him out.

No, strike that. He had already been worn out. Rose had merely pushed him over the edge to exhaustion. Of course, the first time she’d fallen asleep in Michael’s arms, she woke in a panic. Now, despite the heat of the Congo and her own reservations, she couldn’t tear herself away. Besides that, it would be selfish to wake up such a hardworking man.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

With all the life-threatening events going on in the village coupled with their own shenanigans, Rose and Michael didn’t fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning – which meant that barely a few hours passed before they were woken again.

Rose couldn’t remember the last time she’d been more tired. She forced herself into her clothes before heading out to the communal pump with those well enough to care for others. After splashing her face with cold water, she found herself ten times more alert – enough to blush when Michael looked in her direction. He had trudged out to the pump shirtless, and once everyone was through washing up, he held his entire torso over the pump and wet himself from the waist up.

Rose stared – she couldn’t help it. The man’s body was even more magnificent in the morning light. By the time they walked back to the hut to dress, the sun had all but dried him. Any attempts she made to dress quickly and slip from the hut were thwarted by a single touch – Michael drew his fingertips intimately across the small of her back, making her tremble lightly. He did nothing more – and nothing was needed for her mind to be on him for the rest of the day.

And the day after that.

And the entire week following that one.

Rose had always prided herself on her dedication to her charity work. It was one of the few things she believed gave her life meaning. Her way of atoning for all the opulent spending of her generation and her parents before her. She felt the most fulfilled when she was helping others – so much so that she tended to rise to her own physical slice of heaven when she was working.

Now, she found herself in a slightly different position.

Her days were consumed with helping the people of Elisee’s village – nursing the sick and making sure that simple infrastructure didn’t fall apart. All in all, the actions were nothing the young woman hadn’t seen before in her travels. She brought water from wells, fed the very elderly and the very young thin water porridge, helped to make food and purify water, as well as spent a good portion of her time helping Michael out in the makeshift hospital. However, instead of being completely absorbed in her duties this go-round, Rose found herself drawn to watch the way Michael worked.

She found that she both envied and admired him. The man could administer the kind of care that she couldn’t, having a formal medical certificate. Atop that, he had an innate skill for being able to examine each patient with attention to their particular situation – he treated adults with the same courtesy that he treated children, and made sure to do his job thoroughly without cutting corners. The people of the village took to him instantly, and offered him little in the way of resistance when it came to treating them.  By their second week in the village, most of them were up and on their way back towards health, thanks to the Doctor’s treatment and strict instructions.

Michael also helped the Doctor Mabele’s men to make sure that some of their supplies were hidden, in case the village was raided for goods again. They would need water purifiers, food, and a number of medical supplies, which he helped them stash in a secret place that not even Rose knew about.

The more she watched him, the more attracted to him she grew – and Rose couldn’t force herself to simply ignore him. That might have been possible once, but it wasn’t anymore. She was spending too much time in close quarters with the man – and it was slowly eroding the barriers she’d built around herself.

Rose had sworn to herself that she’d never let a man in if she could help it. That road only led right where her mother wanted it to – marriage and eventual settling when she could hardly stand the idea at her age. This was where she belonged.

…but Rose had to admit that she’d barely ever contemplated what might happen if there was a man who had the same mindset as she did. Certainly, that man wasn’t Michael. He was doing this as a favor to her. He was far too entrenched in his medical practices and the world beyond to actually share her unique point of view…but a man like him forced her to wonder…had she been robbing herself her entire adult life?

It was an interesting notion…one she promised herself she’d consider more the moment she had the time. Currently, she was swamped.

And that was the way Rose preferred it.

Of course, she could only work so many hours in a day. There came a time where everyone settled down – where the village went quiet for the night. And then, Rose would remember that she was sharing a tent with Michael. Sometimes she would reach the hut before him and fall into an exhausted sleep and sometimes she would arrive to find him already there. In the case of the former, she would always find herself woken by the man’s presence beside her. Most of the time they were far too exhausted to do anything but sleep, but sometimes…sometimes Michael did things that stole every iota of her strength before she actually got to sleep.

And it was those nights she liked best.

She and Michael fell into a routine for the two weeks they spent at the village. They worked for every single one of their waking hours and then all but fell into one another’s arms for the rest of the day. As they were so far from England and familiarity, Rose could almost pretend that what they were doing was commonplace – that there was nowhere to go back to. But that delusion was, unfortunately, stolen from her quite hastily.

On the verge of their third week in the Democratic Republic of Congo, their little bubble of peace was shattered.

Rose awoke around seven in the morning to a loud commotion beyond the hut that she and Michael shared. When she straightened, struggling back to consciousness, a heavy hand immediately pressed against her chest. Rose was about to chastise Michael for touching her so intimately when she took in the expression on his face.

The warning in his eyes made her blood run cold.

Michael was stock still, every single muscle in his body tense. In that moment, Rose noticed that he had moved instinctively to shield her smaller form with his own – and that fondling her breasts was the least of his intentions.

Swallowing thickly, the young woman pulled in a shaky breath as she strained to hear what was going on beyond the thin walls of the hut. From their current position, she could make out little – only that whoever was arguing spoke a curious mixture of French and some tribal language that she had no knowledge of.

They sounded hostile.

Without a word, Michael slid from the pallet, almost catlike. He was still completely naked from the previous night, and so Rose did everything in her power not to stare at him – considering the circumstances. He quickly tossed her the plain sundress she’d worn the previous day before stepping into his own khakis.

Just as Rose had finished covering herself, the door of the hut burst open, drawing a gasp of shock from the young woman as the sunlight beyond momentarily blinded her. The moment passed quickly, and then she could see all too clearly the men who stood in the doorway – they were militia uniforms and were armed with what appeared to be automatic rifles. Rose’s heart leapt into her throat as one of the men pointed his weapon at her.

“Out.” He commanded, his French fragmented. Before he could make a single move towards her, however, Michael stepped between Rose and the gun, his expression surprisingly calm.

“We’ll be out in a moment. The lady’s not decent.”

Tension filled the small hut with its stifling aura, and for a moment, Rose forgot how to breathe. The intruder didn’t lower his weapon. On the contrary, he continued to level it at Michael’s chest, and it was the first time that Rose had seen the doctor in anything else but a position of power. All it would take was a single motion of the assailant’s finger, and Michael would be gone.

The thought made her sick to her stomach.

For what seemed like an eternity, the two men stared one another down. Rose could barely stand on her own, and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. But Michael didn’t move one inch.

Finally….finally the dark-skinned man lowered his gun, but his expression remained severe. “You have five minutes!” He barked. “Someone will be watching the hut!” With that, he and his companion took his leave, shutting the door behind them.

Rose finally let out the breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding, immediately rushing to Michael’s side. “Are you alright?” Her voice was trembling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so frightened.

“Fine.” Michael’s voice was taut – curt. If he was trying to reassure her, the strain in his voice only made her all the more nervous. “Listen, Rose: You stay in the hut.”

The young woman’s eyes immediately widened in shock. He had to be joking. Armed men just told them to get out on pain of death. What was he getting at, telling her to stay inside? He was putting both of them at risk!

“I most certainly will not!” She burst immediately, her heart hammering against her ribs. “If you walk out there alone, they’ll blow your brains out!”

“And what do you think they’ll do to you?” He said, his voice quiet and firm, his gaze gleaming with something she had never before witnessed: anger. “We’re not exactly sure what their intentions are yet, so don’t jump to conclusions. I’ll try to speak with them first, but until that happens, I want you to stay here.”

She wanted to argue – it was in her nature to argue. If she wanted two, Rose could pull any number of cards on the man – that she knew the people here far better than he knew them. That she had much less to lose – but in that moment, not a single valid argument rose to her lips. Perhaps it was fear or trepidation…but in that moment, Rose couldn’t think of a single rebuttal to Michael’s demand.

Slowly, she nodded.

With her assent confirmed, Michael turned from her to continue dressing, shrugging into a t-shirt before pulling on a pair of slippers one of the community’s women had made him. Anyone who came upon him would barely know he was an English aristocrat. Rose had long made it her duty to blend in as much as she could in the communities that she helped, but Michael didn’t have to be told. After a few days in the Congo, he began to blend in naturally.

When she opened her mouth to tell him so, Rose was cut off succinctly by Michael’s lips closing over hers. For the briefest of moments, his touch blotted out all her fear – every iota of uncertainty in her body. For a fraction of a moment, it was just she and him – his taste and smell enveloping her until there was nothing left.

And then the moment was broken. “Don’t come out until I tell you to. Is that understood?” Michael cupped her face briefly, and Rose, still dazed, could do little more than nod. “Good.” Michael’s smile was faint, fading from his face a moment before he turned to slip through the door and close it behind him.

In his absence, Rose raised a hand to her mouth to run her fingers over kiss-swollen lips. Now, she had no idea what was happening outside – whether Michael or the other villagers were in danger, or what kind of trouble was befalling them.

All she could do was trust in a man out of his element.

The notion terrified her.

**

This was inevitable.

Of course, Michael had hoped they might be able to get in and out before any serious conflict came their way, but they happened to be in a country characterized by that very conflict. It was the reason their visas had been so hard to come by. The reason all the flights had been cancelled and the reason he’d had to all but sell his soul to get his own private plane to fly to Kinshasha.

So it made sense that they’d run into at least one mishap or the other.

Funny that Michael was no stranger to guns. As a doctor, he was intimately familiar with the damage they could cause. Torn tendons, ragged, bleeding wounds. Bullets from guns could poison the blood and kill you just as quickly as the wound itself could. He made himself a better doctor by studying the weapons that caused the wounds. Of course, on that front, his noble blood had helped him more than a little bit. He had access to private hunting clubs and gun shoes barred to the public – and so, there had been a period in his life during which he’d tried to research as many of the weapons as possible.

The ones these militants carried were AK47s.  Imported – which meant they were probably stolen. He had little doubt that these men were the very same ones who had raided Elisee’s village in the past and stolen the first batch of supplies sent for the little girl. They were smart – rather than elect to choose new hunting grounds, they came back to people they knew they could scare and intimidate.

Thanks to the village elders, however, this time, the supplies had been hidden. Which meant that the militants would have a time trying to find them.

He simply hoped they didn’t decide to get violent.

With Rose safe, for the moment, he strode from the hut they shared and into the early morning sunlight. Michael was painfully aware that he wore nothing that would shield him from a killing bullet – probably one of the worst nightmares of someone who knew exactly how much damage they could do. But still, he refused to panic. Panicking rarely got him anywhere. It was in his mother’s nature to panic over the slightest thing – which was why Michael had always tended towards calm in the face of calamity.

Granted, he had never been in quite this dire a situation.

The village was in a state of pandemonium. All told, there appeared to be about twenty militants who were going to round up all of those villagers who were healthy enough to stand. Others guarded makeshift hospitals and doorways, making sure the entire population was accounted for. Michael spotted the leader of the ragtag group straight away – he wore a military beret at a cocky angle, despite his rotten teeth and yellow nails. His eyes were black and cruel…which meant that speaking to him was going to be far from pleasant.

With a frown, Michael met the eyes of the pushy man who had demanded that he exit the tent. Almost immediately, he asked after Rose. “Where is the woman?” He certainly liked to point that gun of his around. Michael wondered if it was, in fact, loaded. There was probably about a fifty-fifty chance, but it wasn’t one he was willing to take.

“She’s scared,” He replied, his voice steady. “Can’t stand. She needs a moment.” The militant simply sneered, gazing back at the hut. If he took a single step towards it, it wasn’t going to matter how Michael felt about the probability of stepping in front of a loaded gun. He would do whatever he needed to keep himself between this man and Rose.

Pure instinct told him that.

Thankfully, however, his adversary didn’t try to head back for the hut. Instead, he merely poked Michael in the small of his back with the gun, urging him forward.

The doctor didn’t hesitate. He let himself be corralled towards the center of the village with the rest of its healthy inhabitants. He wasn’t shocked when he soon found himself in front of the leader of the militants himself. Michael glanced around at the frenzy of movement that surrounded him as he was forced to his knees before the man. These people were frightened. If they were asked where the supplies were hidden, and in what location, they would probably tell.

And then they would find themselves in the same situation all over again – overtaken by epidemic, starving and marked as prey to roaming groups of bandits.

“Who are you?” He was surprised that the leader spoke English – even if it was bad English. “I never see white man in this village before.”

Michael took a steadying breath. “I’m a doctor. I’ve been treating the sick here for the past few weeks.”

Almost immediately, the man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “So you have medicines? Medical supplies?”

“Only what you can find in the clinic. I’ve actually been running out of supplies. I didn’t bring enough.” He had to lie through his teeth now. It was the only way.

“I want everything you have left. Everything!” Michael nodded immediately. The quicker they took everything they could see and left, the better. No one had to get hurt. “Find all the supplies!” The leader directed his men brusquely. “Take everything they have left.”

Did Rose have to deal with this often?

The thought popped into Michael’s head all at once. The woman was constantly travelling the world, putting herself in compromising positions of poverty and danger to help those less fortunate. He was willing to bet she had found herself in this type of situation more than once before.

It had to be infuriating. Even for him, who had never been to this village, never met these people…it was hard to watch them being robbed and taken advantage of. They had so precious few resources – how could anyone with a heart prey on them like this? The anger churning in his gut was a dangerous thing, he knew. While Michael tended to be fairly composed the majority of the time, when his temper showed, it was a hard thing to reign back in.

Elias could attest to that.

But Michael kept his mouth shut. He watched as they took the remaining medical supplies available in the hospital. They even took half-full IVs away from patients on fluids and meds out of bottles. Then, they proceeded to raid houses for any and everything of value.

And still, all Michael could do was watch.

Watch and seethe.

He was breathing deeply – doing quite admirably, in his opinion, at controlling his rage. That was, at least, until Rose’s voice rang out. “Take your hands off me!” Immediately, he whipped around to see two men dragging her struggling form from the hut. Whatever their pretenses for removing her from the dwelling clinically, their hands were where they shouldn’t be – roving places that only he was allowed to touch.

His anger ratcheted up a notch.

He watched them drag her across the square, read the fear in her eyes and felt himself reaching the point of no return. It was idiotic, that he would even consider losing his temper in current company, but Michael couldn’t help it. The sight of those selfish, ignorant bastards palming Rose like she was theirs, taking what wasn’t theirs to take…

“Let her go.”

The words left him, cold and heavy with warning.  Immediately, half the eyes of the militant bandits were on him. They were itching for a fight and he’d just given them a valid reason to start one. When Rose caught his gaze from ten feet away, her eyes were wide in alarm.

Then, all at once, the leader was in front of him. Unlike his companions, he didn’t have an AK47. He had a .50 caliber pistol – an unusually gaudy machine to be swinging around in the middle of nowhere – and he pressed it to Michael’s temple without hesitation. “You don’t make the demands here, English man. I make demands here. This village is mine.”

Michael merely glared up the barrel of the idiot’s gun. He was being irrational, he knew. He was putting himself and others at risk.

…but if he had to watch one more idiot put his hands on Rose, he was going to lose his cool completely.

Michael’s mother had completely opposed his taking Krav Maga when he told her he began classes. She’d much rather he have taken up fencing or something equally as “aristocratic”. He had been happy to disappoint her. As a doctor, it had always been important to Michael to hone his mind as well as his body, and Krav Maga was a perfect martial art for doing both. The training gave him strength and dexterity, among other skills.

It also taught him how to evade a gun held point blank to his head.

Taking a deep breath, he flexed his right arm and grabbed the muzzle of the gun, tearing it away from his forehead. A millisecond after, the gun heated enough to burn his hand as it fired, and Michael fought every impulse he had to merely release it. Instead, he grabbed the damn thing, jerking it backward to a chorus of Rose’s screams. In the next moment, he had the weapon placed against the leader’s head – and he wondered what on earth he was doing. The man struggled, but reasonably, he was about half Michael’s size – if that. There was little he could do.

His companions, however, could do plenty – and they leveled every weapon that they had directly at Michael’s head.

He had exacerbated an already potentially dangerous situation – him and his damned temper.

The men shouted at him in a litany of languages to drop the weapon, their faces absolutely livid, and Michael found himself quite the decision to make. If he did let the man go, no doubt he would kill him as soon as he had his gun back in hand. If he didn’t, the men would probably realize sooner rather than later that Rose could be used as a bargaining chip, and her life would be in danger.

And it was all his fault.

The split second it took him to decide felt like an eternity – but, luckily enough, Michael didn’t end up making any rash decisions.

Because, at that point, hell broke loose from the jungle half a mile to their south.

There was an immense crashing and cacophony of metal against timber and dust as no less than three tanks appeared against the tree line. It wasn’t an overwhelmingly huge, threatening number, but it was enough to make their militant attackers cower. Within the space of two minutes, the suddenly reevaluated their plan of attack.

The men abandoned their leader, flooding from among their various places hiding in the village as they leapt into various vehicles and raced off, fear evident in their eyes. Michael wasn’t sure what was coming, but thanks to the pompous man he currently held captive, he had a weapon – and that was better than nothing, where these men were concerned. If they had tanks, they had to be infinitely more dangerous than the men that were leaving.

“Rose!” He shouted across the immense crown of villagers that were already scrambling to get back in their huts. “Go with them! Take cover!”

The moment his eyes met her outraged gray gaze, Michael knew that she planned to defy him – and he wasn’t wrong. In the space of three seconds, she had worked her way through the throng to his side. She stayed far enough away so that the man in his grasp couldn’t reach her, but close enough for him to feel her warmth. “You’re insane. The last time I listened to you, you lost your mind,” she insisted, shaking her head in defiance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He might have argued with her, had he not had a struggling Congolese militiaman in his arms, but at that point, Michael was too concerned with actively keeping her safe. That, and the tanks that were bearing down on them in spectacular fashion. Michael didn’t know whether he would label Rose brave or completely off her rocker for remaining by his side, but he was inclined to believe the latter.

After all, she had her own problems controlling her temper.

The tanks were clunky, old things – but nonetheless they moved at a solid clip. Within five minutes they were on the edge of the village – and there, the immense vehicles pulled to a stop. Despite his captive’s cursing, Michael continued to hold him tight. There was a chance – albeit a small one – that whoever was in the tanks was with the man he held.

He didn’t want to think of what might happen if that were the case.

He and Rose were some of the few people who remained in the village square, watching and waiting with bated breath to see who emerged from the tanks. One minute passed, and then two, before the heavy doors atop the vehicles clanked open.

When a head of raven waves popped out, Michael felt his jaw go slack. What the bloody hell!?

“I told you not to go fucking gallivanting off to third-world countries.” Elias Johnson stepped out of the tank before hopping down into the dust. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

For a long moment, the doctor just stared, scarcely able to believe his eyes. He had to be dreaming, right? Why the hell would Elias be in Africa?

He was even more shocked when, behind the man, a number of men in the official Congolese military uniform streamed from the tank to surround him and the man he held. “You can release him, Dr. Tate.” One of the men spoke perfect English, an amused twinkle in his eye. “He is lucky we have come to save him.”

Michael didn’t hesitate. He immediately released the man, who appeared for a moment or two to contemplate running before he merely slumped, and two of his better-dressed counterparts took him into custody. Of course, the doctor immediately handed over the gun as well. He didn’t like guns – never had. Learning them had been a necessary evil.

“Dear Lord, Michael. Your hand.” The moment the militia leader was safely away, Rose rushed to him. For once, she didn’t seem to care who was watching as she took his hand in a gentle grip, turning it this way and that. The spot that took the majority of the impact when he shoved the gun away was beginning to blister – a minor inconvenience.

“So you’re the lovely lady I’ve been hearing so much about.” When Elias addressed her, Rose’s head popped up in surprise. She looked from Michael to Elias and then back again, her expression confused.

“Michael…what on earth is Elias Johnson doing in the middle of the Congo?”

So she knew who he was. Michael colored himself slightly surprised. For someone who tended to avoid the opulence of nobility, it was pretty surprising that Rose followed someone like Elias. The man was an international celebrity.

Elias, however, only arched a brow. After all, he expected everyone to know who he was. “I came to get him. Well, both of you, more precisely. What in the seven hells were you thinking, entering the Congo at a time like this?”

Uh-oh.

Michael looked from Elias to Rose and then back again. He had no idea how he’d kept from noticing before, but they had the same stubborn look in their eye when they were determined to do something. Though they had different values, they followed those values with similar dogged perseverance.

It was unstoppable force meets immovable object. “Thank you for coming after us, Mr. Johnson, but I assure you that we entered this country perfectly legally, and with a Congolese escort. Someone of your import hardly need to come and make a scene of rescuing us.”

Michael could have groaned at the gleam in Elias’ eye. So it began.

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but you’re just an accessory. I came to get this idiot and bring him back where he belongs.” Elias walked up to Michael to smack his shoulder briefly, his scowl deep. “Your charitable works seem to have gotten the better of him.”

Bloody hell.

Rose’s face immediately reddened, and she took a step towards Elias, irritation written plain on her face.  Raising her hand, she thrust a finger into the architect’s face. “Excuse me, Mr. Johnson, but Michael came with me of his own accord. I would even hazard to say that it was his idea to follow me in the first place.”

“Yes, but he was following your gallivanting,” Elias replied without missing a beat. “Did you at all consider that when you encouraged him in this foolishness?”

They didn’t even know one another and they were already arguing. Michael didn’t know whether to be exasperated or amused.

Ultimately, however, he was given the chance to feel neither.

“No disrespect to either of you, but both of you shut it. We’re not here on a bloody joy ride.”

If Michael had been shocked when Elias emerged from the tank, he was almost shocked sideways when the lithe form of his sister, Alice, also appeared. She was, as always, impeccably dressed. Of course, she appeared completely out of place in the Congo with her crocodile handbag, fastidiously tailored pencil skirt and silk top, but anyone worth their mettle knew better than to question her. Alice was borderline obsessive about her personal appearance. After all, it was part of her job.

Both Elias and Rose simply stared at her for a moment, shocked into silence. But no one was more surprised than Michael himself. He stared as his sister climbed down from the tank amidst the commotion of soldiers chasing after the militiamen and checking on villagers. She was surprisingly graceful, considering she was wearing what appeared to be four or five inch heels. She didn’t even waver as she made her way over to Elias and Rose to look up at them both with knowing smiles. “Pardon my brusqueness, but we came here to retrieve you. If you want to have a bloody pissing contest about whose cause is nobler, you can do it on the jet.”

“Alice?” Michael couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “What on earth are you doing here?”

His sister merely sighed, flipping her dark braid over a shoulder. “I just told you. Mother’s sent me to retrieve you. She’s having a flipping conniption and you left me there to deal with it. Some brother you are.”

At that, he had the decency to flush. There was no denying that he left the country without telling his mother. He had hoped that she wouldn’t get suspicious, but Elias’ presence here was evidence enough of what had happened. He’d been found out, and no doubt the countess had gone slightly off her head.

The subject of her outrage would have been Alice – which would explain why she’d come all this way to retrieve him.

Even so…the trip was somewhat outlandish. Even for a Tate.

“I…I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here-”

“You bloody well should be.” Alice had never cut him any slack before, and it was clear that she wasn’t about to start now. Her dark eyes gleamed with irritation as she glared at him. “I have no idea what you’ve done to upset Mum so much but she’s completely lost it. She demanded that I take time off work to come retrieve you and your little friend. So, I hope you’re happy. I had to cancel a meeting with Salvatore Ferragamo for you. Ferragamo, Mike.”

Alice was one of the few people in the world who could actually make him squirm with her verbal dressing down, and this one was pretty bad.  Elias, however, seemed perfectly content to watch him get torn apart. The architect was merely watching with his signature smirk.

Alice took a moment’s break from tearing him apart to take a look at the village around them. When her eyes fell on clusters of emaciated people, her expression softened almost immediately. “What happened here?”

For the first time since Alice had gone off, Rose finally piped up. To Michael’s surprise, the aggressive tone she’d taken with Elias had disappeared entirely. “There was a cholera epidemic. The militants they’re after came and stole all the supplies from this village. They were helpless and one of them reached out to me for help. I couldn’t just do nothing.”

It was the first time he had ever heard Rose try to justify herself to anyone else without reacting defensively, and Mike would be lying if he didn’t color himself intrigued.

Alice looked from the villagers to Rose and then back again, her expression neutral. Crossing her arms over her chest, she chewed on her lower lip before finally sighing. “I understand that.” She smoothed a few tendrils of hair from her brow. “Besides, it’s not you I’m put out with.” Alice jerked her head in Michael’s direction, making him wince. “It’s him.”

Goddamn it.

“Now, both of you, come on. These men will handle everything. The village will be safe and they’ll get the help they need. And you won’t get shot.” 

At that, Michael cast a glance in Rose’s direction and they both flushed guiltily.

With a sigh, Michael merely shook his head.  “We’ll go get our things.” He took Rose’s hand quickly to tug her away from both Elias and Alice and back towards the hut they’d been forced from. Rose said nothing, merely allowing herself to be pulled along until they were hidden from prying eyes.

Michael sighed, letting himself relax for the first time that morning, Despite the pretense upon which she’d come, his sister’s presence made his heart light – and Elias’ only helped to improve his mood. They had both come all this way to get him – Elias when he knew his wife might be due any week now.

He felt confident enough to allow himself a breather – at least, that was, until Rose’s hand connected unexpectedly with his cheek.

The stinging blow echoed around the enclosed space of the hut, and Michael found himself beyond words.  When he looked up, Rose was glaring at him, her eyes wet with what looked startlingly like tears. “You bloody fool!” She hissed, her hand shaking lightly. “What on earth were you thinking? If they hadn’t arrived, those militants would have blown you to bits! You would have thrown your life away for nothing!”

Ah.

Michael gave her a long once-over. She was obviously upset – but he didn’t know if the fact that she was upset over him elated him or disturbed him. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. That had been the last of his aspirations. But, here it was. He’d put himself in danger and Rose was on the edge of tears.

Was it strange that in some perverse way, her tears made him happy?

“Rose, I’m sorry.” Stepping towards her, Michael took her wrists in a gentle grip. “They were hurting you. I got angry…I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it. Are you going to condemn me for wanting to help you?”

“If it’s at the cost of your own life, I damn well will!” Her voice was unsteady, her breath hitching on the last few syllables. The conflict with the militants had really shaken her- more so the little stunt he had pulled than anything else, apparently. When he moved to kiss her, however, Rose merely turned her face away stubbornly so his lips made contact just above her jaw. “Don’t. I’m angry with you, you lummox.”

At that, he stifled laughter. The only reason Rose stated the obvious was when she was struggling to believe it herself. In response to her protest, Michael merely pressed a soft kiss under her ear, then another against her neck, before working his way leisurely over the line of her throat.

Rose managed to stay stiff against him for all of twenty seconds before she sagged against his chest and let him hold her. Michael’s jaw still stung where she had struck him, but he supposed he deserved no less. It was a happy medium between a bullet hole in his head and coming out completely unscathed.

They packed quickly and efficiently once Rose had squirmed her way from his grip. Michael promised himself that he’d get to her later as he finished loading up his bag, and ultimately, they left their solitary hut in order to say their goodbyes to the villagers.

To his surprise, Michael found Elias consulting with a number of the village elders, instructing them on measures they could take to strengthen the roofs and foundations of the simple huts they’d built. In retrospect, Michael couldn’t say that he was too surprised. Trying to get Elias to take a moment away from working was like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip. Alice was speaking to a number of small children, all of whom were in awe of her “sky shoes”.

While his sister and best friend were occupied, Michael and Rose said their farewells. The entire village rushed into the square to see them off, and Michael found himself pulled into hearty embraces by those healthy enough to do so. They thanked him profusely, in the method that once made him uncomfortable, but now he found made his heart swell.

The first time someone had attempted to show gratitude this way, he and Rose had been in Britain at the soup kitchen. Michael hadn’t known what more he could do, save tell them it was his pleasure. But now, it was. He found himself genuinely regretting that he had to leave these people. He had learned so many names and faces, and he would always carry them with him.

“Doctor Michael!” In the midst of being smothered by several dark-skinned, elder women, Michael looked down to see Elisee standing shyly off to one side, one hand clenched firmly in Rose’s skirt. She looked up at Rose as if for reassurance. Rose merely nodded, her own cheeks flushing slightly.

Elisee broke from the young woman to launch herself at Michael’s knees, and the doctor caught her just in time, hoisting her into his arms. “Thank you for making me better, Doctor Michael.” The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly, pressing small, warm lips to his cheek.

And Michael felt his heart stutter in his chest. “Please come back and visit.”

“Of course.” His voice was suddenly much too gruff. Gently, he lowered Elisee to the ground, ruffling her downy-soft ebony curls. “Take good care of your father.”

The young girl beamed, nodding enthusiastically, a moment before she turned to Rose once more. Michael watched Rose swing Elisee up to her arms, touching her nose to the little girl’s tiny one before she reached back to unclasp the pendant she wore from her neck. It was eighteen karat gold and ruby – modest but expensive. It must have cost a small fortune.

Rose didn’t hesitate before clasping it around Elisee’s neck. “Keep this safe for me until the next time I visit, alright?”

And she would. Michael didn’t think there was a force on earth, militia included, who would be able to pry that necklace from Elisee’s small, slender fingers.

“Alright, alright. Our flight has to leave in a few hours. Get in the bloody tank.” Rolling his eyes, Michael looked back to find Elias watching him from the shade of a nearby hut. “I need some company or Alice is going to drive me out of my mind.”

“Likewise.” The young woman cast Elias a withering look before promptly linking arms with Rose. Alice would have had at least two or three inches on the blonde flat-footed, but in heels, she towered over her by a good half-foot. “So glad you’re here, Rose. I’m in need of some female company.”

Rose merely looked to Michael in a silent plea for help, but he only smirked at her. This was her punishment for striking him: she’d have to spend the entire trip back in the company of his sister. As fitting a revenge as any.

He and Elias slipped into the musty but, thankfully, air-conditioned, interior of one tank while the women dropped into the other, and then, all at once, they were on their way.

**

In Rose’s opinion, the trip back was almost as exhausting as the trip over had been. Once they returned to Kinshasha, it was evident exactly how much red tape Elias and Alice had cut through in order to be able to reach them. They were immediately taken in for questioning, and Rose faired about as well the second time around as she had the first.

Watching Alice, however, was almost as fascinating as watching her brother. It was obvious that the two of them were siblings, even if they bore little physical resemblance. The similarities in their personalities were uncanny, and Alice was the only woman Rose had seen actually cow Michael. She performed with the same grace under pressure as her older brother, and even though their interrogators were brusque and accusatory with them, Alice merely brushed them off as if they were flies.

It was a kind of poise Rose had to admit she was incapable of.

She didn’t get a chance to ask Alice about it, however, until they had boarded Michael’s jet at the airport. Elias promptly fell asleep once they were in the air and Michael, who seemed childishly amused by the idea of leaving Rose with his sister, disappeared into the bedroom – leaving the two women alone.

As exhausted as Rose was, she couldn’t deny being both interested in and intimidated by Alice. While she’d known that Michael had a sister, he barely mentioned her. In her head, Rose had built her up to be a younger clone of the countess, and now she could see that she was perhaps only half right.

By all appearances, Alice Tate was indeed a polished British lady at the height of fashion and poise. She sipped at her wine like it owed her money and despite having trudged through the dust of the Congo and being questioned for two hours, not a hair on her head was out of place.

But she was more than some titled rich lady. That much was evident in the way she’d dealt with her brother. Alice hadn’t simply thrown a tantrum and made demands, she had guilted her brother into doing what she asked and she hadn’t bat an eye. Of course, Rose felt little guilt about having run off without her parents’ permission. She did it all the time. But if Michael’s mother had really thrown such a fit, with him a man nearing forty…she had to question her motives.

“Was the countess really so upset?” She ventured over the rim of her own glass of wine. Alice looked surprised that she’d asked the question, setting aside the pad she’d been sketching on. She was, Rose noticed not for the first time, not only very posh, but also a stereotypical beauty. Long, dark hair, dark eyes and slightly tanned skin – in her physicality she was the antithesis of her brother.

“Oh…she throws tantrums all the time.” With a sigh, she waved her hand superfluously. “Certainly, this one was bigger than most, but I can imagine mother being put out over the idea that you’re possibly thwarting her big plans.”

Rose arched a brow, but she hardly needed to ask Alice to continue. The woman did so of her own accord.  “In her mind, Mike is as good as married. She assumed that he went off to Africa himself in a little show of defiance, and she still thinks that. She has no idea that you’re involved.”

Rose’s eyes widened as Alice took another sip of her wine. The young woman appeared completely calm, but Rose would be damned if she didn’t sense the slightest hint of warning in her tone. “Of course, there’s no reason for me to tell her…as long as I’m sure that you have my brother’s best interests in mind.”

Oh dear Lord. Was that what this was about? Alice was out to ensure that she wasn’t some gold-digging floozy out to drain Michael of every penny he had? The woman had to know that Rose was nobility in her own right. What possible reason could she have for wanting to steal Michael’s money?

“There are only about four weeks left in summer, you know. When everything is all said and done, I assume you both will go your separate ways?” The question was sudden and completely unexpected.

If Alice had asked it of Rose a month and a half ago, she would have been able to answer without hesitation. Now, when she opened her mouth to reply the affirmative, she found that the words wouldn’t pass her lips.

The realization was enough to make Rose’s heart stopped.

Her entire life, all she had ever truly been devoted to was the prospect of helping people. She loved her parents, but more than anything else, she considered them obstacles when it came to following her life’s passion. Rose had never truly had siblings, and she’d never been in a serious enough relationship to even consider halting in her travels.

In six weeks, Lord Michael Tate had changed something in her.

In a panic, the young woman’s thoughts whirled. She tried to convince herself that it had to be the sex. The man was disproportionately good in bed. When he touched her, her mind went soft and pliant, and she could think of nothing else but him. But the sex was all that mattered – there was nothing more. It wasn’t unusual for her to be flustered by a man who was good in bed, was it? She’d been with precious few men, and none of them knew what they were doing. Who wouldn’t want a man like Michael Tate at their beck and call?

But…that wasn’t it.

The longer she stared at Alice’s placidly waiting expression, the more confused she found herself. It…wasn’t just sex that drew her to Michael. She’d been intrigued by him the moment she saw him, and that intrigue had driven her to run for the hills. Within a week of meeting the man, every misconception she had about him had been blown out of the water. He had proven himself something beyond his family roots – a feat she desperately wished to accomplish herself.

He was a brilliant doctor – no one could deny that. And not only was he brilliant, he had the uncanny ability to stay calm under pressure. The world could be coming down on Michael Tate’s shoulders and he wouldn’t bat an eye.

…but when it came to a few Congolese militiamen roughing her up, he couldn’t contain himself. He just had to play the hero. And despite how angry Rose was at him for putting his life in jeopardy, when the man had jerked the gun away from the militia leader, her heart stopped.

Against all her better judgment, Rose liked the man. He was an upstanding individual where there were few to be had. He might have a smart mouth, but his heart was in the right place. God knew he was chivalrous enough, even if that chivalry was misplaced where she was concerned.

“I…imagine we’ll still stay in contact.” The sound of the half-hearted excuse coming from her own lips was enough to make the young woman wince. “He’s a very…upstanding individual.”

For a long moment, Alice merely stared at her, her dark eyes piercing. Then, slowly, she smiled, her expression turning from serious to amused within the space of three seconds. “Upstanding. Of course. How kind of you.” She refilled both her glass and Rose’s from the bottle the stewardess left with them before taking another sip.

For a moment, a comfortable silence fell between the two women. Rose allowed herself to believe she’d dodged a bullet, even as she contemplated why she was so viciously attracted to Michael. He was, without a doubt, one of the most singular males she’d ever met – but was that enough reason for him to haunt her every waking thought?

Perhaps it was just the wine.

“I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Rose.” Rose’s gaze jerked back to Alice’s when she spoke unexpectedly. Her companion was intensely concentrated on the sketch before her, her mouth pressed into a tight line of focus. “You seem like a very world-savvy individual. So take notice of the details around you.” Scowling, Alice erased a fine line before blowing rubber dust away delicately. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Rose stiffened at Alice’s words. “I’ve never seen him look at anyone that way. Ever.” She raised her gaze briefly to meet Rose’s. “He’s not a man that will take someone breaking his heart lightly.”

Her mouth fell open in shock.

Break his heart?

It was clear that Alice had completely misinterpreted what was between she and Michael. There were absolutely no hearts involved. Plenty of body parts, certainly, but she thought it was pretty clear that neither of them was interested in the marriage their parents seemed to be so obsessed with. She had known that this summer was going to be a disaster from the very start, only now it was turning into a disaster of very different proportions.

Everything was entirely muddled up.

Perhaps the stress of the Congo was beginning to fade now that Elisee and her fellows were safe, but the prospect of returning to Britain now had an entirely different connotation.

…What on earth had Michael told his sister to make her think that something serious was between them? As far as Rose could see, the man hadn’t been alone with her since the village. When would he have had time to gossip?

Even the image of a man as large as Michael gossiping was an absurd one.

She would have to spend the rest of the summer with the man and here his sister was, going on about breaking his heart? She obviously had no clue that her own brother was toying with Rose The man was flaky as all get-out, making her heart pound one moment and stringing her alone the next.

“Alice, I think you have the wrong idea-”

“I’m surprised that you ladies are still awake.” Rose’s mouth snapped in the middle of her sentence at Michael’s unexpected entry. They’d been in the air a good three hours, so she’d assumed he was asleep. “I’ve just come out for a nightcap.”

“Your Macallan is on hand,” Alice answered him off-handedly, never pausing in her drawing. “You might want to inhale the entire bottle before we get home to mother.”

Michael immediately winced, before shaking his head. “Better to keep a clear head.” He glanced at Elias’ quietly snoring form in the corner. “I’m sure Elias has had a few nips off the bottle.”

At that assessment, Alice made a face, glancing up at her brother. “I have no idea how you stand him. He’s completely full of himself.”

Michael chuckled, running a hand through his hair. It had grown out a bit since they’d been in Africa, and he hadn’t shaved in days. As a result, the man’s usually well-trimmed beard acquired a rugged look that Rose found she quite liked. 

She could certainly remember how his whispers had felt rasping against her inner thighs when the man had lowered his head between her legs…

The thought was enough to turn her entire face scarlet. Rose quickly took a sip of wine big enough to choke her and promptly coughed.

Inside an instant, Michael was at her side, taking her wine glass and thumping her on the back. “Alright, Rose? Something go down wrong?”

She shook her head frantically as she tried to speak. “I’m fine! Fine!” Her words came out garbled and dry, only embarrassing her further. “Really, Michael, I’m all right!”

Alice was half watching them, a small, amused smile playing about her lips. 

Michael, of course, being who he was, couldn’t just release her. The man ran his fingers over her throat, checking her lymph glands in her neck and under her chin. Rose felt his touch tingling in the tips of her breasts, and lower…in places she had no idea thinking about in front of his sister. “If you’re sure then.”

Was it her imagination, or did the man’s fingertips linger on her throat before he finally drew them away?  Rose forced herself to reconsider as he crossed the cabin to retrieve a bottle of aged Macallan whiskey from the cabinet. He poured a glass with fingers she’d see dexterously close up a wound and threw back his first drink back effortlessly. When he poured himself another, Rose couldn’t help but be transfixed by the motion of his throat as he swallowed. She had kissed that throat – sucked and licked on it until he groaned her name.

God, why couldn’t she get him out of her head?

Rose leapt to her feet, setting aside her wineglass. “I’m going to the restroom.” It was all she could think to say before she bolted to the washroom. Once inside, she closed the door firmly behind her before leaning against it. Jesus, the man had only looked at her and her heart was thundering against her ribs.

It had to be the wine. How many glasses had she had again?

Leaning down, Rose splashed water on her face, taking a deep breath before assessing her own reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright…and she felt almost as if the room was spinning. She was almost certainly drunk.

Rose’s problem was simply that she didn’t know whether she was inebriated with wine, or with Lord Michael Tate.