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either of you.”

“We all have to stay close together,” Charles argued.

“Considering the leopard this morning, it was a good thing we

were there. And it isn’t so bad. In fact, she sounded to be so

breathlessly enjoying herself that it made me feel quite a bit better

about her offer. I have slept with refined ladies before, but they

have all been married and experienced. She is different.”

“Remarkable would be the word I would choose.” Jonathan

indicated with the torch he wanted to leave the cave. “I don’t bed

innocent young ladies either. But, luckily for all of us, she is very

sensual.”

Following him outside, Charles frowned. “How much do think

is simply being here? No rules, all of us barely dressed, our future

grimly looking like we will be here for a good long while, if not

forever. She is younger than any of us and more susceptible to the

environment. It is wild, untamed, and dangerous. Jungle creatures

mate at will—I see her that way—yielding to our desires because

there is no reason why she can’t and it will please us all.”

“I see you have thought about this.” Jonathan eyed the jungle

they would have to cross again with grim resignation,

remembering the rustle of the large creature with the huge tail.

“You philosophize too often, I have told you that.”

“I want to enjoy her and not feel guilty,” Charles admitted.

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43

“You want to fuck her and not feel guilty,” Jonathan amended

bluntly, trying to feel neutral over the idea of Charles and Jenna

together, but not succeeding entirely. “Unless, you are harboring

some foolish notions of romantic love in your young head?”

“I am not sure. She is very beautiful
and
courageous and

intelligent. Whatever I feel, it isn’t the same simple lust I have felt

for other women. The major also, he looks at her with more than

simple admiration.” Charles also gazed at the tangled vegetation

but with an abstract expression. “What if we all fall in love with

her? It could happen. Is it possible for three men to love one

woman and share her?”

That observation hit a little too close to home. Lifting his knife

to swipe at a frond, Jonathan said flatly, “You are the romantic.

You tell me. And if your memory serves you at all, perhaps you

will recall that I do not fall in love. I don’t believe in it.”

Charles lifted his brows. “They say the most jaded fall the

hardest.”

Jonathan scowled. “
They
are idiots. Now, shall we go back and

wade through the forest of teeth and stinging bugs? I cannot wait to

pass under that tree again, the one with the green thing lurking in

its branches with eyes like jewels and a girth that undoubtedly

means he could swallow a cow whole.”

Charles laughed. “I’m right behind you, my lord.”

Sourly, Jonathan murmured, “How intrepid of you, Charles.”

44

Emma Wildes

Chapter 4

Her hand grasped in Anthony’s long fingers, Jenna walked

slowly across the sand. It was as if she could feel Jonathan’s gaze

still upon her. Their eyes had met briefly when major had risen

from his seat at their inevitable evening fire a few minutes before

and taken her hand with importunate demand. The unfathomable

aqua depths of the earl’s eyes revealed nothing.

Did he mind? she wondered. Lord Charbeau being an

emotional enigma. He made love with tender skill, but his desire

for her could be little more than that, which was something she

needed to face. Actually, she reminded herself, as Anthony led her

to the crude shelter, it was better for everyone if he didn’t mind.

That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? They were all friends—

comrades, as she had said before, and she offered her body in the

same spirit they would face a hungry leopard to protect her, risking

their own life and limb.

So, the earl was wickedly good-looking and a tender lover,

what of it? Anthony Reeves was handsome and she had no doubt

he would be careful of her. And Charles was an irresistibly

attractive young man. His teasing remarks and the smoldering

looks he sent her way were both amusing and flattering.

Dismissing Jonathan from her mind as much as possible, she

proceeded inside, seeing the same mat where she had lain with the

earl the night before with a pang of regret for what could be…
no,

for heavens sake
, she told herself firmly, all three men only wanted

the same thing and that was all she wanted to give.

“Let me.” Anthony’s voice was low, muted, his glinting gaze

Savage Shores

45

subdued fire. His hands touched her shoulders and slid lower to

untie the loose bow above her breasts, baring them. The garment

slipped free of her body altogether seconds later.

Then he unfastened his breeches and shoved them downward,

his erection coming free, stiff against his stomach. The light was

better than the night before and she stared at the rampant length of

it, wondering if he was as big as the earl was. A shiver of

anticipation ran through her body to pool in her stomach.

Easing her down in his arms so she lay supine on the sleeping

mat, Anthony’s mouth nuzzled her neck as he pulled her close. He

felt very hard and solid, different from Jonathan, his shoulders

thicker, his slight beard teasing the juncture of neck and shoulder.

“Jenna, you are so lovely,” he whispered against her skin.

Putting her arms around his waist, she felt a glimmer of

pleasure already at being held so close and reverently. His hands

were gentle as he stroked her back, sliding downward to cup her

bare buttocks and pull her tightly to him, the long length of his

rigid cock against her stomach. It felt hot and hard, and his

impressive muscles rippled as he moved, finding her mouth, his

kiss and taste entirely different that what she had experienced

before. Anthony moved his lips slowly against hers, his lashes

shut, and the evidence of his desire pulsing against her soft belly in

time with his heart.

Opening her mouth to accept his questing tongue and running

her hands up and down, measuring hard muscle and ridges of scar

tissue from old war wounds, Jenna let herself drift into a world

where nothing existed but what he could give her, a throbbing need

beginning between her legs. Jonathan had taught her what

incredible pleasure a man could bring to a woman and she innately

wanted that sensation. The fact Anthony would also achieve equal

satisfaction and wanted it so fervently gave her a sense of power

she didn’t know she craved. She had been helpless against the

fateful storm, helpless against dictates of the three men who had

46

Emma Wildes

saved her—but she held them all cupped in her hand with the

allure of her body.

Releasing her mouth, Anthony gazed into her eyes, touching

her hair, sifting it through his fingers. “You are like an incredibly

splendid dream,” he murmured, “in an unreal world. Too good to

be true. Is this truly happening?”

“I think so,” she replied, a little shy but also wanting and

receptive. “It certainly seems unreal when I waken each day and

realize where we are, but…I admit, less so as time passes.”

“For me, too.” His mouth grazed hers lightly, tasting but not

possessing. “Your breasts are perfect, soft yet firm, God—I admit I

want you beyond my honor. Let me touch you and show you how

much. Just lie back.”

Doing as she was bid, Jenna relaxed, liking the way he fondled

and toyed with her nipples, cupping and lifting the pliant weight of

her breasts, sucking on the taut crests until they were hard and

erect. Lavishing time and effort on her upper body until she was

almost dazed with desire and need, he used his hands and mouth

freely. Jenna was almost surprised when she realized that she was

getting very wet between her legs, a fevered feeling capturing her

entire body. She sighed when he shifted his weight on top of her,

his swollen shaft prodding her female opening as she willingly

opened her legs. She whispered dreamily, “Anthony...yes.”

“You want me?”

“Oh…please.”

“I’m here.” He teased her lower lip with his tongue, pushing

his rigid penis slowly inside her body. She was still a little tender

and but it didn’t outweigh her response to the male organ that

invaded her passage. She closed her eyes in surrender, opening her

thighs wider as Jonathan had instructed her to do, giving her body

completely.

“God,” Anthony groaned, his erection going deep, plunging

into her. “Oh, hold on. I need to love you now.”

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47

The word “love” was an abstract applied to what they were

doing, but she complied, feeling him slide in hard and out slowly

of her wet sheath, her breath coming fast, her eyes half-shut. His

lovemaking was slow at first but rapidly escalated to greedy need

for them both. Her hands clutched his wide shoulders as her body

reached for that sublime pinnacle.

He also seemed to be barely in control, his blond hair damp

and thick as she sank her fingers into it, his face tight and his eyes

narrowed. He moved inside her time and again, one thrust after

another until she tightened unexpectedly. It came so quickly she

dug her nails into his flesh as she went over the edge of that

pleasurable cliff, falling into a whirling space, her body responding

to the ultimate male possession with a will of its own. She

convulsed and moaned in open enjoyment, suddenly not caring if

anyone heard her orgasmic release, unable to stifle the cry that

ripped from her throat.

He found his own pleasure a minute later, ejaculating hard

inside her with a low fierce sound, his forehead coming to rest on

hers as he released his semen with such a force that she felt it

warmly coat her passage, his powerful body shuddering. Putting

his arms around her a minute or so later, Anthony rolled to the

side, taking her with him, breathing harshly.

She liked being held so close, she thought, a lassitude of

fulfillment making her weak and submissive. He might not be

Jonathan—a wayward thought when Anthony was inside her,

softening but still filling her passage. But he was strong and kind

and she would sleep soundly in his arms.

And that was all she wanted, wasn’t it? To be safe and

protected.

Well, almost.

* * * *

48

Emma Wildes

Son of a bitch
.

Jonathan narrowed his gaze on the offending item and tried

again, using a rock to pound the whittled wooden stake into the

sand.

“Here, Richmond, let me help.”

Glancing over, he saw Anthony Reeves leaned forward to

steady the piece of wood, his blond hair falling thickly over his

neck, his naked upper torso tanned a deep bronze from all the time

they spent in the sun. The man, Jonathan noted sourly, looked

relaxed and pleased with himself, which was no wonder,

considering he had Jenna to himself all night.

Her sensual nature—which he had been the first to discover,

was going to be a thorn in his side now. And to make matters

worse, Charles was remarkably cheerful this morning, even for

him, undoubtedly looking forward to his night in her receptive

arms.

Lifting the rock and letting it fall so hard the stick went in

almost all the way, he murmured, “Thanks, Reeves.”

“You’re welcome.” Grinning with uncharacteristic openness,

Anthony lifted his brows.

“Christ, don’t be so damned smug,” he snarled, not meaning to

let emotion show but unable to contain it. “I could hear you well

enough last night.”

“I had a feeling it would bother you, the way you look at her.

Smug doesn’t describe it either,” Reeves commented, the grin

fading. “I don’t feel that way about her. The fact that Jenna is

discovering herself as a woman doesn’t mean I am the lover of her

dreams.”

“No,” Jonathan said too quickly, “it doesn’t.”

“Neither does it mean you are,” Reeves reminded him, looking

irritatingly bland. “My guess is she is embracing her new sexuality

like we did in our first freedom of discovery when young men. I

don’t know about you, but I drank and fornicated without much

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49

discrimination, finding with maturity my tastes were not for that

sort of unbridled behavior.”

“My tastes are still the same,” Jonathan admitted. His

reputation for shying away from permanence was legendary. “I

prefer ladies who give willingly and then don’t mind when you

walk away.”

“I think, in our old world, Jenna would be a lady who most

definitely would mind if you walked away from her.”

“In our old world, I would never have laid a finger on her.

Marriageable young ladies are strictly off my list of potential

lovers.”

“Then perhaps you would be better off not to fall in love with

her.”

Reaching for one of the palm fronds to cover the pit where they