The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

A blinding beam of light suddenly swept over, and Victoria instinctively raised her hand to shield her face.

As her eyes adjusted, she realized who was standing before her-it was McNeil.

He stared at her, his gaze icy, expression unreadable.

"Do you have any idea that everyone's out there looking for you?"

Victoria honestly didn't know. At that moment, the only thing she wanted was an explanation for why Violet's photographer had lured her out here, only to vanish into thin air.

If she hadn't had some wilderness survival training—and even won a few tough competitions—someone like her, just an ordinary woman, probably would have been scared half to death.

"Oh," she replied, noncommittal.

She had no desire to explain herself to McNeil. The dampness from the storm outside had seeped into her bones, leaving her shivering.

The cave was dry enough, but perched near the mountaintop, the temperature inside was still freezing.

Once he'd found her, McNeil stepped inside. Victoria heard his shallow, quick breaths; he sounded almost out of breath, as if he'd rushed to get there.

He passed by her, the scent of rain and cold clinging to him. His rain jacket was soaked through, evidence that he'd been caught in the worst of the downpour.

Without a word, he knelt and started making a fire-his movements swift, practiced, nothing like someone used to a life of luxury.

"Come give me a hand," he said, barely glancing her way-a command, not a request.

Victoria moved over, but when McNeil shrugged off his dripping jacket and offered it, she didn't take it. Instead, he shook the water off and hung it on a jut of rock nearby.

They worked together in silence, coaxing the fire to life. As warmth began to seep into the air, they retreated to opposite sides of the flames, keeping to themselves like strangers forced together by circumstance.

Time passed in quiet, broken only by the steady trickling of a stream nearby and the relentless pounding of rain outside. Even huddled close to the fire, the chill cut straight through.

Victoria sneezed, then curled up with her head on her knees, exhaustion pressing her toward sleep.

She didn't know how long she drifted like that, but suddenly, warmth wrapped around her. Someone's arms pulled her into a solid, familiar embrace, the scent of pine and woodsmoke filling her senses.noveldrama

Startled awake, Victoria tried to push McNeil away, but his grip only tightened, holding her firmly in place.

"Earlier, with a crowd around, you didn't mind burying your face in my chest. Now it's just the two of us, and you're suddenly shy?" His tone was teasing, but something in it was softer than before.

As the night deepened and the temperature dropped, it was hard to deny that sharing body heat beat shivering alone by the fire.

Victoria let out a quiet laugh at his insinuation. The truth was, it had been his zipper that caught her hair earlier he could have helped her, but instead, he'd watched her struggle, then claimed she'd been throwing herself at him.

If he weren't McNeil-who could have any woman he wanted without the slightest effort—she might have thought he was just another arrogant narcissist.

"Mr. Langford, you've got the wrong idea," she said quietly. Still, wrapped in his arms, every word felt oddly intimate.

He knew exactly what had happened; there was no reason to twist things and make it seem like she'd tried to seduce him.

"Wrong idea?" McNeil murmured, glancing down. In the firelight, her long lashes cast delicate shadows on her pale cheeks, trembling with each breath. Even bundled in her jacket, he couldn't help but notice the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

The memory of last time burned fresh in his mind. Suddenly, his throat felt dry, and he swallowed hard. Without warning, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her onto his lap and locking her in a close embrace.