Her lips opened under his, and he took advantage of the surrender. He tasted passion, heard a low murmur in her throat that made the blood in his veins run hot.

Then in the space of a heartbeat he sensed her change, as he felt her remember who she was and who he was and that there was a reason—whatever it was—that she had never allowed him this close before.

He longed to bring her back to him. Longed to use every lover’s trick he’d ever learned to recapture her heady response, but he realized with a start that they weren’t alone and that a harsh voice had intruded into their reality.

The voice rose above the wind. “Arrest this man.”

Jed’s attention snapped instantly back to the here and now. Marissa went taut in his arms.

Soldiers with guns moved into position around them, cutting off any avenue of escape. But then, Jed had never thought this rescue was going to be easy. Ignoring the troops, he turned and focused on the man who had given the order.

Miguel Sanchez had the grace to look astonished. “Jed?”

“S'e, mi amigo.”

Some of the squad had recognized him, and he heard his name whispered in the circle of startled faces as he shifted Marissa to his side.

“What is the meaning of this?” El Jefe demanded. “What are you doing here interfering in my private business?”

“I apologize for arriving unannounced. But I can’t allow you to execute an innocent woman. Particularly when she’s my fianc'ee.”

“Your what?” Sanchez bellowed, any pretense of calm vanishing.

Marissa’s reaction was no less violent. Her body jerked in Jed’s arms. Raising her head, she searched his face, her eyes wide and startled. And so tantalizingly beautiful that he was almost undone. But he managed to remember why he was here and why it was so important to hang on to his wits.

“My fianc'ee. The woman I’m going to marry.” He repeated the words very slowly and very evenly, and not only for Sanchez’s benefit. Marissa needed time to take in the information.

“That’s impossible. She’s a spy!” the general growled. “She escaped into the jungle, and my men had to recapture her.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Do you know who sent her?”

“Nobody sent her. There’s obviously been some kind of mistake,” Jed countered. He’d been acting on pure instinct when he’d driven headlong in front of the troops. Now he looked at the stake that had been waiting for Marissa and was unable to keep from shuddering. “This is no place for a civilized discussion. Why don’t we go back to the hacienda and talk about it before we all get drenched.”

Sanchez nodded—a single, curt movement of his head—and began striding toward his jeep. Jed started to lead Marissa to the Land Rover, but the general’s voice stopped him. “No.” El Jefe spoke over the wind, his voice raised so the assembled troops could hear. “I insist you ride with me, amigo. One of my men will bring your vehicle and put it in the garage.”

Jed didn’t bother to argue. His life and Marissa’s depended on their getting a chance to communicate. But defying Sanchez at this moment was an even surer ticket to destruction.

Marissa still looked dazed as he helped her into the jeep’s back seat. At first she nestled against him like an injured animal. But he felt her coming back to life as El Jefe barked orders to the squad. He sensed her struggling to pull herself together, but there was only so much he could do to help without giving away the story line to their attentive audience. When the jeep lurched forward she sat up straighter and squirmed in the seat, trying to put some distance between them. Jed suspected that his leg pressed to hers was making it difficult for her to think. But he held her firmly, aware that Sanchez kept shifting his gaze from the road to glance with interest in the rearview mirror at the engaged couple in the back seat.

“I was worried about you, honey,” Jed murmured, keeping Marissa close to him and stroking his lips against her temple.

The caress made her shiver, and he wondered if the melting moment in his arms had been a figment of his imagination. No, for a few incredible seconds she’d kissed him like a lover. But he could put that down to disorientation—and a spontaneous reaction to the man who’d snatched her from the jaws of death.

He ached to find out if her surge of emotions had come from more than fear and gratitude. But that discovery would have to wait for another time and place. “I hope you’re feeling more like yourself,” he murmured, knowing the statement was only partly true. Lord, what he wouldn’t give for a few hours with the woman who had come alive in his arms.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He patted her knee, anticipating her response to the intimate gesture. She jumped, and he knew he had gotten her full attention. As much for Miguel’s benefit as hers, he began to speak in a half amused, half worried voice. “So I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you get yourself in a real mess again. Cassie and Abby and Sabrina and everybody else are going to be worried sick when they hear about this. Or maybe we shouldn’t even tell them.”