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right she’d been to label him… big . She could no more look away than she could quit breathing. The thought made her realize she wasn’t breathing. When she did, she sighed, embarrassing herself.
    He looked up sharply in her direction. Though he couldn’t have heard or seen her, her heart drummed in her chest. She leapt to her feet, her skin on fire, then ran through the jungle as though wild.

Three
    G rant had a sinking suspicion that he’d been watched bathing.
    Yes, the weeds suddenly bobbing near the falls could have been caused by an animal, but he suspected not. When he returned to the camp and saw his men scrambling toward the bushes to lose their breakfasts, he was certain. Ian woke, looked up from his pallet at the scene, and through a yawn decreed, “Round two, Victoria.”
    Grant concluded the same. She’d done this. He ground his teeth. If she wanted to turn this into a battle of wills, he’d oblige.
    What a way to start the day—annoyed, exhausted, his body pained and recently ogled by a young woman. And what he wouldn’t give to have that situation reversed, he thought, then flushed.
    Ian rose, inching up in stages. “There’s something on my body that doesn’t hurt,” he croaked. “Can’t say what it is just now. It’ll come to me.”
    Grant understood. Even after his swim, his head pounded in waves. And his back—he was certain someone had grabbed his shoulders and shoved a knee into his spine during the night.
    Ian hobbled around camp. “Dooley, you have any food you’d trust?”
    â€œNo, Master Ian, not yet. I just don’t understand. It must’ve been bad water. Or maybe a dirty cask.” Dooley looked so pained when he said the last that Grant was tempted to tell him what he suspected. Then he remembered his sister-in-law describing her time aboard Derek’s ship. Two dozen men had blamed her for a poisoning and clamored hourly for their first female keelhauling. For Victoria’s sake, he’d have to let Dooley take this one on the chin.
    Ian announced, “Grant, I’m going with you.”
    Grant simply looked at him.
    â€œWhy? Because I’m starving and wouldn’t chance anything here. Since you ordered the crew to remain in camp, my best bet’s to go with you.”
    Grant shouldered his pack and couldn’t hide a wince. How had the damn thing gotten so heavy since last night? “If you complain like you did yesterday, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
    â€œUnderstood. I won’t complain like yesterday,” Ian promised as they started off. “I’ll either complain a little less or a bit more.”
    As noon approached and the sun stabbed the canopy from directly above, Grant concluded he would not have better luck with Victoria than on the previous day. In fact, he had the impression she mocked him—staying close but just out of reach, sending them on punishing trails to marshes, seep holes, boulder-blocked paths.
    When a fly lighted on Ian’s face, he slapped his cheek hard enough to leave a handprint. “That one had bulk, forgodsakes,” he mumbled. “You know how explorers are always writing in their journals about the jungle, comparing it to a woman? A woman indifferent to your suffering? I believe it! This jungle’s a rutting bitch.”
    Grant didn’t agree. No, indifference would be preferred. The jungle toyed with them, suffocating them, protecting them from the sun, yet collecting its heat to weaken them. Grant wasn’t an explorer by nature. His philosophy was to expend all that energy making home so satisfying you’d never want to leave. He’d be happy to be tied to one land, if it was the right one, his entire life. Wasn’t that the purpose of this trip? To claim Belmont Court?
    He froze in the trail, coming face-to-face with an immense spider. Bigger than his hand, it sprawled eerily