Stranded With Ella Read online

  She pointed at a set of tracks on the ground. Bird prints, in particular. Three toes with the middle one much longer than the two outside ones. Her eyes blazed with excitement when she glanced at him. “Those look like kiwi tracks to me. I’d love to glimpse a wild kiwi.”

  “I listen to them at night sometimes if I can’t sleep. Once the weather gets better, you might hear them call.”

  She skipped farther along the trail, eyes down, backside up and reminding Dillon of a dog on a scent. Her arse wasn’t so shabby either. His hands tingled, recalling the previous night and the way her curves had nestled into his body. He couldn’t wait for a repeat.

  She came to an abrupt halt. “Look.”

  Dillon ambled closer and spotted a series of holes in the bank. Ella had her backside sticking in the air again, and he barely restrained himself.

  “I’m sure these are probe marks,” Ella said. “I wonder where the kiwi burrow is.”

  “It could be anywhere around here,” Dillon said. “My block backs on to the neighbor’s place and your wildlife center. The proximity to Mt. Bruce is part of the reason I have so many native birds in my section of bush. That’s my boundary fence there.” He gestured, checking the condition of the fence by sight. It didn’t look as if any trees had toppled during the storm.

  Dillon led the way farther along the track, which exited the trees at a summit.

  “You have a beautiful plot of land.” Ella stopped beside him, her face glowing with exercise and enthusiasm. “How much are you intending to clear for pasture?”

  “I have enough to graze a larger herd of alpaca. Hana and I…” Dillon trailed off, realizing although he thought about Hana, he seldom spoke of her aloud. He cleared his throat and forced himself to continue. “We didn’t intend to increase our herd by too much. We figured we had sufficient grazing for at least thirty alpacas. We intended to have a hobby farm rather than a large unit.” Dillon stopped talking, his throat tight.

  Ella’s expression softened as she gazed over the bush, the pastures beyond and the silver glint of the distant creek. “You wanted enough animals for Hana to cope with on her own.”

  “Yes, with Dad’s help. We started small to make sure the area was suitable for the alpacas. They’re thriving, and Hana was excited about building the herd numbers.”

  “You’re intending to continue with your plan.”

  “I like working with the animals. They’re friendly and curious. Good natured.”

  “What will happen when you rejoin your soldier friends?”

  “Dad has been looking after them. It’s not ideal, but a better solution hasn’t presented itself.”

  “I could look after them for you.”

  “No,” Dillon snapped.

  Ella flinched at his spurt of temper. “I—”

  “I don’t want you here on your own. It’s not safe. The fences are fine. Let’s head back to the house now.”

  Ella nodded, quiet after his snappish reply, and another layer of guilt slapped on his shoulders. Then he stiffened and straightened, unrepentant at his harsh words. He’d left Hana here alone and he’d be damned if he placed another woman in the same position, even if it meant battered emotions and an empty bed.

  “Well, can I at least buy fleece off you? I’d like to try spinning it.”

  “There is a bag in storage. I’ll deliver it to your place.”

  “How much will you charge?”

  “I don’t want your money.” And he was snarling again. Dillon sucked in a long breath and eased it out slowly while he struggled with his temper. He paused, realizing he’d stomped with long strides, leaving Ella behind. “Sorry.”

  Instead of acting snappish in return, Ella reached out and squeezed his arm in silent commiseration. “I’m sorry too. Why don’t I trim your beard when we get back? I’d get to view your angry face in its full glory. Earlier, I missed the full effect.” And she winked at him.

  Dillon’s mouth dropped open, and he gaped at Ella. His mouth shut, opened, and clacked shut with finality.

  “No comment?”

  A growl escaped him, and Ella laughed.

  “Maybe we can shower together,” she suggested.

  Dillon did the fish mouth thing again because words failed him. Instead, he walked in silence. His sat-phone rang, and he answered it with relief.

  “Hi, Dad. No, I haven’t checked the creek level yet. We’re intending to drive down later this afternoon. Yeah. Okay. We should be able to get Ella out tomorrow, as long as it doesn’t rain again.” He paused, listening to his mother speaking in the background. “No, we’re fine for food, but Ella is looking forward to getting home. She’s tired of my bad moods.”

  Ella squeezed his arm again and pulled a face at him.

  Some of the emotional weight lifted off his shoulders and he wanted to grin at her. He restrained himself as he told his father he’d ring once he’d checked the water levels.

  Back at the house, they drank tea to warm up.

  “Do you have scissors or a beard trimmer?” Ella asked. “Ideally both.”

  “Hana would have scissors,” he said. “They’ll be in her craft room.”

  “Is it okay for me to go in there?”

  “Sure.”

  “While I’m gone, put the chair in the light and get a towel to put around your shoulders.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dillon watched her sashay from the kitchen, sexy and alluring even in her baggy sweatpants and an overlarge T-shirt.

  Ella reappeared minutes later, brandishing two pairs of scissors. “If I make a mess, you can shave the lot off.”

  Dillon stared at her. “Are you always this cheerful?”

  “Mostly. I’m a cup-half-full kind of girl. Life is too short for pessimism and gloom. I like to embrace life and shoot for adventure.”

  Not a bad way to live. She’d shown this verve for life, and in turn, helped to lift some of his own despondency.

  “Let’s do this,” he said and planted his butt on the chair she indicated.

  Ella wrapped the towel around his shoulders then took a step back.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You need a haircut too. I have experience in that arena.”

  Something about the quiver of her mouth told him to ask questions. “Are you any good?”

  “My doll’s hair never grew back.” She chuckled. “You should see your expression right now.”

  Yet again, Dillon laughed. “Just the beard, thanks.”

  “Okay.” Her humor slid away, and she cocked her head. “Close your eyes. I can’t concentrate with those cute baby-blues watching me.”

  Obediently, he shut his eyes. Her hands cupped his face, and she wielded the scissors. He relaxed since she’d spoken the truth. If he hated the result, he could shave and start on a new beard.

  She snipped and hummed and fingered his face. Gradually, heat radiated through him, awareness of Ella creating a need. Her fragrance filled his slow inhalations, and his mind drifted to showering and sex. He huffed out a groan.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You standing this close is pushing my mind to sex.”

  “Okay,” she said agreeably, doing more snipping. “It will be much nicer kissing you now. You’re rocking this beard. You’ve turned into a handsome dude. I bet your eyes will pop.”

  “Huh?”

  “Shush. Don’t move. I’m almost finished.” Her hands brushed over his cheeks and chin. “You might need to trim with a razor, but this beard looks good on you.”

  Dillon opened his eyes as she set the scissors on the counter. He removed the towel from around his shoulders and dropped it on the kitchen floor. Without thought, he grabbed Ella by the hips and dragged her onto his knee. She let out a tiny eep of shock but soon relaxed into his embrace. He rubbed his cheek against hers before adjusting the angle and kissing her.

  Her lips were soft and clung to his. Their tongues tangled in mutual pleasure.

  “Does this new beard pass mu
ster?”

  “You’re a handsome dude, Dillon Williams. The women will deliver casseroles by helicopter once they get a glimpse of the new you.”

  “Put it back,” Dillon said. “Those casserole ladies are scary.”

  She smoothed her hand over his chin. “Too late, buster.”

  The whop-whop of the helicopter sounded, coming closer. Dillon frowned, wondering why the pilot would circle his house. He stood, his hands on Ella’s hips until she gained her balance. The helicopter passed overhead and flew toward Palmerston North. Dillon studied the navy-blue bird through the window, unsettled by something in his gut that told him this was unusual. In all his time here with Hana, he’d never spotted one helicopter.

  His neighbor might be organizing the spraying of noxious weeds or using the chopper for another reason. Something innocent. Yet Dillon’s gut said otherwise, and he had no explanation for his instincts. Once Ella left, he promised himself he’d do a little investigation. At the least, it was an opportunity to practice his soldiering skills.

  He turned away from the window. “I’m off to find a mirror in case you’re talking up abysmal shaving skills. Are you ready for that shower?”

  Ella couldn’t believe how fast the day disappeared and how much she’d enjoyed spending time with Dillon. She hadn’t been kidding about his appearance. Her heart did an extra blip each time she glanced at him. Now, she witnessed his expressions, although the man possessed impassive skills she’d never break.

  Dillon didn’t scare her though. She’d glimpsed his marshmallow inside and experienced his kindness, and then there was the lovemaking. She was certain he’d spoiled her for other men. Michael… She sighed. She’d have to tell him she was only interested in being friends. She’d thought there might be more between them, but not now. Not after Dillon.

  “I’m certain we can get you home tomorrow,” Dillon said, returning from his survey of the creek.

  “You probably want peace and quiet.”

  “I’ve enjoyed having you around. What? Are you accusing me of lying?”

  “No, I’m certain integrity is your middle name.”

  Nothing less than the truth. She’d fallen for Dillon and leaving would break her. But he’d never request her to stay. She’d understood he intended to return to his soldier duties. Either way, she’d be alone.

  “We have tonight.” She added a wink even though the casual flirtation broke something inside her. “And I’m sure we’ll meet at least once or twice before you leave.”

  “Count on it,” Dillon said. “I’ll ring Dad once we’re finished for the day. I want to worm the alpacas before it gets dark.”

  “Can I help?”

  “If you want.”

  About four hours later, Dillon bundled her into the shower for their second bathing session of the day.

  His big hands cradled her face and held her still for his dominant kiss. Warm water poured over their heads, and her entire body tingled with sexual awareness. Dillon crowded her against the wall of the shower stall, the cold a sharp slap to her system. But then his big hands caressed her, his cock brushed her belly, and the discomfort faded. He grabbed a bar of soap and washed her with attention to detail. His fingers brushed and stroked, teasing and tantalizing. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, and she craved his hands and mouth at her nipples.

  “More here,” she instructed, lifting his hands to her breasts.

  “I don’t want to get too carried away. The condoms are in the bedroom.”

  “We’ll go there,” she said, urgency grabbing her. Ella tugged from his embrace and rinsed off the soap suds. “No point getting all excited and forgoing instant gratification.”

  After drying rapidly, a chuckling Dillon chased her to the bedroom. They fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs, urgency taking hold of them both. Dillon grabbed a condom and rolled it onto his shaft before planting himself in the center of the bed. With easy power, he lifted her over him, and she splayed her legs to straddle him.

  “Take me,” he said. “I want to enjoy the front view, see your tits bouncing as you take your pleasure.”

  In the grips of impatience, Ella guided his cock to her and sank down with a happy sigh. She rose and fell, finding a rhythm that suited her while falling into Dillon’s pretty gaze. She took mental pictures of his handsome face, a vision to pull out at a later date when she found herself alone.

  Not getting the stimulation she wanted, she added her finger to the mix and increased her pace. Ah, perfect. Her eyes drifted shut as she savored the emotions, the physical bliss frisking her body and mind. All the time, she rubbed her clit, striving for the finish post. One more stroke should do it. She timed her movements perfectly and fell into her orgasm, snatching greedily at every physical sensation.

  “God, you’re beautiful when you come.”

  Dillon flipped their bodies with easy strength and stroked into her with powerful thrusts. She gripped his shoulders and clung. His climax roared from him, his face tense, his cock flexing within her channel. Gradually, his big body relaxed, and he pressed a kiss to her jaw.

  With her eyes closed, she smiled, happy and replete. “You didn’t say if you liked your beard.”

  “You’re hired,” he said with a yawn.

  But only short-term. A bitter-sweet moment.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay. Let’s eat later. Right now, I’m too relaxed to move.”

  The soldier needed to catch up on his sleep. So did she. Ella yawned and allowed him to rearrange their bodies before she drifted off.

  Ella woke abruptly in a dark room. A savage curse sounded right beside her ear, and instinctively, she backed away. Confused, she peered through the darkness, searching for anything. Then memories surged to her mind.

  Dillon. She was staying at Dillon’s place.

  Restless legs shoved at her, and as she tried to avoid another kick, she toppled over the edge of the bed. She struck the floor with a thud, taking the brunt of the weight on her hip. Before she could pick herself up, a fist struck her jaw. Pain reverberated from the contact—short and sharp. She cried out, her shocked scream echoing through the bedroom.

  “Don’t move,” a gritty voice snarled right next to her ear.

  “Dillon?” she croaked. “Dillon, it’s me. Ella. You’re having a bad dream.” At least she hoped he was because that would explain the fist to her face. “Dillon!”

  The hands pinning her to the ground relaxed. Lifted. “Ella?” He sounded confused, a little out of it.

  “Dillon, can you move so I can turn on the light?”

  Crap, it hurt to talk, and she tasted blood. She needed to wake him before he decided she was the enemy and he hit her again.

  6 – A Nightmare Changes Dynamics

  Dillon blinked at the surge of light, his beleaguered mind ticking over the events. An enemy had sneaked into camp while he was sleeping. He’d attacked and Dillon had fought him off. Where the hell was his weapon? He’d never break the cardinal rule and leave his gun out of arm’s reach.

  “Dillon?”

  A feminine voice. Cautious. Soft.

  He tracked the direction, and his eyes widened. Fuck, he’d been dreaming. It hadn’t been real.

  “Dillon? Are you awake?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his hand over his face.

  Ella came closer. Blood dribbled down her chin and her bottom lip was swelling. A bright red spot the size of a fist shone like a beacon and dread sliced through his belly, his chest. His limbs shook, and he couldn’t have picked himself off the floor if he’d tried.

  “Did…” He swallowed hard. “Did I do that?”

  “You didn’t mean to hurt me. You were dreaming. It took me a minute to understand.” She trailed off with a wince.

  “Fuck.” Several other disgusting curses in foreign languages zapped through his brain as he stared at her, appalled. He’d never hit a woman in his life.

  He eased closer, approaching
her in increments. To his relief, she didn’t back away or cower, but he wondered why. He’d bloody hit her. “Can I take a look?” He waited for her to give him the go-ahead.

  “I’m okay.”

  He barely made contact, but she still flinched and guilt slid through him anew. “You’ve got a fat lip and your jaw is swelling. Let me get ice for you to put on that.”

  Dillon strode from his bedroom, calling himself all the names under the sun. This was a first for him. Beating a woman. Making her bleed. He yanked open the freezer compartment of his fridge, stared at the contents and chose a bag of peas. That should do the trick. Dillon wrapped a clean tea towel around the bag and took it to Ella.

  “Hold this on your jaw. That should help reduce the swelling. Let me get a warm cloth for your lip and check the damage.”

  “Dillon, don’t fuss.”

  “I hit you.”

  “You were dreaming. You didn’t punch me on purpose.”

  “I’ll get you pills for the pain. You should take those and once I’ve cleaned your lip, try to go back to sleep.”

  She sent him a searching look before dipping her head in agreement.

  Once he cleaned the blood off her face, he found the cut on her lip wasn’t too bad. He settled Ella in bed then grabbed his jeans.

  “Aren’t you coming back to bed?”

  “Not right now.” He didn’t trust himself. What if he struck her again? He might hospitalize her.

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  He was slipping if she could read his thoughts this easily. Part of him ached to hold her, to tell her he’d never hit her again. His other tougher side told him to harden up. She said she was okay. Believe her and move on.

  “Try to sleep. It’s not long until morning.”

  He wandered out to the kitchen and his belly rumbled. They’d missed dinner. He checked the fridge, spied a dish of macaroni and cheese and set it in the microwave. While he waited for his meal to heat, he paced. Jitters made it impossible for him to sit still. His mind jumped around in tandem and a vision of himself striking Ella replayed over and over in his brain until he wanted to roar out his frustration.