Captive Love

By Therese A. Kraemer

Beaten and near death , Elise is found by a half breed mountain man who nurses her back to health. She has no memories of what happened except for the nightmares.
Just a pawn in the game she has to risk everything to maintain her sanity. Kidnapped after she becomes pregant her luck goes from bad to worse but she will do anything to protect her unborn child.

Lightly erotic and filled with twists and turns.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spangaloo Publishing
• Release date: Jul 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370240463

Therese A. Kraemer

Because I am dyslexic, I find writing a challenge, but my love of writing has inspired me to write more than sixty children’s stories, over two hundred poems and thirty-seven Romance Novels. I have also illustrated two story books used by primary teachers and students as a part of a vocal hygiene program at University of Arizona’s Department of Speech and Hearing Sciences. My credits also include four stories published by McFadden Publishing Co. in NYC. I wrote, illustrated and published two books of poetry used as fund-raisers by the Leukemia and Multiple Sclerosis organizations. I wrote illustrated and published in one book, forty-two children’s stories. I had an exhibition at the King Center for the Performing Arts in Melbourne, Fl of my pen and ink drawings of animals. Recently, I have had three E-Book Romance Novels and a book of short stories published on the Spangaloo.Com website and another on the Smashwords.Com website. I make my home in Melbourne, Florida where I continue to write and illustrate

Book preview

CAPTIVE LOVE

by

Thérèse A. Kraemer

Copyright Therese A. Kraemer 2016

Spangaloo Publishing at Smashwords

Spangaloo Edition

http://spangaloo.com

Standard Copyright eBooks are strictly protected works. You must not perform any actions, including copying, printing and distribution without the author’s written or printed consent (the author may have already granted certain terms in a statement within a book.) Some of our eBooks are cleared for personal printing if this option has been enabled, The unauthorized sale of Copyright works in any form is illegal.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, incidents, and places are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, people, or events is purely coincidental

Cover Design: James Bryron Love

Ebook Formatting : Alan Thriete

Editors Note:

Many characters in this book have accents and or different speech patterns. The author has attempted to illustrate this phonically. These are not spelling errors.

Contents

PROLOGUE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

EPILOGUE

About the Author

Other Books

PROLOGUE

Who turned my world upside down, who put the sky on to the ground?

Who put the sea into the air, who put the mountains way down there?

Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia

She ran. There was nothing to do but run.

She ran like the wind. Why? She didn’t know. She didn’t even know the evil that chased her. Her lungs burned like fire...ready to burst. Her hands face and feet pained from cuts and bruises. She ran and prayed. And ran, though her vision was blurred, her mind numb with confusion, she continued her flight. Tears stung the abrasions on her cheeks; pain racked her exhausted body as the trees before her undulated, threatening to turn her world upside down.

Did that limb reach out to try and strangle her? Why were the roots and vines reaching up to tangle her legs and ankles? Her stomach seemed to have constricted as she tried to scream but no sounds came from her parched throat. She twisted and turned, trying to free her body from all that was grabbing out to imprison her. After a while she was so empty inside that she was hardly aware of the pain. Fear took over, clamping like a grapple on her innards but she didn’t know why. She only knew that she had to flee. Her heart began to gallop, forcing blood to thunder through her veins. Her foggy brain ordered her to keep going; danger would overcome her if she stopped. Her only thought was strictly upon escape and self-preservation. Her ears rang with an eerie howling sound. Wolves? Or her imagination?

Finally, her strength gone, she succumbed to the strangling limbs and branches and collapsed into the waiting arms of the cold ground.

Sanctuary!

Chapter One

New flowers will soon smile my way, time will be around a little longer each day.

Knowing the snow will fall into rain and winter’s loss will be summer’s gain.

It was spring in Virginia. Mother Earth had impatiently thrown off the cold blanket of snow and opened up her windows, letting in warmth, freshness and the smell of rebirth. Birds chirped, flowers bloomed and the earth readied itself for all new things and creatures that would soon cover the lands.

Matt Runner was aware of all this when he yawned and scratched his thick auburn beard. He didn’t care that all around him grew new life. It was just another day, like all the others that had come and gone during the last two years. Grumbling, he pivoted his feet onto the dirty wooden floor and yawned again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He slept well last night, his moonshine saw to that, swallowing just enough to grant him a proper night’s sleep but not enough to give him a hangover. He had learned that lesson the hard way, too many times.

His broad shoulders shrugged as he raised his large nude body off the straw mattress and walked lazily over to his mirror. Like yesterday, and many yesterdays before, Matt Runner toyed with the idea of shaving, but again, he just mumbled, The hell with it, and grabbed a towel to go and swim in the nearby lake. He wasn’t much of a housekeeper but he did believe in bathing regularly. Since he was a hermit, with nary a neighbor around for miles, he never bothered to dress, so he strolled in all his glory, whistling one of his own made-up tunes, to nature’s bathtub. Halfway to his destination, he caught a glimpse of something white fluttering in the breeze. Not overly concerned, thinking it was just a rag, he went on his way. He would’ve continued, since he wasn’t a man of curious nature, but a soft moan made him turn his attention fully in the direction of the sound. Perplexed, his thick brows knitted. Could it be an injured animal? He didn’t like people and isolated himself in the mountains, but he did have a love for creatures. In fact, he had a few animals that visited him on frequent occasions.

His heart quickened, and hating to see any four-legged creature hurt, he dropped the towel. Runner walked quietly, something he could do surprisingly well considering he was over six feet tall and very muscular. But being half Apache and growing up in an Indian village, he was well trained until that dreaded day when soldiers robbed his happiness, killing his Irish mother, Apache father and most of his people.

Now, twenty-six, he was a recluse, hating all white men. He had tried running with the young bucks, fighting the soldiers, but killing, even whites, made him uneasy. His Apache father taught him the beliefs of his race but he never protested when his wife, Katherine, insisted her son keep the Christian faith. Runner didn’t belong with the renegades and unable to live with the white man, he settled on this way of life at twenty-four. He was happy. He was content.

But on that day his life as he knew it was about to change. He was about to discover that he cannot hide from reality.

Upon reaching the mass of cloth that was tangled in the bushes, he was startled to discover a pair of shapely legs sticking out from under the twisted fabric. The material was dirty and torn and it barely covered the torso. Just then something rare happened, something that hadn’t happened or was expected to ever happen again. His organ reacted from the sight of a near-naked woman; and a white woman, no less. Swearing for a moment, he chose to ignore it, telling himself it was only normal under the circumstances. He hadn’t had a woman in two years, but being Apache, he was trained to accept celibacy.

The woman was on her back and he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep his gaze from slowly scanning her partly-clad body. The bloody material barely covered her womanhood, and small, shapely breasts that were moving slightly with her shallow breathing. Black hair covered her swollen face in a tangled mess. Awestruck, he stared as insects buzzed annoyingly around him. God almighty! he gasped. Where did you come from? And How? His cabin was a mile from the base of the mountain and the nearest populated community was miles from here. He was being foolish asking questions no one would answer, at least not now. Swatting at an annoying bug, Runner stood rooted for what seemed a long puzzling moment. He cleared his throat and knelt beside the lifeless form and slowly brushed away the thick hair from the face, noting its silkiness.

Unconsciously, he played with a few strands, winding it around his fingers as his eyes looked upon the face and he shuddered seeing the cuts and bruises displayed. He couldn’t tell if she was pretty or not. Her lips were swollen and crusted with blood, her cheeks were black and blue and her eyes were waxed shut.

Runner touched her forehead for fever; she was cold, too cold. His touch brought a shudder to her small, but well-shaped body, making his heart ache at the thought of what someone had done to her. He guessed she was about five feet, maybe a little more, but every inch a woman. Damn! He couldn’t believe he was having such thoughts, when the poor little thing was near death. Did she open her eyes briefly? If she did, he had but a moment to see quicksilver irises through swollen slits.

Carefully, Runner lifted her; she groaned but remained unconscious. She was a feather in his strong arms. He wasn’t sure but he could have sworn she stiffened slightly when he cradled her against his chest. Thinking he had to forgo his bath for now, Runner carried her to his cabin, placing her gently on his unkempt bed. He stared, wondering what to do with her but he didn’t meditate too long, knowing he had to tend to her cuts. Quickly he dressed in his buckskins, grabbed the bucket and fetched some cool water. His Indian upbringing came in handy for he had salves and herbs for just such an emergency. Many times he needed to mend himself from careless cuts and falls. With shaking hands, Runner bathed her battered face, washing away dried blood, wishing he could wash away the pain so evident on her pale face. He then applied the salve. It smelled awful but her face would heal faster and no telltale scars should remain. He proceeded to wash her scratched arms and legs, noting how creamy soft her flesh was. Although he touched her tenderly, the feel of her left goose bumps over his arms, making the air catch in his lungs.

The reaction took hold before he could squelch it. After a few deep breaths, he carefully cleaned the deep cuts on the soles of her small feet. How she ever walked on them puzzled him. It surprised him how sorry he was, her being white, but then, she did remind him of someone who was also petite. For some strange reason he wanted to kill the bastard who did this to her.

After applying salve, her feet were wrapped. He stood immobile, his heart beating wildly knowing he had to undress her, making sure she had no broken ribs. It was a simple task to disrobe the unconscious form, the thin material ripped easily away with one tug. Without his permission, his breath sucked inwardly at her beauty and he stared a long time not recalling ever seeing such loveliness. She stirred a cauldron of emotions he wanted to ignore and he did his damnedest to control his trembling hands. He skimmed his fingers around her rib cage, wishing his manhood would stop getting aroused so easily.

Damn! Twice in one morning, he scolded himself.

No bruises were visible and he believed her ribs were all right. At least the son-of-a-bitch didn’t beat her on her torso. It was bad enough to mar her face but it would have been a crime to damage a body like that. He mused, if her features were half as perfect as her breasts, small waist and womanly hips, she could be a pretty little thing. He was hoping to find out. Now, why in hell did he think that? He didn’t want company, especially a woman. As soon as she was well enough, he’d take her into town. She had to belong to someone nearby; somebody that beat the crap out of her, reminded his conscience.

Yeah, but she wasn’t his problem.

Like hell! His baser side mocked him.

Something inside of her was awakening and fought against rising consciousness, but eventually, she opened her swollen eyes as best she could. She was completely and utterly disorientation as light pained them. Involuntarily, her reflexes quickly closed them again. Confusion left her senses in a thick fog. Think, she ordered herself. Think. But she couldn’t. Her mind was blank, except for little bits and pieces that lay jumbled in her brain. But somehow she remembered fleeing into the dark night; blackness engulfed blackness for miles. She could recall running into the woods but couldn’t recall why. She remembered a soft touch to her brow and how she tried to open her aching eyes but the image of a huge giant stood before her. It was only a quick glance, but she believed her mind might have been playing tricks. She could swear that a large naked man was hovering over her; must have been the pain, she reasoned.

A warm feeling embraced her face and she wondered if she was still lying on the ground and the sun had come out to comfort her. It wasn’t hard beneath her, so she couldn’t be on the earth, but what she was lying on wasn’t that soft either. Her one hand patted around for a clue and she guessed she was on a bed. Her eyes remained shut tight as her hand roamed under the blanket; her hand stilled on her bare breasts.

Pain or not, her eyes flew open.

Her lids blinked rapidly as she tried to adjust to the daylight; her eyes burned in the brightness but she continued to do her best to focus on her surroundings. The room was small. Her gaze drifted to the dirty pots and pans that filled a sink then to a black, wood-burning stove that stood against the far wall. A cluttered table and two chairs took up the middle of the room and she was on a bed against another wall.

It was quiet. She was alone; so many questions boggled her mind as she peeked under the blanket. Her heart gave a little leap making her breaths fluttered in and out in shallow gasps. She was naked as a jay bird, but her feet were bound. She then noticed a terrible smell and saw gooey looking stuff smeared on her arms and hands. Ugh! Licking her cracked lips made her gag, something tasted vile; that smelly stuff was on her mouth making bile rise in her throat. She leaned over the bed and spat on the dirty floor.

Yuck! that stuff is worse than the pain." Her voice was a mere thread.

I see you’re finally awake.

A husky tone of voice caught her attention and she became instantly frightened.

Chapter Two

Is dreams really true life in disguise?

And life only dreams telling us secret lies?

Stunned and somewhat embarrassed for being caught spitting, unladylike, her head jerked up before realizing the blanket had fallen away. Her mistake was quickly noted when the stranger grinned wolfishly at her. She gasped and swiftly returned the cover to its rightful place.

The stranger shrugged. No need being shy, you’re not hiding anything I haven’t already seen.

What! Mortified, the shriek came out as a little croak and her head fell back against the pillow. You…y-you undressed me? It was also a statement. Warm heat filled her aching head and her lips hurt when she spoke but she ignored the agony. Being undressed by a stranger seemed to pain her worse than the abrasions. Again the man’s beefy shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug.

Someone had to tend to your injuries.

He turned and she knew he was pretending to be busy, being considerate of her uneasiness and giving her time to adjust to her predicament. She grunted and he gave her another shrug. This was a very mortifying predicament, she thought but couldn’t understand why she experienced such an emotion since she had no idea who she was; or for that fact, who was he? Maybe this stranger was her husband but her gut told her that he wasn’t.

No wife? She croaked to the man who seemed to be more interested in his dirty pots and pans than her. She sighed wretchedly. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now, except be grateful he cared for her and let that be her only concern. But it wasn’t. The ceiling held her attention for a few seconds as she thought over her plight. Not only didn’t she know where she was but she had no idea her name. Fear coupled with confusion made her groan out loud.

Are you in more pain? he asked, going to her side.

She swallowed hard. No… no, she said abruptly trying to dismiss his concern and trying to regain some dignity and composure. I just don’t know who I am and how I got here and, her voice trailed into silence.

What happened to her? Why was she in pain and why couldn’t she remember anything?

He pulled a chair over to