The Bride's Rescuer. Charlotte Douglas

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      “Stay out of the way!”

      She ignored his warning and dug at the sand he had heaped upon the debris, but her efforts were useless against the power of the man. For every handful of sand she uncovered, he shoveled piles more onto the fire and her as well.

      When he’d smothered every spark, he dropped the board and dusted his hands. Water glistened in his tawny hair, and anger gleamed in his eyes.

      When he turned to her, he did not meet her gaze, but cast his glance at a point behind her. “You must impress this fact into that very pretty head of yours, Miss Stevens. You will leave this island when I say, and not before.”

      He snatched the remaining matches from her clenched fist. She grabbed instinctively to retrieve them, but his dark expression stopped her. He turned and tramped back toward the house, leaving her shivering with disappointment and the first rumblings of fear as she stood on the beach with her nightgown billowing in the wind.

      She was no longer a guest on Solitaire, but a prisoner.