Sara's Surprise (16 page)

Sara squirmed inwardly. "He, uhmmm, he was a complex man," she said haltingly, weighing each word. "Sadistic, self-centered, arrogantand yet he was capable of a twisted sort of love. He was obsessed with Dinah. I'm sure you read that in Jeopard's report."

"Yeah. Apparently his only regret was that he couldn't make her return the feeling. She was lucky that he didn't force her into a relationship. It was ironic that he had a sort of honor where she was concerned."

"She was lucky," Sara agreed, swallowing a knot of emotion in her throat. She desperately wanted to say, I wasn't .

Kyle stared into the fire, his mouth set in a harsh line. "I have to admit something that may sound cynical to you. I'm glad that he was obsessed with Dinah. I know that he frightened her, and of course I'm glad that he didn't do anything worse, but better her than you."

"You're not cynical. Just honest."

Sara shuddered with a rising tide of anguish that did nothing to make her want Kyle less. She needed to be reborn in his arms, to have his tenderness and his body make her forget the last time she'd been touched by a man. It hurt that she couldn't tell Kyle everything about her and Valdivia. Everything was a long, humiliating story that had begun years before the kidnapping, before she'd learned exactly what kind of man Diego de Valdivia was.

"Time for your bath," she said abruptly, knowing that she couldn't sit any longer and act casual.

"Do I get a rubber duck for the tub?" Kyle asked, amused and startled. "Will you wash behind my ears?"

Sara forced a laugh as she went to pick Noelle up. "I was referring to your friend here. But you're welcome to be my assistant. Just prepare to be splashed."

He rose and came over to them, frowning a little. "James Bond was never confronted by domestic life. I'll tell you what. Let's all go take bathsin different bathrooms."

"All right. Would you like to rendezvous in the nursery in thirty minutes?"

He drew himself up and gave her a playful salute. "Mission accepted."

Kyle found her in the nursery tucking a pink blanket around Noelle, who lay in the crib with one small arm around a toy bear. "Hi," she whispered, her eyes glancing briefly over the burgundy robe that hung untied over his white T-shirt and burgundy jogging pants. "You're color coordinated," she noted, and turned her attention back to Noelle.

"Sophistication is my middle name." He sighed. "It isn't easy being this debonair."

He stood at the foot of the crib, his eyes taking in Sara's soft blue robe and the white sweatshirt that showed above the loosely belted waist. Her hair was damp and tousled from the bath; she smelled of lemon soap. Her face had a fresh-scrubbed blush, and the elfin features, set in a gentle, slightly pensive expression, were heart-stopping.

His body pulsed with the sight and scent of her, and his reaction caused him to close and tie his robe. Cotton Jogging pants didn't hide a man's thoughts very well. When Sara glanced at his actions, he muttered, "It's cool in here."

She checked a thermostat on the wall. "Seventy-three degrees."

"In Florida we call that cool."

Even as every impulse strained with desire for her, his more rational observations told him the truth. She wasn't dressed to seduce or be seduced; she was dressed to be friendly, comfortable, and unappealing. She failed miserably at being unappealing. He glanced down at her feet. She was wearing the silly slippers with tiger faces on them. He had to give her credit. Without speaking a word, she was kindly telling him no.

Today he'd begun to think that a future was opening up for them. Maybe it would. in time. But not tonight. He realized that he was stroking one finger across a scar on the opposite hand. The scars were always there, always taunting.

"Kyle?" He pulled himself from his painful reverie as Sara straightened, gazing at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Sure." He gestured jauntily at the room. "I'm just not accustomed to so much pink."

"You know, sometimes you get a look in your eyes that reminds me of your brother. As if everything just froze over. It's deadly cold."

He smiled sardonically. "I use it to frighten small animals and little old ladles."

"Cal," Noelle's sleepy voice called. She made a smacking sound.

"I can tell that it works," Sara said, smiling. She stepped aside. "You've terrified this baby bunny, as you can see."

He sighed with pleasure as he moved around the crib. Noelle held up the hand that wasn't clutching her toy. A giggle ended in another comical pursing other lips. He bent down and kissed her on the tip of the nose. She returned the favor, then yawned.

"I'm insulted," he quipped.

Daisy stretched out on her dog pillow under the crib. Sara turned the lights off, leaving only a night-light that cast a warm yellow glow. Kyle stepped from the room as she kissed her daughter good night, murmuring soft words that seemed to deserve privacy. He would have given anything to believe that someday he might be included in the love between them.

She left the door open and walked into a shadowed hallway where modem carpeting and light fixtures contrasted with stone walls and medieval decor. A narrow hallway led off itthe secret passage to her bedroom, he knew now. Another led to the lab and the staircase that went into the greenhouse below.

She pointed toward that hallway. "Come with me." Silently he followed her to the wide stone stairway. The stones were cold on his bare feet as he descended behind Sara. She opened a steel security door. "I want to get something from the greenhouse. I thought you'd like to look around."

He followed her into a world of great warmth and ripe, earthy scents that made him remember the hot aroma of a Florida marsh. The cavern was a junglean organized jungle, with charts and tables and clinical-looking cubicles whose translucent walls seemed to glow from the lights within. Parrots fluttered across the ceiling; insects hummed.

"Eden underground," Kyle said, awed. "What kind of plants are you growing here?"

"Rare onesat least, rare in terms of our knowledge of them. They're from the rain forest. No one has studied them before. There are still hundreds of plant species waiting to be discoveredif we don't destroy the forest first. The other problem is that the Indian tribes who know how to use these plants are all dying out or giving up their traditions. We're losing the last generation of medicine men who can tell us what miracles these plants might produce."

"Miracles?"

"Medicine. Like the liniment I gave you for your back. Like cures for everything from cancer to the common cold." She paused, looking hesitant, then added softly, "And something that I want to try on you tonight. If you don't mind."

He put his hands on his hips and arched a brow in mild defiance. "Do I look like a guinea pig?"

She grinned. "We'll discuss your species orientation later. Look, what I have in mind won't hurt you, I'm certain. I can't promise that it will produce any dramatic results, but it would be interesting to experiment with. I've tried it on myself, so I know that it's safe."

"Okay, I'm fearlessor at least too dumb to say no. What is it?"

She pushed up the sleeve of her robe and pointed to a small white scar on her forearm. "I got this twenty years ago when I played 'Two Musketeers' with my brother, using a couple of swords from my grandfather's collection. This scar used to be much more noticeable."

Kyle grabbed her arm and studied the innocuous white line intensely. "What did you put on it?"

"Can you stand to smell like an orchid?"

"I can stand to smell like a swamp if it makes my scars look better."

She laughed. "Good. It won't change them overnight, and it won't make them go away. But it may fade them, especially the smaller ones." She took Kyle's hand and led him through the greenhouse to one of the glowing cubicles. Inside were racks of brilliantly colored orchids. smaller and more fragile than any American variety he'd ever seen. The flowers had the delicate beauty of butterfly wings.

She plucked the blooms from several plants. "Now we go up to the kitchen and make a facial with these and a little milk." She smiled at him pucklshly. "I knew I'd find a reason to use my blender someday."

Upstairs she turned the orchid blooms into flecks of bright color in a milky froth. Carrying a hand towel, she nodded toward the great room, where the fire still burned high enough to provide light.

"The easiest way to do this would be for you to stretch out on the rug. Take off your robe. I'll do your face and arms."

Any worries Kyle had about the effect of her touch were momentarily forgotten in his intrigue over the orchids. He removed the robe, stretched out with his head on a big throw pillow and, just to be on the careful side, jumbled the robe over his belly and thighs.

She sat down beside him, holding the blender. "Shut your eyes."

He did as she asked, but couldn't resist warning, "If this potion turns me into a dandelion, I'm going to sue you. Doc."

"But you'll have great petals." Chuckling, she began to spread the cool mixture on his face.

Kyle flinched inwardly at the feel of her fingertips exploring his scars, but his slight discomfort couldn't destroy other, more compelling responses. Within a minute he was very glad that he'd covered himself with the robe.

"I'm trying to massage the liquid into the scar tissue," she explained softly as her fingers stroked the ugly ridge across his nose.

"Other than myself and my plastic surgeon, you're the first person who's touched my face."

Her voice dropped, becoming husky. "That's too bad. It's such a nice face."

"No compliments, all right?" he said. "I don't believe them, and I don't expect them."

After a second she agreed wearily, "No compliments." Her fingers moved to one of his arms. She rubbed the liquid into it from elbow to hand. Then, as if the small scar on his palm required an inordinate amount of attention, she took her time stroking it.

Kyle shifted his legs. feeling the caress in areas that had little to do with his palm. She performed the same magic on the other hand, and he used all his concentration to keep from moving in an even more noticeable way.

"It's too damned warm in front of this fire," he grumbled, breathing faster. "Floor's hard." The floor wasn't the only thing that fit that description, he thought. He arched his back a little and drew his knees up.

"Be still," she cautioned. "This stuff has to dry for a minute or two. Then you can move. In the meantime" she tugged his T-shirt up to his nipples"I'll use the rest of the mixture."

Kyle could barely keep from groaning as her fingers spread over his chest and stomach, massaging the liquid into the scars there. One scar ran across his right nipple, and when her fingertip slid over the sensitive nub, Kyle bit the inside of his lip to stifle a growl of encouragement.

Her fingers glided along a ragged scar at the center of his chest, tracing without inhibition a path that he knew so well, had studied with loathing so many times. The scar bore an uncanny resemblance to a V; it looked as if Valdlvia's dogs had left his personal brand near Kyle's heart.

Sara's touch made his skin tingle as if a grid of hilgh-voltage wires lay just under the surface. No other woman's touch had ever had such an incredible effect, bringing the heat of desire and emotion to the surface untill his control was weakened with each stroke of her fingers.

Because his skin had become a supersensitive canvas for her magical art, the warm, foreign drop of water that fell on his stomach was an abrupt intrusion. Kyle opened his eyes quickly and looked at her. She was crylng as she looked at his torso. One of her tears had fallen on him. Pity . He died a little as embarrassment crawled through him. "Stop it."

Her startled gaze flew to his, and her lips parted on a soft murmur of apology. "You don't understand," she whispered.

"No tears. No damned tears."

She swallowed harshly and scrubbed her cheeks with the back of one hand. hurrying to comply. But she shook her head in rebuke. "Why won't you let me feel sorry for you? It's only human for me to cry when I think of what you went through. I know what happened to you after that day in the courtyard. I know that you were taken to another hacienda and treated like some sort of prisoner of war."

He cursed viciously. "Who told you about that?"

"Jeopard. When we were all at the hospital, going through thewhat did your people call it? The debriefing. You wouldn't tell me anything , remember?"

"I didn't think you wanted to hear the details. I didn't think you could take it. There was something haunted about your eyes. Maybe you don't remember as well as I do. You avoided me most of the time at the hospital. Then you left without even telling me good-bye."

She looked at him sadly. "How could I face you after being with Noelle's father?"

He groaned softly, a sound of regret and understanding. "I wouldn't have tried to make you feel guilty for that. You and I met only one time. When you were rescued you still didn't know that I had survived. I was no more than a dead stranger in your memory."

"A dead stranger?" She stared at him in disbelief. "I never thought of you that way!" Her shoulders slumped. "When I found out that you were alive but badly hurt, I assumed that you wouldn't want anything to do with me. After all, if you hadn't been assigned to find me" She looked at him with the pain of memories in her eyes. "But after I saw you at the hospital, I had to know everything that had happened to you after that day in the courtyard. So I asked Jeopard."