Tempestuous Eden (12 page)

But then life itself had never been so vibrant to Blair.

She gasped as Craig suddenly dropped all that he carried, jerked away her towel, and pelted the remaining steps into the water with her in his arms. Silver-droplets rained around them at impact, and their mutual laughter slashed joyously through the misty light of the crescent moon.

“Damn! It’s freezing!” Blair chuckled, not minding at all the rush of the stream over her flesh.

“How can you say that with my arms around you,” Craig teased, nibbling softly at her earlobe.

“It is difficult,” Blair admitted as the warmth of his breath seared into her system, combatting the chill on her skin. Other words, hovered on her lips, words she couldn’t say. Did she really love him, or was he just a wildfire that came at night, illuminating darkness? A power that could never be captured or held.

Golden eyes glared down into hers, full of tenderness, full of mischief. “Want to see the great ‘discovery?’”

“Of course,” Blair murmured, suspicious of the devilish cast to his eyes.

Her suspicion was well grounded. He released her suddenly and she sank into the stream, devoid of his warmth. Slicing cleanly back to the surface, she found him swimming for the waterfall. His bronze arm, caught in the glow of starlight, beckoned to her. “This way!”

His “discovery” was a natural waterslide, sheared smooth upon the cliff by the countless years of nature sculpting her own play yards with water. Hesitant at first, Blair quickly discovered that the rock was as smooth as glass, and gentle to her skin.

She also discovered Craig to be a whirlwind of tireless energy. They enjoyed the crystal haven of the stream, teased in it, loved in it, until she was breathless, scintillated, and almost exhausted—almost.

She found new reserves of strength when he carried her back to the embankment, the bright teasing light in his eyes gone, replaced by something darkly hungry and primitive.

He made love to her again, no longer treating her like fragile glass, but demanding all that she could give. Ever so slightly rough, he taught her another new world of wonders, taking her with a fierce need that neared a pagan barbarism, amazing her still further with the rapture of eliciting pleasure while receiving, and thus creating that unique, wildly burning magic. She came to know his glistened body as her own, tasting, touching, totally uninhibited in the swirling vortex that captured them both by the stream, lovers as innately a part of nature as the rushing water that cascaded around them, singing a primitive duet to match their passion.

At long last they lay beautifully spent, cooling in the night air, a tangle of arms and legs and torsos in the soft carpet of grass. There were no words between them once the whispers of thirst and need had hushed with the coming of euphoria; they simply accepted the gift of ecstasy with a mutual peace in their souls. Blair vaguely knew that words had to come to lovers, that there would still be a reality of life. But not now; now was a time to hold, to cherish, to luxuriate in the male strength beside her, still radiating warmth and the masculine power that demanded capitulation even as it surrendered itself.

She was exhausted as she had never been before, her spirit as satiated as her body. He had created a heaven she knew she could not replace, and yet she was aware that even such a unique physical relationship—based even on instinctive friendship and respect, as it was—did not equate to undying devotion.

And yet what she had was enough. It could grow, nurtured by the very factors that brought them together. Yet if Craig were the unharnessable and untamable, mysterious cat of the night that she had first suspected, she could still never begrudge him this rare wonder of love.

Her lashes grew heavier and heavier against her cheeks. The soft grass provided a comforting mattress; Craig’s body provided all the warmth she could ask. Within minutes she was sleeping deeply, freed forever from the haunting of her past.

Blair wasn’t sure what awoke her, she had been so thoroughly, soundly asleep. She blinked, slightly disoriented, until she realized she was cold. She gained focus, knowing immediately where she was, but frowning as she stretched languorously for Craig, only to discover that she was alone.

She scrambled to her feet and glanced around the embankment. The light was very dim, almost nonexistent, but she quickly saw that the bundle of his clothing was gone.

He wouldn’t have left her sleeping naked alone on the embankment, would he? No, she was sure of that. He might leave by the light of dawn, but he was not the type of man to leave a woman vulnerable.

Not that she was frightened. She wasn’t far from the compound, and she had learned her way around the wilderness in her time with the crew She was, however, perplexed, and suddenly very cold. It also seemed as if a million eyes might be on her. For the first time during the night, her naked state made her nervous.

She moved quickly for the bundle of her own clothing and hastily began to dress herself, fumbling with hooks, snaps, and zippers. She was halfway through buttoning her blouse when she noticed the flashes of light coming through the foliage.

Her fingers stopped all movement as she realized that some sort of message was being sent. The sporadic bursts of illumination were dots and dashes. Morse code. She wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing. But neither was she great on deciphering the code.

Her eyes riveted to the spot on the grass where the flashlight had haphazardly fallen earlier. It was gone! Her heart began to sink slowly, as if it truly dropped inch by painful inch to her feet.

Craig.

Her body stiffened; all thought of softness and love dissolved into a bitter gall that burned her stomach with the searing acid of betrayal. And just as quickly, she blocked out the agony of betrayal with a shaking rage and the firm determination to decode his message and call his charade.

Messages. He was being answered from some far distant hill. But from where she was, in the valley of the stream, she could make out nothing clearly. She had to find where Craig was.

Two years with the Hunger Crew had also taught her to move through the night with the agility of the natives, and with the light to guide her she stole almost silently through the brush. The trail led uphill to a clearing in the dense brush. Perched on his knee, shooting his flashes of light into the night sky, was Craig.

Blair flattened herself to the ground, trusting in the shelter of a wild banana plant. The flashes began to make sense.

…
NECESSARY THIS WAY? STOP

The night sky went dark again as his words were received. It stayed dark for several moments, as if it were being transferred on to another point.

Then the answer came back, and Blair’s heart now seemed to catch in her throat.

YES … TONIGHT IMPERATIVE … GET HER OUT … STOP

The sky again went dark.

She should have been frightened, but she wasn’t. She was furious and humiliated and hurt, as if her heart had literally been ripped from her body.

God, what a fool! She had given him more of her soul than she had ever deemed possible, divulged secrets to him that she had thought to forever harbor. Given him herself.

Suddenly she began to burn within, thinking of the way she had come to him, teased him, loved him, lain beside him in intimate abandon. Not even an hour ago. And all the while he had been planning this … this … whatever it was. Plot. She had meant nothing to him; she had been as completely deceived as a raving lunatic.

Shocked into immobility, it began to seep through to her that she needed to get away from him. She was the center of some type of plot.
GET HER OUT.
She was a raving lunatic to be sitting so close, a sitting duck. Oh, Lord! Who the hell was he? Someone out for a ransom? Or worse? Someone who knew of her father’s importance?

Quietly, barely daring to breathe, she inched to her knees, to her feet. She would go straight to Dr. Hardy and the others. Together they would confront Mr. Craig Taylor.

A flash of light streaked through the night again straight into her face. She threw an arm instinctively above her eyes to shield them from the sudden flare. The light left her face and became softer, clearly illuminating the space between herself and the yellow-eyed stranger who now watched her.

They stared at each other as countless seconds ticked by in what seemed to be an eternity. There was no tenderness in the leonine eyes now; they were rigidly unfathomable, denoting all those qualities she had once sensed. Power. Steely determination. A grim ruthlessness.

He didn’t move. He didn’t try to invent an explanation. He sighed, and there was a shade of regret and sadness to his voice.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She stood as still as he, her shoulders squared, her head high. She spoke in a grating, contemptuous rasp, aware more than ever of the striking intelligence and unwavering strength in his hawklike, angular features.

“Who are you?”

He shrugged with a brief inclination of broad shoulders. “My name is Craig Taylor. I have only one name, I don’t need an alias, which is more than can be said for you.”

Blair swallowed, but didn’t flinch. She realized now that he knew who her father was.

“You can understand why I don’t use my real surname,” she said coldly. “It keeps me away from creatures like you.”

Did he flinch? She wasn’t sure.

“I really am sorry, Blair. I wish you hadn’t woken up.”

“Why?” she charged, straining to fight hysteria. “You are evidently planning to abduct me.” With acid sarcasm she added, “I’m sure I would have noticed at the time.”

“I didn’t mean it to be this way.”

“Oh? What way could it have been? Were you going to ask me nicely if you could kidnap me?” Her voice was rising shrilly. That was it. She needed to scream. Could anyone hear her this far?

“I would have taken you away trusting me—”

“Trusting you?” The words were a scream. Trust him!

The yellow eyes held hers. Steady, firm, still ruthless, but still holding that sad regret. “Blair, I’m not going to hurt you.”

She started to laugh. Oh, God! If only he had hurt her. If only he could do something to make this betrayal easier.

“Who in the hell are you?” she shrieked. “Who are you working for? What government? Are you a torch-waving fanatic? Or a simple mercenary?”

He took a step toward her. “No, Blair. I—”

“Don’t!” She put up a hand as if it could ward him off. “Don’t come near me, you despicable creature. You bastard.” She clipped off her expletives like chips of ice.

Craig’s forbidding jawline took on a hardened twist. “I’m asking you to trust me, Blair.”

Her answer was quick. “You have to be kidding.”

“This isn’t what you think.”

“Then who the hell are you.”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

She smiled, slowly, bitterly, the action never reaching her eyes. “You and your kind are the dregs of society, and you’re asking me to trust you?”

Something snapped inside Craig, an explosive fury at everyone involved, including himself. He inwardly railed at the old man for having gotten him into this fiasco, himself for having broken the first rule and become personally involved, and her for her blatant condemnation. Christ, she wasn’t giving him an inch.
Princess.
He had to start thinking of her as that spoiled little bitch who had created this mess in the first place, a do-gooder socialite who needed a good kick in the—

Who was labeling him everything she could think of in her certainly expansive vocabulary.

She was speaking, her voice full of loathing, but he blocked out the words. She thought he was some kind of terrorist.

Damn it! Let her think it! After all they had shared, she couldn’t offer him an iota of trust.

He leaped forward, the lion pouncing, his fingers digging into her shoulders. “Stop it!” He shook her, quelling her to silence, but drawing no fear. “You can stop right now, Mrs. Teile. You’re right, madam, I’m the goddamned dregs of society, but you’re coming with me, and you’re stuck with me.”

“The hell I am!” Blair hissed, wondering immediately after if she was a complete fool. He towered over her, his eyes impaled her, biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt and his grip an iron vise. And God, even now, even when she knew she was used, her blood began to race at the nearness of him. No! She tilted back her head and gathered breath for a scream.

“Don’t!”
His word ripped the air. “You little idiot, I don’t want to hurt you!”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She was never really sure what happened; his knuckles connected with her jaw, but she felt no pain. All she had was a memory of his voice, strangely tender again.

“I’m sorry, Blair. God, babe, you really don’t know how sorry.”

The entire world was equally as strange as she slipped into a blackness ridiculously laced with tranquility.

I
N THE SMALL CLEARING,
Craig Taylor caught the woman’s slender body as it crumpled in his arms. He laid her gently in the grass, then tenderly touched the spot where his fist had connected with flesh.

A breeze suddenly sprung up; the foliage around them rustled and whispered in the darkness. The sound of the crickets could be heard—in the distance if one listened, the pleasant trickle that was the sound of the stream.

Anger sliced through Craig with a jolt. Sometimes he was absolutely sure that the high brass sat on their brains. They had better have a damn good explanation for this one, he thought grimly. He had been right in the first place. Bombs in the Middle East would have been easier than the task of dragging an unwilling prisoner through the jungle.

Your own fault, old boy,
he chastised himself harshly. Rule number one: Never fall in love with gorgeous, brave women about to be abducted and smuggled out of the country. Never, never, never make love to them. Never become the victim of the victim even when she is an enchantress.

Tense with anger, furious with himself, he jerked to his feet.

There was another flash of heat lightning disturbing the lush environ of the jungle—a final communication from Craig.