Captive of Fate (6 page)

She raised her hand, making a small gesture of irritation. “Nothing. Everything,” she confessed.

“Look at me,” he commanded. He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Why are you behaving like this?”

She felt the hotness of tears gathering in her eyes. How could she tell him that she had never been kissed like that before? That Paul’s kisses were drab in comparison? How could she, a twenty-nine-year-old woman, have been unaware of so much of life? Of feeling? A pang of regret went through her, and she lowered her lashes against her cheekbones. “Y-you frighten me, Matt,” she whispered.

She felt his hands sliding down over her shoulders, holding her arms. “In what way, Babe?”

Oh, damn, she was going to cry! She pulled a hand free, dashing away the telltale dampness. Paul hated her tears, and he was a civilian. A military man would be sure to think them a sign of weakness.

“Alanna,” he coaxed, “why are you scared? Tell me.”

She looked up, the tears streaming unchecked now down her pale cheeks, the anguish she was feeling very evident in her green eyes. “I thought I knew who I was,” she mumbled, “and—and, I don’t. I mean, you seem to bring out a whole other side of me. Someone, something that was lost.”

He gave her a gentle shake. “No, Babe, not lost, just hidden inside. Listen to me, Alanna. Your aunt and uncle started the process by giving you no outlet for your emotions, and then Paul reinforced your fear of expressing yourself. But don’t be frightened.” His words were spoken with a hushed urgency. “You’re a giving, loving woman with so much warmth and sensitivity. Let your emotions surface and remain a part of you.”

She choked back a sob. “You’re a stranger I met two days ago. How can you be right? Paul never made me feel like this. My aunt, my uncle…why now?” she whispered hoarsely. “And why you? Oh, God, this is such a mess.” She freed herself of his grip, stumbling blindly back toward the tree to pick up the briefcase. Her heart ached with renewed anguish and pain. She touched her breast in reaction, doggedly walking along the trail, head bowed, bitter tears rolling down her face.

Her mind assailed her with facts and logical explanations. But the pain was real and so was the excitement coursing through her body. If Matt Breckenridge could cause this much emotion to surface in two short days, what would happen if she stayed around him longer? Suddenly, without reason, Alanna wanted to escape. He brought back ugly, half-forgotten memories and old hurts. She remembered times she had hidden in the bedroom closet as a child, sobbing her heart out for her unknown parents; and times when she had gone for long walks outside Paul’s Georgetown apartment, hiding her tears from everyone until she could find an empty street devoid of staring eyes where the pent-up flood of emotion could be expressed.

They walked the last mile in gloomy silence. Matt trailed behind her, saying nothing, allowing her to pick her own pace. They arrived at the village near five o’clock in the afternoon, and the fog was again thickening like a wall of cotton around them. Alanna slowed as they neared the center of the village. The ruin and destruction were complete: homes had been torn apart like so many houses made of cards. Police and civilians covered with mud, their faces slack with exhaustion, moved among the rubble with shovels and pickaxes. Stretchers with bodies covered in plastic lay near the small medical facility housed beneath a large tent. Alanna looked away, unable to stand the sight of it. Matt took her arm, pulling her close.

“Look,” he murmured, “you’ve been through enough today. I had hoped the fog would lift so that after you got your supply count, we could fly back to base. There’s nothing up here, Alanna. No protection, no hut to sleep in, and no food.”

The words sank into her exhausted mind. His fingers felt like a brand against her skin, and she longed to pull away, but she was too tired. She needed the strength that exuded from him. Wearily, she nodded. “What can we do?”

He pursed his mouth, looking around. “Let me take you over to our supply area to get your count. While you’re doing that, I’m going to let Captain Jackson know I’m up here and try to smooth out any problems that have developed since we left base. I’ll be back to get you later.”

M
att found her working between two walls of crates that were sheltered beneath a canvas covering. The glare of the flashlight hurt her eyes, and she turned her head away.

“It’s quitting time,” he noted, halting close to where she sat hunched over.

Alanna wearily reached out, using a crate to steady her as she stood. Matt’s hand fitted firmly beneath her arm, helping her up. His touch sent a tingling sensation up her arm, and she pulled away. The humidity and fog had curled her hair so that long tendrils framed her face, softening the lines of tension that had accumulated there during the day.

“Quitting time means I can go home,” she responded, her voice sounding a million miles away even to her.

Matt offered her a slight smile, his fingers closing around her upper arm as he led her from beneath the covering. “That’s usually a logical assumption.”

Alanna wanted to escape his presence, and at the same time, she yearned simply to rest against his lean, seemingly tireless body and collapse. To be in his arms. To be held by him. Yes, he would do that for her if she asked. At the thought a half-formed smile touched her lips. Already she had come to expect a unique kind of tenderness from him that she would never have expected in a man. Much less a Marine. But she couldn’t allow that to occur. If it did, it would dredge up more unwanted emotions. As she worked, she had mulled over her response to Matt Breckenridge. It was nothing short of a miracle…but one that she could never allow to unfold and blossom within the warmth of his compassion or understanding. To do so would be to rock her carefully balanced world and to place her job in jeopardy. He represented the emotional freedom she longed for. Yet, at the same time, he was a threat to her sense of security. He was dangerous.

Alanna silently marveled at the changing pressure of his fingers against her arm as he guided her through the foggy darkness toward some unknown destination. The ground was a rutted, muddy quagmire from the recent rain. Matt seemed to have the eyes of a jungle jaguar as he continued out of the village, leaving the weeping sound of women and children in the distance.

“Where are we going?” she asked dully, not really caring because of utter exhaustion.

“Home,” he murmured. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?” he mused softly, almost to himself.

Alanna lifted her chin, trying to fathom the expression on his darkened features. There had been a momentary huskiness in his voice, almost a wistful note. “I thought you said we couldn’t get off the mountain.”

“We can’t.” He slowed, flashing the beam of light in front of them to reveal a small tent. “This is ‘home’ for tonight. Come on, get those ruined shoes off your feet and take off the wet clothes you’re wearing. I’ve got some dry utilities and an extra pair of socks and boots you can wear.”

A gasp came from her lips as she turned, facing him. “I can’t sleep here!”

Matt grinned, cocking his head to one side and studying her with interest. “Sure you can.”

“But…” she sputtered. “I mean—it’s too small for two people!”

He walked to the tent, throwing up the small flap. “While you’re arguing the ethics of our situation, how about changing clothes? You’re shivering. Come on,” he coaxed.

Alanna remained frozen to the spot, her eyes wide. She simply couldn’t sleep that close to him! The poignant memory of his kiss soared through her like a white-hot flame beckoning her to give in. Another equally panicky feeling replaced it. “Don’t you have two tents?” she asked hoarsely.

Matt pulled out several utensils and cleared a small space for a fire. He squatted down, pushing the cap back off his head. Dark strands of hair dipped across his forehead as he concentrated his attention on the task of getting them some hot food. “Lady, you’re lucky I have one tent. Are you going to stand there all night shivering, or do I have to drag you in there and undress you?”

Her heart leaped once at the velvet threat in his voice. Alanna had dealt with him long enough to know he meant it. Hastily she gathered up the briefcase and sloshed through the mud toward the tent. “I’ll do it,” she replied in a small voice.

He nodded. “Now you’re being reasonable. By the time you’re changed, we ought to have a meal.”

*

Alanna watched him warily across the campfire as she dug hungrily into the food he had prepared. A light rain began to fall just as they finished. She dejectedly scratched the idea of sleeping outside and letting him have the tent. Her nerves fairly screamed with tension at the thought of being so close to him in such confining quarters.

“I’ll clean up, Alanna. You take the sleeping bag on the right. I’d suggest you strip down to a shirt and socks for the night.”

“What?”

Matt looked up, a wry smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think you’ll sleep comfortably in combat boots. Do you?”

She had the good grace to blush, scrambling awkwardly to her feet. The olive drab shirt and trousers were many sizes too large, and she looked like a lost waif within them. Clenching her hands at her sides, she had enough courage to blurt out, “Does our sleeping arrangement still stand?”

His gray eyes darkened slightly. “That’s up to you,” he answered, his voice a soft, rough whisper.

Pursing her lips, she muttered, “Separate corners. Just like base camp.”

He shrugged, laughter in his tone. “Anything you want, Alanna. I don’t need a sleepy, cranky woman on my hands tomorrow. So let’s get a good night’s sleep for both our sakes.”

*

Shadowy shapes fled down the corridors of her mind, and Alanna moaned. Eventually, the shadows took the shape of one man: Matt Breckenridge. She watched in silent horror as he began unlocking first one door and then another. Alanna put her hands to her mouth, biting back a cry. Each door he opened held something from her unhappy childhood. When the final door was pulled open, she felt herself transported magically back into the arms of her mother. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she heard her mother cooing softly to her, pressing her tightly against her body. The sudden screech of brakes, of tires biting into the pavement, roared through her consciousness. Alanna heard her father shout a warning, and then blackness swiftly grappled at her, tearing her away from her mother. Everything began to tremble and shake beneath her feet. A roar surrounded her, and it sounded like a freight train was passing through the tight confines of the small tent. As the roaring reached a peak, Alanna screamed, fingers pressed against her mouth.

The blackness was terrifying. The earth shuddered convulsively beneath Alanna, and she inhaled sharply, realizing it wasn’t all a nightmare. Matt had already sat up, reaching outward to pull her into his arms. With a small cry, Alanna groped blindly, falling against his warm, hard body. Burying her head against his shoulder, she let the sobs escape.

“It’s all right,” Matt soothed, his voice still husky with sleep. He stroked her hair, holding her tightly against him. “Just aftershocks, Babe. Shh, you’re safe.”

Alanna shut her eyes tightly, more tears escaping, to fall soundlessly against his naked shoulder. The roaring sound died away, and suddenly, the ground stilled beneath them. But the terror of the nightmare and the earthquake had totally shattered her fragile composure. She lay against Matt, arms entwined around his waist, frozen with fear.

“Expect a few more shocks after this one,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her hair. “We’ll be safe out here. There are no buildings to collapse around us. Come on,” he urged gently, “lie back down with me, there’s nothing we can do.”

Alanna remained within the asylum of his embrace, thankful for the protection it afforded her. His roughened fingers grazed her cheek.

“Tears?” he questioned. He forced himself up on one elbow, leaning over her in the darkness. “You woke up screaming, Babe. Bad dreams?”

Shakily, she brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “Yes,” she answered thickly. “Oh, God. My life’s such a mess….”

He smiled tentatively, caressing her temple, pushing a strand of hair away and tucking it behind her ear. “No, it isn’t. You’re just starting another cycle of growing, that’s all,” he explained gently.

She made a wry face. She lay on her side, her body fitting snugly beside him. His quiet maleness seemed almost a palpable thing. How did he know she needed to be touched? To be caressed and calmed? Each grazing touch of his fingers against her face and neck sent little tingles of pleasure throughout her tense body. And each stroke relaxed her a bit more until, finally, she felt the fear slipping away. The tent was comfortable despite the damp coldness outside. Heat radiated from his body, his male scent a heady fragrance to her sensitive nostrils. Finally, as if sensing she was better, Matt lay back down, pulling the blanket over them.

It was good to be with a man again. There was a natural instinct to turn on her side, pressing against him, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Her arm slid across his chest in an unconscious gesture. Alanna felt him shift slightly, his hand gently caressing her back. “Go to sleep,” he whispered huskily, his breath warm against her face.

Her thick lashes fell softly against her cheeks, and she sighed. With his arms about her, Alanna quickly fell back to sleep. For the first time in her life, she felt completely safe.

She awoke slowly. Beneath her ear, she could hear the steady, rock-solid beat of Matt’s heart. It sounded like a strong drum beating within his chest, and she languished on the edge of slumber, content. The silken hair covering his broad chest tickled her nose. Reluctantly, Alanna pulled her hand from its resting place across his flat stomach, rubbing her nose. Opening her eyes, she realized with a shock that sometime during the night she had placed her slender leg over his. Violent emotions suddenly replaced her drowsy contentment. For an instant, she tensed. Matt stirred in his sleep, his hand moving across her hip and coming to rest at her waist.

Outside the tent, the tropical birds were beginning to awaken to an unseen sun, chirping in melodic patterns. Matt’s heart beat changed, pulsing more strongly beneath her ear. His face was barely inches from her own, and Alanna’s eyes widened as she watched him wake up. His features, usually imperturbable, were boyishly readable. The shadowed darkness of a day’s growth of beard made his cheeks seem more gaunt. But the lines of tension around his generous mouth had disappeared, and so had the scowl that seemed to hover between his brows. Her lips parted as she gloried in the discovery of his vulnerability during those fleeting, precious seconds. Why did people have to hide their true selves? Matt looked approachable now and so very, very human. She frowned, thinking of herself. How much did she hide inside? He seemed to be able to lift the facade she had built around herself and see the real Alanna. The thought wasn’t disturbing. She was safe with him.

Another more painful thought interrupted her musings. It would always be between them. The question had to be answered: Was he stealing medical supplies and selling them to the guerrillas?

Alanna gently extricated herself and found her ill-fitting trousers, squirming into them. What would the senator have to say about her sleeping with the man she was supposed to be investigating? She compressed her lips, struggling into the oversized combat boots. Part of her heart cried out at the unfairness of the situation. Alanna fought against her feelings for Matt. She couldn’t get involved! Not now. Not until this whole investigation was over and his name was cleared. A feeling of panic shook her. What if Matt were guilty? Her heart was filled with pain. Despite the senator’s inflammatory statements, Alanna had found nothing about Matt Breckenridge thus far that supported those accusations. Sighing heavily, she finished the last lace and turned, looking directly into Matt’s gray eyes.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

She sat very still, her heart hammering wildly in her breast. Awakened, he looked like that mountain jaguar her mind had so vividly created. He lay naked to the waist, the blanket covering his lower body. The play of muscles beneath his flesh was beautiful to watch. Nowhere on his magnificently sculpted body was there an ounce of fat. The dark hair on his arms and chest accentuated his maleness leaving Alanna helplessly ensnared by her attraction for him. Her own body traitorously responded to his nearness, and she quickly clamped down on her desires. This was no time or place to think of falling in love with a man. Especially Matt Breckenridge.

Alanna choked back a gasp: falling in love? Good God! Where had she concocted
that
nonsense? Panic overrode her coolly detached logic as the entire idea sank in. She avoided his gaze, pretending to busy herself with her long, braided hair.

“Did you sleep well after the ground settled down?” he asked.

“Yes.” She turned, biting her lower lip, realizing her voice sounded strident and off-key. “I’m sorry. I just keep thinking of all that has to be done today,” she offered, lying.

He seemed to accept her moodiness with good grace, sitting up and searching for a clean T-shirt. Shrugging it over his head, he pulled it down. “Then you didn’t have any more nightmares?”

“No….”

He gave her a disarming smile, slipping on the utility shirt. “I’m glad those earth tremors happened along.”

Alanna’s brows drew downward. “You would be.”

Matt rested his arms against his blanketed knees. “You have to enjoy life one moment at a time,” he reminded her. A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “And unless you want to stick around and see the rest of me, I have to get my trousers on. You’re welcome to stay of course.”

She blushed hotly. “I’m leaving,” she muttered hastily, climbing out of the tent.

The chill of the early morning made her shiver. She wrapped her arms about her body, standing over the blackened area that had served as a fire the night before. Matt came out minutes later, fully dressed. He seemed buoyant this morning, and Alanna found herself responding to him despite the turmoil of her feelings.

Matt looked around, pursing his lips. “If I’m not imagining things, it looks like this fog is beginning to thin.” He glanced over at her, beginning to build another fire. “Keep your fingers crossed that when the sun rises it will burn this stuff off.”