Her Hard to Resist Husband (8 page)

“Miriam.”

Tracy wanted to gently wipe a smudge on the little girl’s forehead, much as Ben had tried to do with her a second ago, but she was too afraid of spreading germs at this point to touch anyone outside the village. “Okay, Miriam. What did you want to tell us?”

“You are doctors?”

“Yes. We both are. It’s okay. Is someone sick?”

The girl clasped her hands in front of her and nodded. “My
mami
. She has been ill for two days, but told me not to tell anyone. But now…” Her voice broke on a low sob. “But now she does not wake up, even when I try to feed her broth.”

“Where is she?”

“At my house. But it is a long way from here.”

The first twinge of alarm filtered up her back. “How far?”

“The next village.”

Horrified, Tracy stood in a rush and grabbed Ben’s hand, her wide eyes on his. “Could it have spread beyond Sao Joao dos Rios?”

No! They’d been so careful, no one had been allowed to leave the village once the military had arrived.

But before that?”

His fingers closed around hers, giving them a quick squeeze, then addressed the child, whose small forehead was now scrunched in distress. “Was your mother coughing?”

“Yes. She said it was just a cold, but I am afraid…” She motioned around the quarantined village. “We have heard what happened here. They say the military is shooting anyone who is sick. I had to sneak past them to find you.”

Tracy’s heart clenched. She knew how suspicious some of these towns were of government officials. But those fears only helped spread sickness and disease. Because people who were afraid tended to hide things from those who could help them.

Like Tracy had when she’d left Ben four years ago?

No, it wasn’t the same thing at all. She forced a smile to her lips, knowing it probably looked anything but reassuring. “No one is shooting anyone.”

“Will you come and help my mother, then?”

Tracy glanced at the house, where one of the military police watched them closely. Would they let her travel to the village or would they insist on sending someone else? It was a tough call. She didn’t want to risk spreading anything, but the more people involved, the more places the disease could be carried. “Yes, honey, I will.”

When she tried to move towards the guard, Ben clamped down on her hand. “What do you think you’re doing, Tracy?” he murmured, sending a whisper of air across her cheek that made her shiver.

“You heard her. Her mother is sick.”

“You could end up making things worse for everyone.”

The shiver turned to ice in her veins. Those words were too close to the message he’d sent with the military four years ago. Her brows went up and she looked pointedly at the guard behind them. “I’m going, whether you approve or not. You could always send your little friends after me. You seem to be quite good at doing that.”

“Come on, Tracy. You know why I sent them. You were carrying our child.”

She did know—and maybe she’d been foolish to travel alone, but she’d been just six weeks along and she’d already had her yellow fever shot. She also knew her reason for taking off that week had had little to do with the village and everything to do with the results of her test. Even so, the blinding humiliation of seeing those uniformed officials set foot on that beach—and knowing her husband had been behind their presence—still stung.

They glared at each other. The last thing she needed to do right now was antagonize him further. She forced her voice to soften. “Please, try to understand. I
have
to check on her mother. My job is part of what keeps me going.”

“Keeps you going?”

That last phrase had slipped out before she realized it. Leave it to Ben to catch it as it flew by.

“I mean, my job is important to me, that’s all.”

His gaze raked her face, and she held her breath, hoping the raw fear that slithered up her throat wasn’t visible. Breaking eye contact, he glanced down at the girl, whose terror was much more on the surface. “Fine. We’ll both go. But we need to take precautions. We’re on antibiotics, so I’m not worried about us, but I also don’t want us carrying anything back that way.”

Was that why he’d been worried? Maybe she’d misjudged him.

“What about Miriam?” She kept her voice just as low, switching to English to make it harder for the little girl to understand what she was saying. “They may not let her leave Sao Joao dos Rios, now that she’s been exposed.”

“I know. I’ll talk to the guard and get her started on antibiotics.”

Poor girl, she had no idea that by trying to get help for her mother she might become a virtual prisoner. And if the worst came to the worst, and her mother had the deadly disease, she might never see her again.

A familiar pang went through Tracy’s chest. Her mother had died while Tracy had been here in Brazil. Six months after she and Ben had married, in fact. Her mother had had no idea she was sick during the wedding rehearsal or as they’d planned what should have been a happy occasion. But then she’d been diagnosed a few weeks after the ceremony. She’d died months later.

Squaring her shoulders, she went through the motions of going with Ben to talk to the guard, who in turn had to make a phone call up his chain of command. An hour later, she, Ben, and four military personnel were on their way to the next village. Ben had his arm around her in the backseat of the four-wheel drive to help steady her as they hit pothole after pothole, the scarred tract rarely seeing much in the way of motor vehicles.

Loaded to the gills with medical equipment, as well as Ben’s lab stuff, she leaned against him, allowing him to pull her even closer as she prayed that whatever they found would not be as bad as she feared.

* * *

“Bronchitis,” Ben declared.

Tracy almost laughed aloud as a giddy sense of relief swept over her. “Are you sure?”

Ben sat behind the house on a low three-legged stool, studying the last of the slides through his microscope.

“I don’t see any sign of plague bacteria. And she’s awake now. No fever or symptoms other than some thick congestion in her chest.” He leaned back and looked at her. “She probably kept going until she was literally worn out, which was why Miriam couldn’t wake her up. Regardless, we don’t have a case of the plague here.”

“Thank God.” Her legs threatened to give out, and she had to put a hand on Ben’s shoulder to brace herself.

He glanced up at her, concern in his eyes. “Hey, sit down before you fall down.” Before she realized what he was doing, he’d pulled her onto his left knee.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “There’s nowhere else to sit.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. About you sending the military after me.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were upset.”

She blinked. He’d just given her absolution. Whether it was for sins of the past or sins of the present was immaterial right now—not when the blood was thickening in her veins, the air around her turning crystal clear with secret knowledge.

The sudden sound of his breath being let out and the way his arm tightened around her back were her undoing. All she could think about was that she owed him a huge “thank you.” Before she could stop herself, she looped her arms around his neck and leaned forward to kiss him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

H
ER
LIPS
GRAZED
his cheek.

Ben wasn’t at all sure how it happened. First she was apologizing then her mouth was on his skin. The instant it happened, something from the past surged inside him, and he brushed aside the gesture in favor of something a little more personal. If she was going to kiss him, he was going to make damned sure it counted. Using his free hand to cup her head, he eased her round until she faced him.

He stared at her for a long moment, taking in the parted lips, glittering eyes…an expression he knew all too well. He lowered his head, an inner shout of exultation going off in his skull when she didn’t flinch away but met him halfway.

Their lips connected, and it was as if a match had been struck in the presence of gasoline fumes. They both went up in flames.

A low moan slid between them. One that most certainly hadn’t come from him. Taking that as a signal to continue, his fingers lifted and tunneled deep into her hair, the damp moisture of her scalp feeling cool against his overheated skin.

Ignoring the microscope and slides, he shifted her legs sideways until they rested between his, without breaking contact with her mouth for even a second.

The change in position pressed her thigh against his already tightening flesh, which was pure torture—made him want to push back to increase the contact. He forced himself to remain still instead, although it just about killed him. It had been four years since he’d held this woman in his arms, and he wasn’t about to blow it by doing anything that would have her leaping from his lap in a panic. Realistically, he knew they weren’t going to have sex behind the house of an ill woman, but he could take a minute or two to drink his fill of her.

Only, he’d never really get his fill. Would always want more than she was willing to give.

He licked along the seam of her mouth, asking for permission. She granted it without a word, opening to him. He went deep, his hand tightening in her hair as he tipped her head sideways seeking to find the best angle possible. She wiggled closer, taking him almost to the brink before he got himself back under control.

He gave a hard swallow.
Slow.

Exploring the heat and warmth he found between her lips, he tried to rememorize everything and realized he didn’t need to. Because he’d forgotten nothing. Not the taste of her, not the shivers he could wring from her by using his teeth in addition to his tongue.

And when he could no longer contain his low groan, her fingers came up and tangled in his hair. He could feel the battle going on within her and fought against his own need to control the situation, letting her lead instead.

Unfortunately, she took that as a signal to pull back, her breath coming in husky snatches of sound that he found erotic beyond belief.

She took a couple more quick gulps before attempting to talk.

“Ben,” she whispered, her mouth still against his. “What are we doing here?”

In spite of himself, he smiled. “I thought that was fairly obvious.”

“Mmm.” The hum of sound drove him crazy, just like it always had. “This is a mistake. You know it is.”

“I know.” He bit her lower lip, sucking on the soft flesh before releasing it with a growl. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it, though. Or that you didn’t either.”

“I know.” No arguments, no denying that she felt the same. Just an acknowledgement of what was obvious to both of them.

It had been an incredibly long week, and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her, make slow, satisfying love and then go to sleep still trapped inside her. Just like they used to.

But he knew that was the exhaustion talking. Not to mention that thing wedged against her hip, which was busy shouting out commands he was doing his best to ignore.

Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.

Tracy leaned her forehead against his and gave a drawn-out sigh. “We need to get back to the other village if this one is in the clear.”

She heaved one more sigh, before climbing to her feet, looking anywhere but at his lap, which was probably smart. “I’m sure we’re both so tired we’re not thinking straight. We’ll regret this once we’ve had some sleep.”

She might, but he wouldn’t. Not even if he slept as long as Rip Van Winkle. He’d still wake up and want to kiss her all over again.

He closed his eyes for a long moment then started undoing his equipment without a word.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, you’re right. I enjoyed it too. You always were a great kisser.”

Some of the tension in his spine seeped away. Questions from four years ago resurfaced and he couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Then why were you always in such a hurry to leave?”

“Please, don’t, Ben. Not right now.”

And her response was exactly the same as it had been back then. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it—had just wanted to head off on her next adventure.

There was nothing left to say, then. “I’ll get some medicine out of the car and explain the dosage.”

She nodded. “I’m sure they’ll even let Miriam come home as there’s no evidence of pneumonic plague here. We’ll put her on the prophylactic dosage of antibiotics and she should be fine.”

Stowing his equipment in a large box and carefully stacking his microscope on top, all he could do was wish for a prophylactic dose of something that would cut through his current jumble of emotions and put him back on the road to normalcy.

Normalcy. Wow. If he ever found a pill that would restore that, he’d end up a very rich man.

* * *

Tracy could have kicked herself. She’d let him kiss her.
On the mouth.
Worse, she’d kissed him back. Crazily. As if she couldn’t get enough of him.

Her chaste little gesture of thanks had flared to inferno proportions in a nanosecond.

The chemistry between them was just as potent as ever. Something she never should’ve doubted. Something she should have been braced for and never allowed to happen.

And why on earth had she let herself be drawn into an argument about the past? Because she was trying to keep her distance emotionally? You sure couldn’t tell it from where she stood. Because the only message she’d been sending while perched on his lap had been more along the lines of throw-me-on-my-back-and-take-me-hard.

To allow that to happen, though, would only make things more complicated. Especially now. She could admit that she still cared about him, but it didn’t mean they could—or should—be together. If she thought there was a chance, she might try to explain what had happened all those years ago. But it wouldn’t do any good at this point. And the last thing she needed was Ben’s pity. Hanging onto the anger from the past might be best for both of them right now, because in another week or so they’d be heading in opposite directions.