Midnight Rainbow (13 page)

           
 
He appeared soundlessly beside her. "Sit
in the same place where I sat," he instructed, placing the rifle in her
hands. "Do you know how to use this?"

           
 
The weapon was heavy, but her slim hands
looked capable as she handled it. "Yes. I'm a fairly good shot." A
wry smile curved her lips.
"With paper targets and clay
pigeons, anyway."

           
 
"That's good enough." He began
unbuttoning his shirt, and she stood there in a daze, her eyes on his hands. He
paused. "Are you going to guard me from down here?" She blushed.
"No. Sorry." Quickly she turned and scrambled up the bank, then took
a seat in the exact spot where he'd sat. She could see both banks, but at the
same time there was a fair amount of cover that she could use if the need
arose. He'd probably picked this out as the best vantage point without even
thinking about it, just automatically sifting through the choices and arriving
at the correct one. He might be retired, but his training was ingrained.

           
 
A movement, a flash of bronze, detected out of
the corner of her eye, told her that he was wading into the stream. She shifted
her gaze a fraction so she wouldn't be able to see him at all, but just the
knowledge that he was as naked as she had been kept her heart pounding
erratically. She swallowed,
then
licked her lips,
forcing herself to concentrate on the surrounding jungle, but the compulsion to
look at him continued.

           
 
She heard splashing and pictured him standing
there like a savage, bare and completely at home. She closed her eyes, but the
image remained before her. Slowly, totally unable to control herself, she
opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. It was only a small
movement, a fraction of an inch, until she was able to see him, but that wasn't
enough. Stolen glances weren't enough. She wanted to study every inch of him,
drink in the sight of his powerful body. Shifting around, she looked fully at
him, and froze. He was beautiful, so beautiful that she forgot to breathe.
Without being handsome, he had the raw power and grace of a predator, all the
terrible beauty of a hunter. He was bronzed all over, his tan a deep, even
brown. Unlike her, he didn't keep his back turned in case she looked; he had a
complete disregard for modesty. He was taking a bath; she could look or not
look, as she wished. His skin was sleek and shiny with water, and the droplets
caught in the hair on his chest glittered like captured diamonds. His body hair
was dark, despite the sun-streaked blondness of his head. It shadowed his
chest, ran in a thin line down his flat, muscled stomach, and bloomed again at
the juncture of his legs. His legs were as solid as tree trunks, long and roped
with muscle; every movement he made set off ripples beneath his skin. It was
like watching a painting by one of the old masters come to life. He soaped
himself all over, then squatted in the water to rinse in the same manner she had,
cupping his palms to scoop up the water. When he was rinsed clean, he stood and
looked up at her, probably to check on her, and met her gaze head on. Jane
couldn't look away, couldn't pretend that she hadn't been staring at him with
an almost painful appreciation. He stood very still in the stream, watching her
as she watched him, letting her take in every detail of his body. Under her
searching gaze, his body began to stir, harden, growing to full, heavy arousal.

           
 
"Jane," he said softly, but still
she heard him. She was so attuned to him, so painfully sensitive to every move
and sound he made, that she would have heard
him
if
he'd whispered. "Do you want to come down here?"

           
 
Yes. Oh, God, yes, more than she'd ever wanted
anything. But she was still a little afraid of her own feelings, so she held
back. This was a part of herself that she didn't know, wasn't certain she could
control.

           
 
"I can't," she replied, just as
softly. "Not yet."

           
 
"Then turn around, honey, while you still
have a choice." She quivered, almost unable to make the required movement,
but at last her muscles responded and she turned away from him, listening as he
waded out of the water. In less than a minute he appeared noiselessly at her
side and took the rifle from her hands. He had both packs with him. Typically,
he made no further comment on what had just happened. "We'll get away from
the water and set up camp. It'll be night pretty soon."

           
 
Night.
Long hours in the dark tent, lying next to him.
Jane
followed him, and when he stopped she helped him do the work they had done the
night before, setting up the tent and hiding it. She didn't protest at the cold
field rations, but ate without really tasting anything. Soon she was crawling
into the tent and taking off her boots, waiting for him to join her.

           
 
When he did, they lay quietly side by side,
watching as the remaining light dimmed, then abruptly vanished.

           
 
Tension hummed through her, making her muscles
tight. The darkness pressed in on her, an unseen monster that sucked her breath
away. No list of compulsive questions leaped to her lips tonight; she felt
oddly timid, and it had been years since she'd allowed herself to be timid
about anything. She no longer knew herself.

           
 
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked,
his voice gentle.

           
 
Just the sound of his voice enabled her to
relax a little. "No," she whispered.

           
 
"Then come here and let me keep the dark
away from you." She felt his hand on her arm, urging her closer,
then
she was enfolded in arms so strong that nothing could
ever make her afraid while they held her. He cradled her against his side,
tucking her head into the hollow of his shoulder. With a touch so light that it
could have been the brush of a butterfly's wings, he kissed the top of her
head. "Good night, honey," he whispered.

           
 
"Good night," she said in return.

           
 
Long after he was asleep, Jane lay in his arms
with her eyes open, though she could see nothing. Her heart was pounding in her
chest with a slow, heavy rhythm, and her insides felt jittery. It wasn't fear
that kept her awake, but a churning emotion that shifted everything inside her.
She knew exactly what was wrong with her. For the first time in too many years,
everything was right with her. She'd learned to live her life with a shortage
of trust. No matter that she'd learned to enjoy herself and her freedom; there
had always been that residual caution that kept her from letting a man
get
too close. Until now she'd never been strongly enough
attracted to a man for the attraction to conquer the caution—
Until
now.
Until Grant.
And now the attraction had become
something much stronger. The truth stunned her, yet she had to accept it: she
loved him. She hadn't expected it, though for two days she had felt it tugging
at her. He was harsh and controlled, bad-tempered, and his sense of humor was
severely underdeveloped, but he had gently washed the snake's blood from her,
held her hand during the night, and had gone out of his way to make their trek
easier for her. He wanted her, but he hadn't taken her because she wasn't
ready. She was afraid of the dark, so he held her in his arms. Loving him was
at once the easiest and most difficult thing she'd ever done.

           
 
Once again he awoke to find her cuddled on top
of him, but this tune it didn't bother him that he had slept peacefully through
the night. Sliding his hands up her back, he accepted that his normally keen
instincts weren't alarmed by her because there was absolutely no danger in her
except perhaps the danger of her driving him crazy. She managed to do that with
every little sway of her behind. Reveling in the touch of her all along his
body, he moved his hands down, feeling her slenderness, the small ribs, the
delicate spine, the enticing little hollow at the small of her back, then the
full, soft mounds of her buttocks. He cupped his palms over them, kneading her
with his fingers. She muttered and shifted against him, brushing at a lock of
hair that had fallen into her face. Her eyelashes fluttered,
then
closed completely once more.

           
 
He smiled, enjoying the way she woke up. She
did it by slow degrees, moaning and grousing while still more asleep than
awake, frowning and pouting, and moving against him as if trying to sink
herself
deeper into him so she wouldn't have to wake up at
all. Then her eyes opened, and she blinked several times, and as quickly as
that the pout faded from her lips and she gave him a slow smile that would have
melted stone.

           
 
"Good morning," she said, and
yawned. She stretched,
then
abruptly froze in place.
Her head came up, and she stared at him in stupefaction. "I'm on top of
you," she said blankly.

           
 
"Again," he confirmed.

           
 
"Again?"

           
 
"You slept on top of me the night before
last, too. Evidently my holding you while you sleep isn't enough; you think you
have to hold me down."

           
 
She slithered off him, sitting up in the tent
and straightening her twisted, wrinkled clothing. Color burned in her face.
"I'm sorry. I know it can't have been very comfortable for you."

           
 
"Don't apologize. I've enjoyed it,"
he drawled. "If you really want to make it up to me, though, we'll reverse
positions tonight."

           
 
Her breath caught and she stared at him in the
dim light, her eyes soft and melting. Yes. Everything in her agreed. She wanted
to belong to him; she wanted to know everything about his body and let him know
everything about hers. She wanted to tell him, but she didn't know how to put
it into words. A crooked smile crossed his face; then he sat up and reached for
his boots, thrusting his feet into them and lacing them up. Evidently he took
her silence for a refusal, because he dropped the subject and began the task of
breaking camp.

           
 
"We have enough food for one more
meal," he said as they finished eating. "Then I'll have to start
hunting."

           
 
She didn't like that idea. Hunting meant that
he'd leave her alone for long stretches of time. "I don't mind a
vegetarian diet," she said hopefully.

           
 
"Maybe it won't come to that. We've been
gradually working our way out of the mountains, and unless I miss my guess
we're close to the edge of the forest. We'll probably see fields and roads
today. But we're going to avoid people until I'm certain it's safe, okay?"

           
 
She nodded in agreement.

           
 
Just as he'd predicted, at midmorning they
came abruptly to the end of the jungle. They stood high on a steep cliff, and
stretched out below them was a valley with cultivated fields, a small network
of roads, and a cozy village situated at the southern end. Jane blinked at the
suddenly brilliant sunlight. It was like stepping out of one century into
another. The valley looked neat and prosperous, reminding her that
Costa Rica
was the most highly developed country in
Central America
, despite the thick tangle of virgin ram
forest at her back.

           
 
"Oh," she breathed. "Wouldn't
it be nice to sleep in a bed again?" He grunted an absent reply, his
narrowed eyes sweeping the valley for any sign of abnormal activity. Jane stood
beside him, waiting for him to make his decision.

           
 
It was made for them. Abruptly he grabbed her
arm and jerked her back into the sheltering foliage, dragging her to the ground
behind a huge bush just as a helicopter suddenly roared over their heads. It
was flying close to the ground, following the tree line; she had only a glimpse
of it before it was gone, hidden by the trees. It was a gun-ship, and had
camouflage paint.

           
 
"Did you see any markings?" she
asked sharply, her nails digging into his skin.

           
 
"No. There weren't any." He rubbed
his
stubbled
jaw. "There's no way of telling who
it belonged to, but we can't take any chances. Now we know that we can't just
walk across the valley. We'll work our way down, and try to find more
cover."

           
 
If anything, the terrain was even more
difficult now. They were at the edge of a volcanic mountain range, and the land
had been carved with a violent hand. It seemed to be either straight up, or
straight down. Their pace was agonizingly slow as they worked their way down
rocky bluffs and up steep gorges. When they stopped to eat, they had covered
less than one-fourth the length of the valley, and Jane's legs ached as they
hadn't since the wild run through the jungle the first day. Right on schedule,
just as they finished eating, they heard the boom of thunder. Grant looked
around for shelter, considering every outcropping of rock. Then he pointed.
"I think that's a cave up there. If it is we'll be in high cotton."

           
 
"What?" Jane asked, frowning.

           
 
"Sitting pretty," he explained.
"Luxurious accommodations, in comparison to what we've had."

           
 
"Unless it's already
occupied."

           
 
"That's why you're going to wait down
here while I check it out." He moved up the fern covered wall of the
gorge, using bushes and vines and any other toehold he could find. The gorge
itself was narrow and steep, enclosing them on all four sides. Its shape gave a
curious clarity to the calls of the innumerable birds that flitted among the
trees like living Christmas decorations, all decked out in their iridescent
plumage. Directly overhead was a streak of sky, but it consisted of rolling
black clouds instead of the clear blue that she'd seen only moments
before.

           
 
Grant reached the cave, then immediately
turned and waved to her. "Come on up; it's clear! Can you make it?"

           
 
"Have I failed yet?" she quipped,
starting the climb, but she'd had to force the humor. The desolation had been
growing in her since they'd seen the valley. Knowing that they were so close to
civilization made her realize that their time together was limited. While they
had been in the forest, the only two people locked in a more primitive time, she'd
had no sense of time running out. Now she couldn't ignore the fact that soon,
in a few days or less, their time together would end. She felt as if she'd
already wasted so much time, as if the golden sand had been trickling through
her fingers and she'd only just realized what she held. She felt panic-stricken
at the thought of discovering love only to lose it, because there wasn't enough
time to let it grow.

           
 
He reached his hand down and caught hers,
effortlessly lifting her the last few feet. "Make yourself comfortable; we
could be here a while. This looks like the granddaddy of all storms." Jane
surveyed their shelter. It wasn't really a cave; it was little more than an indentation
in the face of the rock, about eight feet deep. It had a steeply slanting
ceiling that soared to ten or eleven feet at the opening of the cave, but was
only about five feet high at the back. The floor was rocky, and one big rock,
as large as a love seat and shaped like a peanut, lay close to the mouth of the
cave. But it was dry, and because of its shallowness it wasn't dark, so Jane
wasn't inclined to find fault with it. Given Grant's eerie sense of timing, she
wasn't surprised to hear the first enormous raindrops begin filtering through
the trees just as he spread out the tarp at the back of the cave. He placed it
behind the big rock, using its bulk to shelter them. She sat down on the tarp
and drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her
knees, listening to the sound of the rain as it increased in volume.

           
 
Soon it was a din and the solid sheets of
water that obscured their vision heightened the impression that they were under
a waterfall. She could hear the crack of
lightning,
feel the earth beneath her shake from the enormous claps of thunder. It was
dark now, as the rain blotted out what light came through the thick canopy. She
could barely see Grant, who was standing just inside the mouth of the cave with
his shoulder propped against the wall, occasionally puffing on a cigarette.

           
 
Chills raced over her body as the rain cooled
the air. Hugging her legs even tighter for warmth, Jane stared through the
dimness at the broad, powerful shoulders outlined against the gray curtain of
rain. He wasn't an easy man to get to know. His personality was as shadowy as
the jungle, yet just the sight of that muscular back made her feel safe and
protected. She knew that he stood between her and any danger. He had already
risked his life for her on more than one occasion, and was as matter-of-fact
about it as if being shot at were an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it was for
him, but Jane didn't take it so lightly.

           
 
He finished his cigarette and field-stripped
it. Jane doubted that anyone would track them here through the rain, but it was
second nature to him to be cautious. He went back to his calm perusal of the
storm, standing guard while she rested.

           
 
Something shifted inside her and coiled
painfully in her chest. He was so alone. He was a hard, lonely man, but
everything about him drew her like a magnet, pulling at her heart and body. Her
eyes clouded as she watched him. "When this was over he'd walk away from
her as if these days in the jungle had never existed. This was all
routine
for him. What she could have of him, all that she
could ever have of him, was the present, too few days before this was over. And
that just wasn't enough. She was cold now, chilled to her bones. The unceasing,
impenetrable curtain of rain carried a damp coldness with it, and her own
spirits chilled her from the inside. Instinctively, like a sinuous cat seeking
heat, she uncoiled from the tarp and went up to him, gravitating to his certain
warmth and comfort. Silently she slid her arms around his taut waist and
pressed her face into the marvelous heat of his chest. Glancing down at her, he
lifted an eyebrow in mild inquiry. "I'm cold," she muttered, leaning
her head on him and staring pensively at the rain.

           
 
He looped his arm around her shoulder, holding
her closer to him and sharing his warmth with her. A shiver ran over her; he
rubbed his free hand up her bare arm, feeling the coolness of her skin. Of its
own accord his hand continued upward, stroking her satiny jaw, smoothing the
dark tangle of hair away from her face. She was in a melancholy mood, this
funny little cat, staring at the rain as if it would never stop, her eyes
shadowed and that full, passionate mouth sad.

           
 
Cupping her chin in his hand, he tilted her
face up so he could study her quiet expression. A small smile curved the
corners of his hard mouth. "What's wrong, honey? Rain making you
feel
blue?" Before she could answer, he bent his head
and kissed her, using his own cure.

           
 
Jane's hands went to his shoulders, clinging
to him for support. His mouth was hard and demanding and oh so sweet. The taste
of him, the feel of him, was just what she wanted. Her teeth parted, allowing
the slow probing of his tongue. Deep inside her, fire began to curl, and she
curled too, twining against him in an unconscious movement that he read
immediately.

           
 
Lifting his mouth from hers just a little, he
muttered, "Honey, this feels like an offer to me." Her dark eyes were
a little dazed as she looked up at him. "I think it is," she whispered.
He dropped his arms to her waist and wrapped them around her, lifting her off
her feet, bringing her level with him. She wound her arms around his neck and
kissed him fervently, lost in the taste and feel of his mouth, not even aware
he'd moved until he set her down to stand on the tarp. The dimness at the back
of the cave hid any expression that was in his eyes, but she could feel his
intent amber gaze on her as he began calmly unbuttoning her shirt. Jane's mouth
went dry, but her own shaking fingers moved to his chest and began opening his
shirt in turn.