The Temptress (2 page)

Chris followed Asher Prescott through the window, where, at the edge of the trees, two horses awaited them.

“Miss Mathison,” Mr. Prescott began, “may I say what a pleasure it is to—”

“You can do your courting later,” came a voice that Chris recognized instantly. She looked up at the man on horseback hidden in the shadows. “We have to get out of here, so let's ride.”

Both Chris and Asher obeyed that voice without delay.

• • •

Chris and Asher rode close to each other all night and all the next day, through trees as big around as horses, past small villages, both Indian and white, past logger camps, past saw mills. Always, they stayed away from people, moving southeast and allowing as few people as possible to see them. They traveled across paths that were so narrow that they had to lead the horses. Tynan always stayed far ahead, leading them, scouting the trail, looking for places where too many people watched. Only once did they stop. Tynan gave a low whistle and Mr. Prescott put up his hand to halt Chris, then went ahead to see what Tynan wanted. He came back to say that ahead was a party of loggers taking their noon meal and so they had to rest until the men were gone.

Asher pulled jerky out of his saddle bags and a canteen and gave a piece of the dried meat to Chris.

Chris leaned back against the trunk of a tree, her body feeling weak with exhaustion. “I think there's something wrong with that Tynan of yours,” she said to Asher, watching him from under her lashes. Sometimes the best way to get information from someone was to pretend to not want it. “I think he must be scarred or disfigured in some way or else he wouldn't be afraid to show his face.”

“He's not
my
Tynan,” Asher answered, looking affronted. “If he belongs to anyone, it's to your father. He hired him.”

“Do you know why we're going through the rain forest?” Chris asked, trying a new tact. “It seems like such a long way around.”

“It is,” Asher answered, gazing off into the trees.

Chris had been a reporter for several years and she was used to interviewing people and she'd developed a sixth sense about when someone was lying. Perhaps this man wasn't exactly lying but he certainly wasn't telling the whole truth.

Before Chris could ask another question, there was a whistle from within the trees and, as obedient as a dog, Prescott rose from the ground and started packing.

“Tell me, does anyone ever
see
this Mr. Tynan?” Chris asked as she mounted her horse.

Asher looked startled. “Why are you so interested in him?”

Chris watched as Asher heaved himself into the saddle. He acted as if he were more used to the comfort of a buggy than being on horseback. “Professional curiosity. Do you know why my father hired this man? What are his qualifications for leading us through the forest?”

Asher shrugged as he mounted. “He's been there before, I guess, but he's an odd one. Doesn't seem to like people at all, always puts his bedroll outside the campsite, never wants to ride with anyone, and he doesn't like to talk. Ask him a question about himself and he refuses to answer. I'd like to know where your father got him too.”

“Knowing my father, you probably don't want to learn the entire truth of whatever he's done,” Chris said under her breath. When she got home, she was going to give her father a piece of her mind about this ridiculous kidnapping.

At sundown, they heard the whistle again and Asher halted her as he went ahead into the trees, returning minutes later with two fresh horses.

“Did you suggest to him that we might like to rest?” Chris asked as she mounted the horse.

“I most certainly did,” Asher said. He looked more tired than Chris felt and she thought she was probably more accustomed to riding long hours than he was. “But we have to go on. Ty wants to get to the edge of the forest before we halt. But he says we'll have an entire day of rest when we get there.”

“Ty,” Chris murmured as she mounted. She spent the next several hours as they jogged along wondering about this mysterious man who came into her room and held her, watched her dress, then disappeared to lead them through a forest that was said by the Indians to be haunted. And why had her father hired him? And who was Prescott? He didn't seem to know much more about traveling through this land than she did, but he'd been chosen as half of the rescue team. What in the world was her father up to?

Chris had plenty of time to puzzle over the facts since they continued riding all night. Her questions kept her mind alert and kept her from feeling the absolute exhaustion that ran through her. They'd had no sleep or rest for two days and two nights now.

When Chris was beginning to weave in the saddle and twice she had nearly fallen off, she thought she saw a light through the trees. Blinking several times to clear her vision, she began to be more sure of what she saw. Somehow, she knew it was a fire built for them. “Otherwise, Ty wouldn't let us get so near,” she murmured to herself.

“Mr. Prescott,” she called and succeeded in waking him from where he slumped forward in his saddle. “Look ahead.”

There was renewed energy as they urged the horses on toward the fire and all Chris could think of was finally being allowed to stop and sleep. Even as she was still moving, she began to unfasten the straps at the back of the saddle that held her sleeping roll.

When they did halt, Chris dropped her bedroll onto the ground, then fell on top of it and was asleep in an instant.

She had no idea how long she slept before something woke her. She opened her heavy eyelids. It was still dark but there was a faint hint of early morning light and in it, she could see outlined a man wearing a wide brimmed hat moving almost silently as he unsaddled the horses and gave them food and water.

Chris half slept, half waked as she watched him and even when he began to walk toward her, she still didn't awaken fully.

He knelt by her and it seemed perfectly natural when he pulled her into his arms. Like a sleepy child, she just smiled and snuggled against him.

“You're on top of your blankets,” he said in that voice that seemed to rumble through her. “You'll get cold.”

She nodded once while he straightened the blanket under her, then put the other one on top. For just a moment, as he covered the far side of her, she thought his lips were near her forehead and she smiled, eyes closed. It was like a good-night kiss from her father. “Good night, Ty,” she whispered and fell asleep again.

When she woke again, it was full daylight and at first she thought she must be dreaming, for around her was a place of fantasy. Tall, tall trees towered overhead, blocking the sun, everything covered with gray-green moss or ferns, everything so soft. It was as if she were at the end of the earth.

Near her, Mr. Prescott slept soundly. It felt to Chris that she was the only person alive on earth.

Slowly, she got up, stood and stretched. The eerie forest seemed to be utterly and totally silent. In front of her was what passed for a path, little more than a rut in the greenery. They'd come in from the right so now she took the left path.

She was no more than a few feet from the camp but, as soon as she turned a bend, she felt alone. She may as well have been a hundred miles away from another human. She kept walking, no more than a few yards on the springy forest floor, and she thought she heard water ahead of her.

Another few yards and she could see a rushing stream below and to her right, with big boulders in the water covered with patches of black moss. Suddenly, the only thought that Chris had was of the bath she'd missed two days ago. She thought with regret of the tub full of hot water that she'd had to leave behind. Why couldn't the men have stayed inside the closet until she'd finished bathing? Of course they might have if she hadn't opened the door to the wardrobe. Stayed in there and watched her, she thought with a grimace as she ran down to the water.

Now, all she could think of was getting clean again and she had her clothes off in a second and was wading into the water. It was icy and took her breath away but she wanted to be clean more than she wanted to be warm. She washed while standing behind a cluster of boulders so that if either of the men came from the camp, they wouldn't be able to see her, and she was close to the edge of the forest so she could make a run for it if necessary.

She was just finishing her bath and regretting her impulsiveness because she didn't have a towel with her when she thought she heard a man whistling and looked up to see Mr. Prescott coming down the trail. Quickly, she ran from the water, grabbed her clothes and ran into the forest—only to run smack into the hard chest of Tynan.

For a moment they were both too astonished to speak. The lush, abundant greenery of the forest deadened all sound and two people could walk into each other without seeing or hearing anything beforehand.

Tynan's hands caught and held her, his fingers moving down her back as he stepped away from her just a bit so he could look at her naked body.

“Miss Mathison, I'd recognize you anywhere,” he said with a smile.

Chris, with a cry, pushed away from him and ran a couple of feet to get behind a tree, where she began to dress with shaking hands.

“The water's really too cold to be taking a bath, Miss Mathison,” he said and there was laughter in his voice. “Not that I haven't enjoyed all your baths, but next time, I think you should ask me first. I wouldn't want you to catch cold.”

Chris could think of nothing to say as she dressed. All day yesterday, during that long ride, she'd fantasized about this mysterious man and had begun to believe what she'd asked Asher about, that he was probably deformed or disfigured in some way and that's why he didn't want anyone to see him. But even in the few seconds that she'd had to look at him, she'd known he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He was very masculine, with generous features, perfectly formed lips, eyes of a brilliant blue, a big, square jaw, and black hair that curled about the collar of a shirt that repeated the color of his eyes.

When she was dressed, Chris stepped from behind the tree. He was sitting on the ground, his back to her.

She'd had such a different idea of what he looked like, she'd begun to think that he was even fatherly after the way he'd tucked her in last night. But there was nothing fatherly about this man.

She walked toward him and when he didn't turn around, she moved to stand in front of him. He didn't look up, keeping his face concealed by the broad-brimmed hat. Boldly, Chris sat down across from him.

He kept his head down. “I want to apologize, Miss Mathison,” he said softly. “I seem to keep embarrassing you and I haven't meant to. It's just that we keep meeting under very unusual circumstances. I don't want you to have the wrong impression of me. I was hired by your father to rescue you and take you back to him. And that's
all
I mean to do.”

Chris sat there looking at the top of his hat and thought how utterly bizarre the situation was. This man had made her look like a fool twice, he'd held her in his arms three times—not to mention that two of those times she'd had no clothes on—he had kidnapped her, telling her that it didn't matter at all what she wanted, yet here she was feeling as if she should comfort him. She put out her hand to touch his and as she did so, she saw a red, raw place on his wrist, just barely visible beneath his shirt cuff.

“You've hurt yourself,” she said, immediately concerned.

He was on his feet instantly, and before Chris could say another word, he walked, half ran actually, to the edge of the stream and called to Prescott.

Chris was left sitting on the moss and wondering what she had said to offend him.

“Here she is,” she heard Tynan saying before he reappeared, leading the man as if he were herding a maverick. As little as she knew of Tynan, she was sure that the voice he was using was a false one. “You've introduced yourselves, haven't you, Miss Mathison? This is Asher Prescott. He's a friend of your father and will be with us while we slowly make our way through this forest. Ash, why don't you take Miss Mathison fishing? We'll need fresh food. And later, you two can gather firewood.” He gave Ash a little push in Chris's direction.

Asher smiled down at Chris and offered her his hand to help her stand. “Shall we go fishing, Miss Mathison? I hear there are salmon in these waters.”

Chris was confused by what was happening. She didn't want to spend the day with Mr. Prescott but it didn't seem as if she had any choice. It seemed to be already arranged. She glanced at Tynan but he had his head turned so that she couldn't see his face.

“Why, yes, fishing sounds like a delightful pastime,” she answered as she accepted Mr. Prescott's hand. By the time she stood, Tynan had disappeared into the trees.

She and Asher walked back to the camp together to find that there were supplies and two mules that Chris had not seen before and Mr. Prescott was already handing her a fishing pole.

“Shall we go, Miss Mathison?”

He led her back the way she'd gone that morning, over rocks, past the place she'd bathed, but not far from the camp. “I think this will be a good place to try,” he said.

“Is that your idea or Mr. Tynan's?”

He smiled at her. “I don't think he's
Mr.
Tynan. I'm not sure he has but the one name. But let's not talk about him. I hear you worked on a newspaper. Is it true that you're the infamous Nola Dallas?”

“Nola Dallas is my pen name,” she said stiffly, as she expertly tossed the fishing line into the water. She'd always lived in Washington and she'd fished since she was a child.

Asher looked stricken. “I didn't mean to give offense, it's just that, having read your articles, I thought you'd be a much older woman—or maybe even a man. Did you really do those things you wrote about?”

“Every one of them.”

“Even appearing as a chorus girl? Wearing pink tights on stage?”

Chris smiled at the memory. “And getting myself thrown out during the second act. I'm not much of a dancer.”

“But then who cares about dancing when you can implement the reforms that you have?”

Smiling, she felt herself warming to him. “Tell me, Mr. Prescott, why did my father choose you to help in this rescue mission? I would have thought he'd choose a man who knew this forest.”

“That's Tynan's job. He's to take care of the animals and the food and look after our safety.”

“And what are you to do?”

Ash smiled at her in a very pleasant way. “My only job is to make your trip enjoyable.”

“I see,” Chris said as she looked back at the water. But she didn't see at all. “What do you do for a living, Mr. Prescott?”

“Please call me Ash. It's not as if we first met in a drawing room.”

Chris tried to control the redness in her cheeks as she remembered the first time she'd seen this man inside the wardrobe in Hugh's house.

“Until last year I had my own lumber mill south of here but there was a fire and I lost everything.”

She glanced at him quickly and saw the way the muscles in his jaw twitched. Having lost his business, he was obviously not over the hurt of it. “But you've started another business?” she said with much sympathy in her voice.

“Everything I had was tied up in the mill and when it went, I had nothing left.” His voice lowered. “Not even credit.” After a moment, he turned to her and gave a little smile. “But I have every hope that my fortunes will change for the better very soon. Look! I think you have a fish on the end of your line. Shall I bring it in for you?”

“I can manage,” she said as she began pulling and reeling in the line. There was indeed a salmon on the end and within another hour she'd brought in half a dozen good-sized fish, while Ash had two small ones.

He laughed good-naturedly about her being the breadwinner and they walked companionably back to the camp.

There was a small fire going, built for them by Tynan, Chris thought, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

“I'd like to discuss something with you, Mr…. Ash,” Chris said as she expertly cleaned the fish and spitted them with a stick. “I wanted to talk to both you and Mr. Tynan but I can't seem to get you together. The reason I was at Hugh Lanier's house was that I was investigating a rumor that Mr. Lanier was involved in something quite evil and—”

“Evil?” Asher said, leaning back against a tree. “Perhaps evil is too harsh a word.”

“I don't think so and I don't believe my readers will think so. Hugh Lanier wanted some land that had been settled by eight missionaries. But they wouldn't sell so he bought guns and hired white men to dress as Indians and massacre the missionaries. If that isn't evil, I don't know what is.” As always, when she thought of injustice of this magnitude, her temper began to rise.

“But if it's only a rumor—”

“It
was
only a rumor. I have proof that he did it. Among other things, I have a bill of sale for rifles. I even heard him talking to one of the ‘Indians' and—”

“Heard him?” Asher said. “Do you mean you eavesdropped?”

“Of course I did. I wore a green dress and hid among the cornstalks. But the point is, I have to get my evidence to the newsman who sent me on this mission and, by my calculations, we're due west of John's office. We need to leave tomorrow morning.”

She watched Asher as he held his hat in his lap and played with the hatband. “Chris, I don't believe your father would want you traipsing across the country accusing men of…of what you're accusing Lanier of. Perhaps when we return to your father's house, he can send your information to this newsman. Until then I think it best that you stay here in safety.”

Chris just looked at him for a moment. She'd grown up with a man like this one, and she'd worked with men like him. He was perfectly sure she was wrong and nothing she said or did was going to change his mind. “I think the fish are done,” she said softly, then watched as he smiled at her in a way that men who'd just won always smiled at women. She returned his smile but it didn't reach her eyes.

She made light, ladylike conversation with Asher while they ate, not once referring to her plans for getting her story to John Anderson. But as soon as they were finished, she stood.

“I think I'll go and see if I can find Mr. Tynan,” she said absently as she started down the path toward the river.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you, Chris,” Asher said. “I'm sure the man would be here if he wanted to be and I'm quite sure that he can feed himself. I think you should sit down and share your lovely company with me.”

Chris didn't know what she hated more in life than being told what she
should
do. It was the source of all her problems with her father. He never tried to reason with her, but just told her what was best for her and expected blind obedience.

She smiled sweetly at Asher. “I think I'll look for our host,” she said and moved so quickly down the path that she didn't give him time to voice a protest. Within seconds, she heard him thrashing about through the forest as he searched for her. Thanking her mother and her ancestors that she was small, she jumped over a fallen log and hid in the ferns until she saw him go by. When she could hear him no more, she walked a short way through the underbrush before finding that it was impossible to go any further due to the fallen logs and the heavy curtain of moss hanging from every possible surface. She went back to the trail again and started toward the water, essentially following Asher. At the top of the little ridge that overlooked the water, she could see him below, frowning and looking annoyed. Smiling to herself, she continued down the trail.

She'd only gone a few feet when all sound was gone. The rain forest gave one the oddest feeling of being totally alone. All around her was green—gray-green, blue-green, green that was almost black, a lime-green, hundreds of shades of the color. And everything was soft. She ran her hand over a fallen log that was covered with a forest of its own in miniature and smiled at its softness.

Ahead were odd formations created of moss and rotted tree trunks. She couldn't hear her own footsteps as she walked.

As she rounded a curve, she gasped, for lying just inches off the path was Tynan, fast asleep. There was a pack near his head and a rumpled blanket under him. He slept as bonelessly as a child and he looked very young. Again, Chris was amazed at the sheer beauty of the man and she had an enormous desire to just sit down and look at him—a desire which she indulged.

She had been sitting there for just moments when he stirred and opened his eyes.

“Chris,” he said with a little smile, then closed his eyes again. A fraction of a second later he sat bolt upright, grabbed his hat and put it low down over his face and looked at her. “Miss Mathison, I thought you were fishing with Prescott.”

“I was until I caught so many more fish than he that he suggested we return to the camp. After that I managed to escape down the path and I found you. Did you enjoy your nap? You certainly deserved it after the way you stayed awake and took care of us.”

Looking like a sleepy boy, he began to rub his eyes and this time, Chris saw that both his wrists were sore. There was also a bruise under his right cheekbone and a half-healed cut above one eye.

“Why don't you come back to the camp and join us? We have more than enough fish. Have you eaten?”

“Yes, thank you, but you ought to go back to the camp. Prescott's probably worried about you.” He stood. “Besides, I need to get to work. I have to scout the trail ahead. I'm sure there're logs that have fallen across it since the last time I was through here.”

“And when was that, Mr. Tynan?”

“Just Tynan, nothing else and certainly no mister,” he said as if he'd said it a hundred times.

Chris rose and moved to stand closer to him. He turned his back to her, removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair, which looked to be damp. She wondered if he'd been bathing. His shirt cuff was unbuttoned and as it fell back, she saw that all the muscles in his forearm, along with the veins, were prominent under his skin. He looked as if he had been starved for a while.

“I don't want to be a troublemaker because I know that you're only doing what my father has hired you to do, but…” She hesitated over using his name. “But, Tynan, I think you could use a few good meals and I insist that you return with me. If you don't, I promise to make this journey very uncomfortable.”

He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it and grinned instead—and Chris felt her knees go weak. His entire face lit up and it flashed through her mind that he could get
any
woman anywhere to do whatever he wanted.

“I can't resist an invitation like that. I'll follow you.”

“No, we shall go together. Tell me, why were you in the forest before? Who made this path?”

“Did you enjoy your fishing expedition with Ash? He seems to be a pleasant man. All the way here he was a great help, nothing was too much for him to do. And he's great with horses and everyone we met liked him. I guess you did too.”

“Well, yes,” she said hesitantly. “How did you meet my father?”

“Ash has known your father for years. It's a wonder you never met him. Ash's father worked his way up and made a lot of money in the east. I'm sure Ash is the same kind of man.”

Chris looked up at Tynan in bewilderment. What in the world was he talking about? But he just smiled at her and, this time, instead of being dazzled, she wondered if he often used that smile to get women to stop talking about whatever he didn't want to hear—or from asking questions that he didn't want to answer.

She smiled back at him but, if he'd known Chris better, he would have known that her glittering eyes showed that she'd just accepted a challenge. She was going to find out who this Tynan—no last name, no first name—was.