Under Wraps

by Patricia Green

  She struggled to raise her head far enough to yell at him as he climbed out of the wagon. "But Alex, it's true! I swear!"

  He turned back toward her, his face in shadow, so she couldn't tell if he was serious. "If you were my sister, Glee Montrose, and told such a whopping big lie, I'd set your fanny afire. Feel lucky that I'm content to look at you for now. Someone of your experience shouldn't be so prudish anyway."

  "Prudish! Oh! You are the most unpleasant, arrogant, horrible man ever born!"

  She heard him laughing loudly as he broke camp.

  "Merde!" she said, mostly to herself.

  24

  Despite her anger and the uncomfortable position she was forced to maintain, Glee had nothing to do but think. The incredible monotony of yellow-white canvas overhead, the wagon creaking, the steady plodding of the horses were almost hypnotic. She tried to assess her situation, tried to think of some way she could convince Alejandro Pacheco that she now believed his story of abduction completely.

  She was rather ashamed she hadn't fully believed him earlier, but at the same time, there had been no evidence in his favor. It was all rather too much like one of her father's novels.

  And why was Alex's last name so familiar? Where had she heard it before? It was something she should know. It was only as she linked his accent with the name that the answer finally came to mind. The last time she'd heard that particular accent was at the Soutraine's masquerade ball. A tall, dark, attractive man had spoken just the same way. And his name was Pacheco! Manuel Pacheco. Was he in some way related to Alex? Would this help her cause?

  Alex fed her bits of hard bread and cold rabbit at midday, and then let her loose to allow her to relieve herself. Grumbling through the humiliating experience, she wondered briefly, crazily, what he would do if she just kept walking deeper and deeper into the trees. Alex's voice shouting for her return, or else, gave her just enough pause to regain her better senses. This time, she was allowed to sit in the wagon, though she remained tied at the ankles and wrists.

  "Alex, I was thinking…" she began, trying to gauge his mood.

  Unfortunately, he seemed to still be brooding. His response was a grunt of acknowledgement.

  "I met someone in Boston. Someone who was rather a lot like you. His name was Manuel Pacheco. Is he-"

  He glanced over at her then back to the trail. "My brother. Probably going crazy wondering what has become of me."

  "He was concerned, yes."

  "Having met Manuel, you still did not believe me, mujer?" His voice was tight, words clipped. Glee could not help but see the tension in his shoulders and arms.

  "I'm sorry, Alex. I forgot all about him. It was an awful night. I made an utter scandal of myself wearing a scanty little harem costume. And during the evening my cousin Esther's beau recognized me, though my cousin Raymond and I were so sure I'd never be recognized."

  "This Raymond is a bad influence on you. He should have known better than to allow you to appear in Boston society naked."

  "I wasn't naked!" she shouted defensively.

  He looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

  Glee didn't have the nerve to hold his gaze. "Well, not really naked. And it was a prank."

  He grunted.

  "Anyway, I got into quite a bit of trouble over that. But that was the evening I met your brother. He was very nice."

  Those tawny eyes narrowed on her. "How nice?" If Manuel had so much as stolen one kiss, Alex would have to break his jaw.

  Glee gasped. "Alex!"

  "I know my brother, Glee. He has never overlooked a beautiful woman who displays herself like a ripe fruit."

  "I was not on display!"

  Unreasoning anger swept over him. Hakki couldn’t have possibly followed her every moment, preserving her for the Arabian Prince. "You avoid my question. So, were you with him just that one night? Or were there more?"

  "I danced one dance with him! One!"

  Alex pulled the wagon to a stop so that he could turn and scowl down at her. Her eyes were sparking with flaming blue anger as he took her arms and shook her. "And then? Do not lie to me, Glee!"

  She blinked, anger draining from her as incredulity took its place. "Why, you're jealous!"

  He let go and took up the reins again, grinding his teeth as he set the wagon in motion. "Do not flatter yourself."

  "Alex," she said softly, a nice warm glow in her belly. "I did nothing but dance with your brother."

  "Liar," he growled. His gut twisted as his mind conjured up pornographic visions of Glee with his rakish brother.

  Glee shrugged, too pleased with his jealousy to try and convince him. "Have it your way. I'm a slut."

  "Be quiet, mujer, or I'll put you back in the wagon as you were."

  Smiling, Glee retreated into silence.

  That evening, after he'd set up camp, Alex released her hands and ankles, obviously believing, finally, that Glee was no longer trying to trick him with the story of Esteban Garcia's death.

  She sipped at bitter coffee in her tin mug and leaned back against a wagon wheel considering Alex's strong face lit by the flickering firelight. They hadn't spoken for hours. Glee was so pleased to be out of the wagon that she refused to allow Alex's glowering to spoil the clean crispness of the night air, or the silver of the moonlight coming through the trees. "Have we passed Salt Lake then?"

  "Just barely," he responded, his eyes never leaving the fire's glow.

  He was doing his best to ignore her, and it was getting irritating. "Can't you even look at me when you talk to me?"

  He looked, and the heat in his eyes made her wish she'd never spoken. "Be quiet."

  She forced herself to swallow, to breathe. How dare he treat her this way! She'd done nothing wrong! "Stuff! You are insufferable!"

  "And you try my patience."

  She rose and stalked toward the wagon tail. "Your patience! You've torn me away from the people who love me, taken me God-knows-where, and persist in calling me a liar." Her voice roughened. "Oh, how I hate you, Alex Pacheco!"

  Alex's anger snapped. What may have happened with Manuel no longer mattered. She was here, now, with him. And he would have what he wanted of her, his way!

  Glee's breath halted at the feel of heavy, warm hands on her shoulders.

  "Then hate me, chica. Hate me with all your strength. Hate me with trembling lips, and shallow breaths. Hate me with your lips, your hands, your pretty thighs." He turned her and buried his fingers in the shining cascade of her hair, tilting her head up. "Hate me until we die from hating, Glee."

  The hands that were raised to push against his chest, instead gripped the tattered fabric of his shirt as Glee groaned softly. There was no time to remember just how angry she was with Alex Pacheco, as she felt the soft touch of his lips against hers. There was only time to marvel at the surge of itchy sensation that curled in her belly as his tongue flicked against her closed lips, teasing them open.

  Alex's mouth left hers and hovered an inch away. His voice was husky and low. "I want you Glee Montrose; and you want me also. When you can admit that, then, sweetheart, we will die this death we both desire." He pried her fingers from his shirt. "Tonight, we sleep."

  Glee's body felt as though all the air had been let out, and she was angry at her own reaction, a traitorous reaction, to Alex. "You're wrong," she contended sharply.

  He chuckled and lifted her into the wagon bed, following her up moments later. "There are some things that you cannot hide, mi pequeña tigresa, and they make your words false."

  His eyes, golden jewels reflecting the dim fire and moonlight in the wagon, lit upon the peaks of her breasts which formed tiny twin cones at the front of her tattered dress. Embarrassed, Glee's hands moved to rub the telltale evidence away, but only made things worse. She gasped as her palms pressed against sensitized nipples. A quick look at Alex revealed a dangerous mixture of desire and amusement, and scowling, Glee turned away, laying on her side among the blankets of her bedroll.

&nb
sp; To add to her irritation, Alex laughed, and fitted his body up against her back. His left hand moved around her to cup one breast possessively. No amount of pinching and prying would loosen his grip and, mumbling curses, Glee finally gave up trying.

  "Bueno, querida," he whispered against her hair. "Buenos noches."

  Glee lay awake for several more hours, listening to his soft, even breaths, feeling his warm palm on her breast. Her head ached dully, but that pain was minor compared to the killing throb low in her belly. A thousand pictures of Alex flashed through her brain: from her first sight of him sitting chained to the wagon tail, to his anger at her derisive mention of his wife, through their first kiss. Ah, that memory forced her to clamp her jaws together to keep from moaning with remembrance. She recalled the flash of moonlight on his hair that night that she'd crept to the wagon and had nearly given him all of herself. The mental picture of his dark head lowered between her thighs made her squirm and fidget with unfulfilled need.

  Her movements only brought her closer to her nemesis, however, and to her great surprise she could feel the heat and hardness of his maleness pressed against her bottom. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have him pressed to her intimately, skin-to-skin. His scratchy, sleep heavy voice interrupted her erotic musings and his hand moved from her breast to her bottom.

  "Keep wiggling, Glee, and you'll get what you seem to be asking for."

  "You're hateful, Alex Pacheco," she hissed. Glee grabbed at the hand that was caressing her posterior. "Stop it!"

  His breath was hot on her ear. "You will regret those words, pequeña tigresa."

  She snorted her reply, as his hand slid off her body and he rolled to his back. The sudden coolness where the warmth of his body had been was disconcerting, and Glee cursed her own fickleness silently. Regret not having his all-too-upsetting hands on her? Never!

  In another miserable hour, she was asleep.

  25

  Three weeks later, just as they passed the Carson Sink along the Humboldt River, the first heavy snow of the season fell. It began early in the morning and by midday, everything wore a blanket of white as far as the eye could see. The grade of the terrain rose steadily as they headed into the Sierra Nevada Range. Huddled inside the wagon, Glee kept glancing out toward Alex who stoically led the team onward despite the ever deepening snow.

  Alex snuggled with her every night, but she stubbornly ignored him with all of her ability. He seemed to find it amusing, and, with infinite patience, only chuckled and fell asleep.

  "Alex," she called. "Shouldn't we stop 'till the storm passes?"

  He shook his head. "No. I do not believe the pass is much farther. If we lose any more time we'll become stranded there. We must continue."

  Glee donned a leather duster and her Stetson, tucking her plaited hair beneath it. She scrambled over crates and trunks and joined Alex on the bench of the wagon.

  "You should stay inside, sweetheart, where it is warmer," he told her.

  "I wanted to talk to you, and didn't want to shout," she explained. The quiet of the soft snow was broken only by the creak of the wagon. The silence was thick.

  Alex glanced at her when she didn't speak. "You are not often at a loss for words, Glee. Are you well?"

  "I'm all right, Alex." Again she hesitated.

  His gloved hand left the traces to cover hers. "This snow is not so bad. We have much food, and I will hunt a bit more tonight. There is firewood stored in the wagon, and enough fodder for the horses I think. We will come through."

  She took hold of the hand he offered. "This is all my fault, Alex. All of it. They told me in Saint Joseph that it was too late to get started. I was just too stubborn to listen."

  He grinned boyishly. "An apology? From Glee Montrose? Are you sure that you are well, chica?"

  "Oh, stuff! You really are unbearable!"

  * * * *

  The next five days were alternately snowing and blowing. They slowed to a snail's pace it seemed, the horses and wagon becoming bogged down in deep drifts all too frequently. Finally, on December 5, they realized that they couldn't make it over the pass until the weather let-up. If it let up before spring.

  Chapter 26

  "We are not likely to be bored," Alex pointed out wryly as he dropped the last trunk, filled with Glee's books, onto the silt of the cave floor.

  Attempting to put a little order to things, Glee looked up from wooden cases of their food-stuffs. She tried to sound hopeful, but only managed a monotone. "How long do you think we'll be forced to stay here, Alex?"

  The big man shrugged, a ripple of thick muscle which caused Glee to turn back to her task with a slight flush. "I do not know. Perhaps three weeks, perhaps one, perhaps until spring arrives." He walked over to her and reached out to touch her hair, rubbing the red-gold locks between his fingers. His voice was low when he spoke. "Are you afraid, querida?"

  Glee tried to ignore the subtle heat and man-smell of him so close behind her, though the timbre of his voice sent a frisson up her spine. "Should I be?" With an effort, she kept sorting cans of beans and black-eyed peas.

  He laughed. "Si. You should be, but not of me. I think you frighten yourself."

  "And if I disagree?" she whispered.

  She could feel him moving away. There was the chinking of the horses' tack. "You fool yourself, mujer."

  Glee glanced over her shoulder and watched Alex's broad frame loaded down with tack retreat into the back of the large labyrinthine cave. Any comment she might have made died on her lips.

  It wasn't such a bad set-up, really. The cave was quite large—a natural shelter set among tons of granite and quartz, much like a bubble within formerly molten rock. It had a deep, low-ceilinged main cavern, and at least three smaller high-ceilinged side caverns big enough to house the team of horses.

  They chose to put the horses in one side cavern, though it was a struggle. Keeping a small torch in the otherwise pitch-black cavern helped considerably while the horses acclimated. Food, wood, and other necessaries fit nicely in another cavern, and they set up their living space in the third. Although it was smoky, a fire was possible in their "living" space, and it became quite cozy in spite of the blizzard outside.

  Glee caught herself humming a jolly tune as she dished out beans and rabbit onto tin plates for Alex and herself. The absurdity of the situation, and perhaps her nervous fear of being stranded in the Sierra mountains forever, made her cease the gay vocalization abruptly. She ignored Alex's questioning look and sat down to eat her supper. The silence stretched on, broken only by the tink and scratch of their eating utensils on the tin plates and the occasional echoing snort of the horses.

  When Alex began to remove his shirt, Glee stood up abruptly. "What are you doing?"

  He glanced at her, but didn't re-clothe himself. "I am going to wash. Though I may occupy a cave, niña, I am not a bear." Chuckling at his own joke, he dipped a bandana in the pot of warm, melted snow which sat by the fire and began rubbing his chest vigorously.

  Glee blushed heatedly and turned away with discomfort. "I wish you wouldn't, Alex."

  "You like my stink, eh?"

  "I didn't say that!" She could feel him shrugging.

  "You would not be the first woman to admit it, sweetheart." His voice was slightly muffled by the bandana moving over his face. "You will not be the last either, I suppose."

  "Oh, really! Ahmak! You are the most arrogant, vaniteux, perverse-"

  "Tell me about Constantinople," he interrupted, taking the steam out of her tirade.

  Glee turned abruptly, and saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and curve of his cheeks as he grinned.

  "Hmph!" Ignoring the heated blush which she could feel rising up her cheeks, Glee chose to stare him down. "What do you want to know?"

  "Whatever you wish to tell me, of course."

  "It is hot. The Sultans have all the power, and everyone else has none. Nothing else would interest you, Alex."

  "Do yo
u think me so shallow then?"

  Guilt warred with defensiveness on her face for a moment before Glee nervously pushed a strand of hair from her forehead and decided to go with guilt. "No. I'm sorry."

  Alex nodded. "You might start by telling me what Turkish epithets you just threw at me. The French for 'conceited', I understood."

  Glee had the grace to look sheepish. "Ahmak means 'nitwit'—and... and I didn't really mean it. "

  "Hmph." He dipped the bandana again in the warm water and approached. Glee moved to take it from him, but he gently pushed her hand away and wiped the smudges from her face, pausing at the blush of her cheek. "So many languages, mi corazón. How do I say, 'woman' in Turkish?"