Eye of the Beholder

by Ingrid Weaver

  His feet touched bottom. He pulled his sluggish brain back to the here and now. It wasn’t blood, it was a cloud of mud from his feet. Glenna was still wrapped around him. Her hair floated in a thick mass, brushing his face. He anchored her to him with one arm, bent his knees and pushed off.

  They broke the surface together, both gasping for air. Their legs tangled as he treaded water, his heavy boots making swimming awkward. “Are you okay?” Rafe asked.

  She coughed and tossed her head to flick her hair from her eyes. It took a few moments for her to catch her breath. “Yes. Are you?”

  “Sure.” He glanced around to assess their situation, using the time to clear his head.

  They were in a small pool, about twenty yards long and only a few yards wide. It was surrounded on three sides by lush foliage that retched over the water in places and was dense enough to block out the late-day sun. On the fourth side a limestone wall rose into the canopy of trees. Water streamed down the center of the face, turning the stone a glistening dark gray. Clumps of moss and sprays of some yellow flowers swelled from crevices in the rock in a profusion of life.

  The pool must have formed in a fissure in the limestone, Rafe decided, noting the long, narrow shape. Lucky for them that they hit the water when they fell instead of crashing into the trees on the shore.

  Glenna slipped out of his hold and tipped her head back, still breathing hard. She used sweeping movements of her arms to stay afloat.

  He’d been about to ask her if she knew how to swim, but her actions just answered his question. Good. Another nightmare image he could push to the back of his mind. He felt for the strap of his rifle and patted his pockets to make sure he hadn’t lost anything. “Head for the left side of the rock wall,” he said, touching her shoulder. “It looks as if we’ll be able to climb out at the base there.”

  She followed him to the edge of the pool. Rafe grasped the root of a banyan tree and hauled himself past the mud and rocks. When he reached solid ground, he turned around and extended his hand to Glenna.

  She let him pull her out of the water, then released his hand and rolled onto her back with a groan.

  Rafe leaned over her, immediately concerned. “Glenna?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “You did get hurt.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She closed her eyes. “I’m just…tired.”

  He’d known that since they’d started off. He wished he could have carried her, but then they wouldn’t have gotten this far. Once again, he felt a stirring of admiration for her courage. He reached out to stroke her hair from her forehead, but before he could touch her, he paused.

  All day he had touched her. It had been necessary. This wasn’t. And once he started touching her the way he wanted, he wasn’t sure he would have the willpower to stop. He braced his hand on the tree and did a careful survey of their surroundings.

  The pool was completely secluded—they wouldn’t have found this valley if they hadn’t fallen right into it. The rock wall would be good to have at their backs. The dense growth here had blocked the light of the sun, so it would probably hide the glow of a fire. And once darkness fell, the smoke wouldn’t be visible. This might be as good a place as any to call a halt. “All right,” he said. “We’ll stop here for the night.”

  Her chest heaved with a sigh. “Thank you, Rafe.”

  His gaze dropped, caught by her movement. Her wet shirt clung to her breasts, revealing the outline of her bra and the tight nubs of her nipples.

  He had no business noticing. He shouldn’t be remembering how they had tasted of the same tangy sweetness as her perfume. It was useless to think of how they had swelled and hardened as he’d rolled them on his tongue…

  Rafe clenched his jaw and looked away. Damn. He’d thought it would be better once they stopped. Shexhausted. He was in rough shape. But he’d have to be dead not to notice Glenna.

  No, not Glenna. Glenna Hastings Vanderhayden. That mother of hers wouldn’t be inviting a man like him to any of her dinner parties.

  He pushed to his feet too quickly, then had to hang on to a vine that snaked up the trunk of the banyan tree until his head stopped spinning. He turned away. “I’ll go find some wood to build a fire. You need to dry off.”

  Flames licked quietly along the sticks in the shallow pit Rafe had dug, sending flickers of orange over the dark limestone that towered behind them. Exotic smells from plants Glenna couldn’t name mingled with the earthy scents of damp moss and the mat of palm fronds beneath her. There was no wind, but the jungle around them was alive with the rustling of unseen animals. Rafe had already assured her there were no dangerous animals native to this island, but she was thankful for the fire anyway. Amid the strange scents and sounds that came from the darkness around them, the bite of wood smoke and the whispering crackle of the flames was comforting. It was something familiar in a world she didn’t know.

  Glenna closed her eyes, trying to go back to sleep. She’d passed out the moment Rafe had agreed to stop here and had been sleeping on and off since then. She’d never been more exhausted in her life. She needed rest if she was going to keep up with Rafe tomorrow.

  Yet something was dragging her back to wakefulness. Something was wrong.

  She felt a bubble of hysteria at the ridiculousness of the thought. Something was wrong? Where should she start? She was wearing a strange man’s clothes, lying on a mat of leaves in the middle of a jungle, on the run from a drug lord but unable to run…

  Stop it, she told herself. Think of Rafe.

  Of course. Rafe. He’d get her out of this. He’d promised.

  She shifted, seeking the reassurance of Rafe’s warmth. She’d been aware of the moment he’d stretched out behind her. It had been shortly after nightfall. She didn’t remember much, other than being glad that he’d finally taken the time to rest.

  Yet rather than the warmth of Rafe’s solid form, Glenna felt a cool draft on her back. She turned over and stretched out her arm, but her hand closed on empty air.

  She came fully awake with a start. He was gone. That’s what was wrong. That’s why she couldn’t sleep. “Rafe?”

  There was no reply.

  Glenna sat up, looking around the small clearing. There could be a simple reason he wasn’t here. He could have stepped into the trees for some privacy while he relieved himself. He would be back any minute. There was no need to make a big deal of the situation. She knew he wouldn’t leave her.

  But when several more minutes went past with no sign of Rafe, Glenna knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep. She reached for the branch that served as her crutch and used it to get to her feet. She moved to the edge of the circle of firelight. “Rafe?”

  There was a quiet splashing from the direction of the pool. Glenna peered into the darkness. N much moonlight penetrated the forest canopy, but she thought she saw a pale gleam near the edge of the water. She started forward. “Rafe?” she called, raising her voice as much as she dared.

  “Yeah?”

  His reply sounded pinched. Was it from fatigue? She moved closer. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cooling off.”

  By this time her eyes had adjusted to the dimness enough to distinguish the outline of Rafe’s bare shoulders where he stood near the shore. He’d obviously undressed before he’d gone in the water.

  Glenna stopped, her hand tightening on her crutch. Oh, God. He must be naked.

  A part of her—the old Glenna—told her that she should apologize for intruding, turn around and go back to the camp. But why should she? She’d already felt every inch of his body in one way or another. She’d wondered more than once how he’d look without his clothes. They could be caught or killed tomorrow, so why should she worry about propriety?

  She picked her way carefully across the uneven ground, not stopping until her boots began to sink into the moss at the shore. She noticed his black jumpsuit hanging from a tree branc
h. “You seemed hot in that outfit,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to take it off before now.”

  “The heat was better than the scratches.”

  “What scratches?”

  “The ones the brush we walked through would have given me.” He leaned forward to scoop water into his hands and splashed it over his face.

  She watched, fascinated, as a droplet of water trickled down the ridge of Rafe’s spine. He was immersed to his waist, but what she could see of him cleared the last remnants of sleep from her head.

  His body was magnificent. A shaft of moonlight filtered through the trees, dappling his back and his arms, painting silver highlights over the subtle shift of muscle under his skin. He had a warrior’s body, she thought. Taut and toned and powerfully male.

  She wasn’t surprised by the rush of heat she felt. Despite her weariness, she’d been feeling them all day. Each time she’d brushed against him and every time she heard his deep voice, she’d felt twinges of response. Even when he’d held her in his arms during the uncontrolled slide that had plunged them into this very pool, she’d been aware of him.

  “There’s a rock to your left that juts out into the water,” he said over his shoulder. “Since you’re awake, you might as well soak your ankle for a while. It should help the swelling.”

  She glanced around until she saw the spot he described, then sat down and unlaced her boots. She rolled up the bottoms of her pant legs and slipped her feet into the pool.

  The first contact with the water made her gasp.

  “What’s wrong?” Rafe asked immediately, twisting to face her.

  “It’s cold!t didn’t feel this bad when we landed in it.”

  “Sure, it did.”

  “No, it must have cooled down…after…” Her words trailed off as her gaze was caught by his chest. Her throat went dry.

  Oh, he was more than magnificent. It was more than the strength that was so evident in his physique that affected her. It was the memory of how he’d used that strength to carry her and shelter her. And it was the memory of the pleasure he’d given her during those dark, desperate moments before they’d escaped Juarez. She smiled. “It feels good, Rafe. Thanks for the suggestion.”

  “You did well today, Glenna.”

  “Thank you, but you know I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without you.”

  He leaned down and scooped water over the back of his neck. His dog tags clinked softly against their chain. “We’ll set out at daybreak tomorrow. If we can cover the same distance as we did today, we should be able to make the rendezvous point the day after.”

  Her smile faltered. “Another two days of this?”

  “We can’t let up the pace. We won’t be out of Juarez’s reach until we’re off the island.”

  She looked around the pool, wondering if someone was closing in on them in the dark. “Except for that field we crossed when we started out today, I haven’t seen any sign of habitation.”

  “Most of the population is concentrated along the coast. In this area there are only a few scattered subsistence farmers.”

  “How would the local people make a living if they didn’t work for Juarez?”

  “Why?”

  “You said that the police and many of the other people who live on the island could be in the drug business with Juarez. I’m assuming their motive for working for him would be financial.”

  “Sure, it’s financial.” Rafe sank down in the water. He exhaled slowly and leaned back, spreading his arms to keep himself steady. “Fields of coca plants are more profitable than coffee or pineapple.”

  “What if they had an alternative?”

  “Like what?”

  “Tourism, for example.”

  “There isn’t much on this island. No ports big enough for cruise ships. Not even a decent runway at the airport.”

  “That could change with the right investors.”

  “Who? You?”

  “I already told you, Rafe, I’m not rich. I don’t have the funds to invest, but I know people who do.”

  He tipped back his head and sank lower. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “The reason I traveled to Jamaica in the first place was to meet with representatives of a tourist resort. The Winston chain is considering the possibility of acquiring a hotel there, and I had to assess the existing facilites. Anyway, I was thinking about suggesting this island for the new hotel instead.”

  “Why?”

  “Developing the area for tourism would give the local population a legal source of income and would reduce Juarez’s power base. What do you think?”

  He made a grunt that she took for approval.

  “It’s so beautiful here.” She looked around. “I was thinking it could have been pictures on a tourist brochure. As long as the development is done with regard to conserving the island’s ecosystems it could—”

  “Glenna?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m going to get out now.”

  She swung her gaze back to Rafe.

  He had stood up again and was walking toward the shore. Water streamed from his chest, glistening over the ridges of muscle on his abdomen and the lean contours of his hips. He moved without self-consciousness, as if he were completely comfortable with his body and didn’t care whether or not she watched.

  And she did watch. As long as she was able. But just as the dark thatch of hair at his groin inched above the waterline, she dipped her head and put her boots back on. Yes, Rafe had a body that made even a woman on the verge of exhaustion feel aroused, but Glenna knew the bond between her and Rafe was more than that. She respected him too much to sit here and boldly ogle him. How would she feel if the tables had been turned, and he had been the one to watch her bathe naked in the pond…?

  The very idea made her catch her breath. How would she feel? Good. Natural. Alive.

  Her fingers shook too hard to fasten the laces. There were so many other things to fear, she shouldn’t fear these feelings for Rafe. She wasn’t like her father. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. She moistened her lips and looked up.

  But Rafe had already gone past. She had only a glimpse of his back silhouetted against the firelight before he yanked on his clothes, slung his rifle over his shoulder and faded into the darkness.

  It was a strange noise that woke her. Glenna opened her eyes, surprised to realize that dawn had already broken. The fire had burned down to a few smoldering embers. A bird darted through the hazy wreath of smoke that hung in the trees, warbling a high-pitched call. It was answered moments later by a call in the distance.

  Glenna pressed back into Rafe’s warmth. Sometime during the night he had spooned himself around her, his thighs cradling her bottom, his arm draped over her waist. The position had felt so natural that Glenna had been able to sleep more soundly than she’d believed possible.

  He’d said that he wanted to start out at daybreak, but it was already well past that. She glanced down at his hand where it rested against her midriff. His palm was turned upward with his fingers slightly curled. His arm was heavy on her waist and his chest rose and fell against her back in the slow rhythm of deep sleep.

  She wondered if she should wake him. She was reaching for his hand when she spotted the fruit beside the fire pit. Coconuts, mangoes, and some small dark green sphere she didn’t recognize were stacked in a colorful heap. That must have been what he’d been doing after his swim, she thought. He’d gone in search of food to take with them today.

  Her eyes misted. If she thanked him, he would say that it was his job, but he really was the most incredible man. She slipped her hand into his palm, fitting her fingers between his. “Rafe?”

  There was no change in his breathing, no sign that he’d heard her.

  She squeezed his fingers, finally noticing how hot his skin was. She raised her voice. “Rafe? It’s morning.”

  The noise that had awakened her came again. Not a birdcall but a rapid clicking sound. She twisted to look at him.

&nb
sp; His face was drawn. The skin on his good side was as pale as his scars. She focused on his mouth and immediately realized what the sound had been.

  His teeth were chattering.

  “Oh, my God.” She slipped out from under his arm and knelt beside him. She laid the underside of her wrist against his forehead. He was burning up. “Oh, my God. Rafe!”

  His eyelids fluttered. He looked at her blankly for a moment. He blinked twice and his gaze sharpened. He rolled to his back and flung his arm out to grab the rifle from the ground behind him.

  “No, Rafe!” She grasped his shoulders and leaned her weight on him, trying to keep him from getting up. “No one’s here. It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

  He brushed off her weight as if it were nothing and sat up. Tendons stood out along the side of his neck as he clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from clacking. He scanned the clearing, his gun held ready.

  “Rafe, for God’s sake, lie down! You’re ill.”

  He put his index finger against her lips to signal silence. He tipped his head to the side to listen. A full minute passed before he lowered the gun and returned his gaze to hers.

  His eyes were too bright, she thought. “You’re sick,” she said. “You must have caught a chill in the pool.”

  “No.” His voice was scratchy. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t catch a chill.”

  “But you have a fever.” She returned her wrist to his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

  He caught her hand and lowered it. A shudder rippled through him. “I’ll be okay. It’s daylight. Let’s go.”

  “No.”

  “Glenna…”

  “You’re in no shape to go anywhere. Do you want the chill to turn into pneumonia?”

  “It’s not pneumonia.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “My wound.” He braced the rifle butt against the ground and used it to help himself up. He swayed.

  Glenna got to her feet as quickly as she could, propping her shoulder under his arm before he could topple. “Rafe, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

  “We have to keep moving. We can’t stop yet.”