by Sharon Ihle
Careful to hide this newest anguish from Dimitri, Shylo turned away from the face she'd grown to love and finished dressing.
Chapter 15
Over the next five days Shylo and Dimitri took a variety of buggies and local steam lines to the tide pools located in Pacific Beach, La Jolla, and their personal favorite, Ocean Beach. That area was served by the Ocean Beach Motor Railway, which more often than not got stuck in the mud. When it did run, it went from the eastern banks of San Diego Bay across its headland, Point Loma, then on to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. The little steamer dropped passengers off near a nice flat, sandy beach, but Shylo and Dimitri preferred to take the short but incredibly beautiful walk south to a long expanse of majestic sandstone cliffs.
Shylo likened the view of the ocean there to sitting on top of the world and always insisted that she and Dimitri stop for a spell before descending the treacherous cliffs. Twice now they'd been privileged to view truly awesome sunsets from that spot, with the sky tinged in colors ranging from canary yellow to pumpkin to crimson, all within the space of a few minutes. If the clouds were just right, as they had been the night before, an incredibly beautiful shade of pink began the display, filling the sky with streaks of color not unlike the shade of Cassie's hair.
Perhaps, Shylo thought as she removed her shoes and left them lying on the sandy beach, they could all come back tonight for one last sunset, Cassie and Ari included. Tomorrow the packet carrying Colleen Pappas would arrive from Ensenada, and after that opportunities like this would be rare, if they occurred at all. In fact, everything would change—including the role she'd been playing as Dimitri's "wife."
Her heart suddenly heavy, Shylo glanced over to where Dimitri was already poking around in a group of rocks carpeted with bright green surfgrass. How she would miss him. Dimitri had taught her much over the past two weeks, and not simply in the bedroom. She'd experienced more of the world and its wonders during this period than throughout her entire life. More than she'd ever dreamed was possible. And all because of him.
As she started for the water's edge to join him, she thought back through the last few days. She and Dimitri had acted like a pair of carefree children, romping together and delighting in each day as it dawned with nary a thought for tomorrow or the possible heartbreak it might bring. They spent their daylight hours combing San Diego's endless tide pools, venturing into dark little sea caves, and cavorting on her pristine beaches; the nights, exploring each other. During that time, the vast emptiness inside of her had quietly closed up somehow, shrunk to the size of a little ball. Maybe, she dared to hope, after the packet arrived tomorrow, that vacuous hole would disappear altogether, and at last she would feel whole.
"Hey," Dimitri called to her over the ocean's roar.
Shylo glanced toward the rocks and saw that he was waving his arms and pointing at her legs. She glanced down at herself, amazed to find that she'd waded into the ocean way beyond the surf line and was standing in chilly seawater up to her knees.
"Oh, Lord," she cried, pulling her hems out of the foamy brine as Dimitri made his way to her. "I've gone and made a mess out of my new riding skirt—again. I think the salt water has ruined it this time."
Unconcerned about his—or her—clothes, Dimitri waded out to where Shylo stood. Laughing, he gathered her into his arms. "You are a very silly kouti to worry so over a dress."
"A cootay?" She could see by the glimmer in his dark eyes and the depth of his dimples that he was teasing her, so she faked a pout. "There you go calling me bad names again, and I can't even understand what you're saying."
"I am saying that you are... " Dimitri tapped her forehead. "Kouti means like you are having no brains—but only in the kindest way, of course."
"Saying that I have no brains doesn't sound very kind to me." She slapped at his chest. "I said that I'm sorry about the dress. I really didn't mean to ruin it."
"No, no, you misunderstand. I don't care about dresses. When we return to Greece, I'll buy you a hundred more dresses if that is your wish. What I care about, what I wish for, is to see you smile and the enthusiasm you have for everything—even when it is my work, not yours. Katalaves?"
"Katalaves," she whispered back, using a Greek word for the first time. "I understand very well."
Loving the sound of his native language spoken from Shylo's lips, Dimitri cupped her sun-kissed cheeks between his palms and stared deeply into her sky blue eyes. The briny aroma of summer-baked seaweed and ocean flotsam swirled all around them, and from behind, waves crashed down in rhythmic sequence, slapping foam against the backs of his jeans. Seagulls and cormorants fought noisy battles overhead, struggling for the best morsels of crab, mussels, and tube snails that inhabited the rocks he'd been investigating earlier.
But Dimitri didn't feel, hear, or smell anything but Shylo. He saw nothing but her and in every way imaginable. Not only was she here in his arms, but now he could actually picture her at primitive excavation sites, not simply as a helper or a wife at his side, but as someone who would share his enthusiasm for the work. Someone who might possibly come to love the somehow comforting aroma of dank earth and ancient dust as much as he did.
Shylo tapped his shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. "I think we—"
"Shush." He wouldn't let anything so earthy as words interfere with his deep thoughts or the sublime way he was feeling at this moment. "Don't talk right now."
"But, Dimitri—"
Determined to preserve the mood, he silenced Shylo with a surprise kiss, a display that was filled with as much hope as passion. A split second later something huge and powerful slammed into the middle of his back, taking both him and Shylo on a headfirst somersault into the surf.
Lost and confused at first, Dimitri opened his mouth to cry out—only to have it filled with salt water and sand. When he surfaced, he was choking and sputtering. "Shylo? Shylo—where are you?"
Another wave hit him, this one far less imposing but big enough to bury him once again beneath a mass of water and kelp. This time when Dimitri got his legs under him, he dug his bare feet into the sand and waded through the strong current until he was out of harm's way. He would be no use in saving Shylo if he drowned. After wiping the sting from his eyes with the backs of his hands, he spotted her sitting on a dry stretch of beach just ahead. She was laughing so hard she had to hang on to her tummy.
"So then," he said, gasping and out of breath as he reached her. "You think the fact your husband almost drowned is funny?" He shook his dark head, sprinkling Shylo with the excess water, and then dropped down beside her.
"I tried to warn you," she said, still laughing. "I saw this really huge wave building up behind you, but when I started to tell you about it, you wouldn't listen. You kissed me instead."
"In that case, I would say my near death was worth it." Dimitri glanced out at the churning ocean, saw a black dot floating away to infinity beyond the incoming waves, and added, "Except for the hat."
"Hats." Shylo pointed to the formerly attractive straw bonnet lying beside her, now resembling a cross between an enormous sand dollar and a soggy pancake.
Dimitri burst into laughter, then took stock of Shylo's wet clothes. Because the morning was unusually warm, she'd left her jacket behind and wore only a plain white blouse with her riding skirt—a garment, now that it was soaked, that had become almost transparent and revealed more of her than it covered.
"We're in a hell of a mess," he said, still chuckling. "I can't take you back to town looking like that, so I guess we'll just have to sit here until we dry out." His gaze raked her breasts, particularly the way her taut nipples jutted out, and his amused expression evolved into something far more carnal. "I can sure think of a lot better things to do to pass the time than just sit. Too bad this is a public beach."
"We're not very far from that sea cave we found the other day." She gave him a coy grin and started drawing figure eights in the warm sand. "Want to go... exploring?"
Not
entirely certain what she was suggesting, he asked, "And what are we looking for?"
She shrugged but kept her grin. "I thought we could examine the boulders scattered around in that dark, dark cave."
"Oh, yes," he said, his groin springing to life. "The very dark cave. Now I remember it. And what did you say about the rocks inside?"
"I was just thinking that if we were to find a boulder, oh, about yea high"—she held her hand up and measured off a foot—"and I stepped up on it, that ought to bring my hips up level with yours. I could slip out of these wet things, and then we could..." Shylo ran her tongue along her bottom lip. "Well, ah... you know, in the dark."
"In the dark," he repeated.
"Umm, yes, and standing up like that, we wouldn't have to worry about getting all sandy, either."
Although by now he was burning with need, Dimitri managed to keep an impassive expression. "I think you were right the other day to have called yourself a wicked, nasty woman. If you're suggesting what I think you are, you most surely will go to hell for it."
Shylo wasn't certain that he was kidding. "You think so?"
He nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes. You will absolutely go to hell. You're just lucky to have married a true gentleman like me." "And why is that?"
"Because I would never allow you to go to such a terrible place unaccompanied. Now where did you say that cave is located?"
* * *
Later that afternoon, after their clothes had dried and they'd found what they needed in the cave, Shylo and Dimitri returned to the Horton House Hotel. He'd insisted that they keep the honeymoon suite, and since Ari had been quite successful in his new venture thus far, the extravagance was no longer beyond their financial means.
As they walked down the hall toward their room, a supremely happy Shylo swung a bucket filled with treasures she'd collected during the day—a dried-up sea star, a perfectly formed sand dollar, and shells of every description. Thinking she heard a high-pitched squeal, she suddenly came to a halt in midswing.
She glanced at Dimitri. "Did you just hear a scream or something like that?"
He paused and cocked his head. "No. Perhaps you—"
Again came the sound, this time louder.
Recognizing something in the tone, Shylo dropped her bucket. "My God. That's Cassie."
Then, before he could stop her, she ran across the hall, yanked open the door, and rushed inside the room. Dimitri followed right on her heels, into utter chaos.
Cassie was lying on her back in the center of her bed. She was fully dressed but struggling with a man who was obviously trying to relieve her of that attire. Dimitri intended to beat the stranger to a bloody pulp, but before he could make a move he saw Shylo fling herself onto the assailant's back.
"Get off her," she screamed as she wrestled with the man. "Get off, you dirty bastard."
Shylo clawed at his face, and then clamped her knees around his hips as if breaking a wild mule. "Let her go, you son of a bitch, or I swear, I'll kill you."
One of her fingers found the corner of his eye, and she gouged at it, drawing a bellow of pain from the man. He abruptly rolled over, trying to dislodge his "rider," but Shylo remained strapped firmly to his back. When he rolled again, the two of them fell off the bed and hit the floor with a bone-crunching thump.
Shylo groaned, but even though she'd banged her head against the bedpost and the man had landed heavily on her right knee, she continued to pound on him with both fists and kick at him anywhere she could reach. Through the din of Cassie's sobs, the stranger's howls, and her own shouted curses, Shylo picked out Dimitri's voice—and he didn't sound happy at all.
"Damn it, Shylo—if you don't get off that man this minute, I swear I'll make you eat wood." He hunkered down and wrapped his big hand around her arm. "Now go off."
Suddenly more afraid of her husband than the man she'd pummeled so thoroughly, Shylo loosened her hold on the stranger and crawled away from him. Her hair had come unbound and stuck out in every direction, one of the sleeves on her blouse was torn at the shoulder, and she was gasping for breath.
But all and all, she figured as she glanced behind her, she looked pretty good compared with the son of a bitch who'd attacked her sister. Her fingernails had clawed three grooves down the side of his face, leaving bloody trails, one of his eyes was puffed shut, and both his hands were holding on to his crotch for dear life. Dimitri grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt then and hoisted him to his feet. When the stranger winced with pain, Shylo even managed a little smile. Served the dirty bastard right, she thought. Then Cassie's cries caught her attention, and gaining revenge on her sister's attacker didn't seem so important .
"I'm here, Cassie," she said, gingerly getting to her feet. "Everything's going to be all right now."
Her knee throbbing, Shylo hobbled toward her sister in order to comfort her, but as she reached the edge of the mattress, a sobbing Cassie rolled to the other side and leapt off the bed.
Then she darted to where Dimitri held the man pinned against the wall and cried, "Oh, please don't hurt him. He didn't do nothing wrong."
Assuming the girl was hysterical and didn't know what she was saying, Dimitri increased his grip around the man's throat and said, "How would you like your face in the wallpaper, you son of the biggest bastard?"
The pressure against his Adam's apple was so great all Buck could manage was a strangled gurgle.
"Oh, God in heaven," cried Cassie as she finally glimpsed the damage visited on the man she loved. "What have they gone and done to you? You're all bloody," Her wails increased. "Oh, Bucky, I'm so-o-o sorry."
Dimitri shot her an incredulous look. Bucky?
Shylo, who'd joined them by now, had heard Cassie as well. "Bucky? You know this fella, Cassie?"
"Yes, I do." She tugged on Dimitri's sleeve, pinching the flesh beneath it. "Turn him loose this instant. You're killing him."
Dimitri removed one of his hands from the boy's throat, reached into his holster, and "borrowed" his gun. Then he released the young man and stepped back but kept the weapon level with "Bucky's" navel.
His voice impatient, Dimitri said, "Somebody better start to explaining."
"That's a hell of a fine idea." Hands on hips, Shylo looked directly at her sister. "Why don't we start with you?"
Cassie and Buck exchanged worried glances, then she dropped her gaze to the floor. "This here's Buck Dilly. He's a... a good friend of mine."
"Yes," Shylo agreed. "I would say from the looks of it when I saw you two together on the bed, that you and Bucky-boy here are very good friends."
More defiant now, Cassie looked up at her sister. "We wasn't doing nothing wrong—just horsing around a little, you know, playing catch-me."
"Nothing wrong? 'Catch me'?" When—and how—had Cassie possibly come to this? Shylo wondered. And right under her very own nose, no less. "How long have you known this fella?" she demanded. "And while we're on the subject, exactly where did you meet him?"
Again Cassie glanced at Buck. "He, ah, we've known each other for... a spell, I guess."
"A spell." Shylo's temper was rising like a high tide. "What's that mean? Back in New York? On the farm? What? When? Where?"
Cassie began to cry.
Buck, ready to sacrifice anything for his sweetheart if need be, took the burden of answering from her. "We met on the train."
Dimitri narrowed his gaze at the young man. "I don't recall seeing you in the parlor car."
Buck swallowed hard, rattling his Adam's apple. "No, sir, you did not. I wasn't exactly a passenger. I was working for the, uh, fellas that, uh... well, they robbed the train."
Dimitri muttered a curse in Greek.
Shylo gasped and clasped her heart. "You—you're saying that you're one of those no-good outlaws?"
"Yes, ma'am, but I want you to know that I've done quit the life."
"That's right," said Cassie, her confidence restored enough by Buck's bravado for her to walk in front of Dimitri's weapon a
nd put her arms around her lover. "But you'd better watch out how you talk to him, retired or not, 'cause this here's none other than Dilly the Kid. Once he gets work of a more legal-type nature, we're going to get married."
Dimitri, who felt more foreign than ever, wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he suddenly felt foolish training a gun on the girl and her intended. He slid the barrel of the weapon into the waistband of his jeans and glanced at Shylo. She was staring at the outlaw, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with horror. Odder yet, her lips were moving, but no sound could be heard.
"Perhaps," Dimitri suggested, feeling awkward and intrusive, "we should go and leave these young people to themselves."
"No." Shylo faced her husband. "I think it'd be better if you and..." She could hardly force herself to say his name. "Buck went downstairs and left me and Cassie to talk about this, ah, woman to woman."
"And what," asked Dimitri, none too pleased by any of the goings-on, "do you suggest I do with this outlaw downstairs? Haul him off to the sheriff—or perhaps take him to see our new friend, Wyatt Earp?"
Buck's good eye bulged. "Wyatt Earp is, is... here in San Diego?"
"Yes, he is." Dimitri smiled. "He is my very good friend. I'm sure he'd like to meet a train robber so famous as Dilly the Kid."
Releasing her grip on the man she loved, Cassie spun around to face Dimitri. "But you can't turn Buck in. He didn't do nothing wrong 'cause he never got around to no actual robbing. He was too busy carting me off the train."
"Cart—" Shylo could hardly believe her ears. "You mean to tell me this is the very man who kidnapped you back in Winslow?"
Cassie shrugged. "Sort of, but not really. He didn't force me to go 'cause I was passed out at the time."
Shylo staggered backward a step, reeling with the shock of it all. She had an overwhelming sense that not just her plans but her entire life was crumbling down around her shoulders. As these sensations washed over her, they nearly knocked her off her feet as effectively as the wave had earlier in the day.