by Lyn Horner
“Wait, I can’t ride him,” Josie said, hanging back, trying to tug her hand free. “He’s too tall.”
Chuckling, he refused to let go. “Do not worry, señorita, I will not let you fall off Cezar’s back.”
“What? Are you saying I’m to ride with you?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“That is precisely what I am saying. It will be far more comfortable for you than bumping along on that wretched creature.” He tilted his head toward the mule. “Do you not think so?”
“No! I don’t think any such thing. I’m not riding with you.” She tossed her head indignantly and stuck out her hand. “Give me the blanket. I’ll pad my saddle with it and I’ll be fine.”
A muscle ticked along his square jaw. “You are stubborn and full of pride, but you will not win this battle, chiquita.”
CHAPTER THREE
Josie slumped against Valdez, sitting crosswise in his lap. His arm supported her back, his hand curved around her waist. Beneath her, the folded blanket cushioned her sore bottom.
Infuriated by his highhanded decree that she ride with him, she’d resisted when he hoisted her onto his horse. He’d gripped her leg to prevent her from jumping off and, stepping up behind her, had easily subdued her with his iron-hard arm around her midriff.
“You will only exhaust yourself by fighting me,” he’d told her.
Knowing he was right, she had stopped struggling but sat rigidly erect at first. She’d lasted maybe a half hour before the constant motion of the horse and her complaining muscles forced her to relax. Later, they’d stopped briefly again to rest the horses and mules and eat a lunch of jerky and water. Except for that, Valdez had kept them moving all day.
The temperature steadily dropped as they climbed higher and minutes ago they’d entered a belt of fog, obscuring visibility to a few feet ahead. The damp, cool air raised goose bumps on Josie’s skin, making her shiver and hug herself.
“Welcome to the cloud forest, my dear,” Valdez said, rubbing her arms through the cotton material of her shirt. She thought of pushing his hands away but they were big and warm and his touch gentle.
“The cloud forest? You mean it’s always like this?”
“Sí, the clouds hang low to the ground at this altitude. Because the air is so moist, it’s perfect for moss and epiphytes to grow.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Epiphytes? I hope they’re not snakes.”
He laughed softly. “No, they are plants that grow upon other plants, such as trees. They do not need soil to root. They draw moisture and nutrients from the air and rain without harming their host plant. Orchids are the best known epiphytes. Look carefully and you will see many varieties.”
Josie peered into their misty surroundings. Sure enough, she spotted several brightly colored orchids peeking out from moss-draped tree branches. “So pretty,” she murmured.
“Sí, there is great beauty here and in all the forest, what is left of it. Much has been lost to land developers, mining interests and the like.” Valdez sighed and grimly added, “But sooner or later they will pay. In Colombian folklore, the forest and the animals it shelters are protected by Madremonte, mother of the forest. You would call her Mother Nature. It is said she does not forgive those who bring destruction to her realm.”
Josie tilted her head back and gave him a fish-eyed glare. “Yeah? How does this Madremonte feel about guys who kidnap innocent women in her realm?”
He grinned, slashing grooves framing his mouth. “I cannot say, Señorita Tseda. I have never before kidnapped an innocent woman.” He laughed low in his throat. “Nor do I believe I have done so today.”
“Oh! You, you skunk!” Straightening abruptly, she jerked away from him. Her sudden, violent movement startled the horse, making the bay shake its head and dance sideways, rocking Josie forward. She started to topple off and yelped in fright. Valdez’s arm shot out to catch her below her breasts. She gasped and unconsciously locked her hands around that steely band as he hauled her safely back against him.
At the same time, he mouthed a flow of soothing Spanish to the horse. Once the gelding settled down, Josie grew conscious of her captor’s arm beneath her breasts and how his hand cupped the side of one full mound. Then she realized her own hands still clutched his arm in a death grip. She instantly released him but he did not loosen his hold or remove his hand from her breast.
“You can let go of me now,” she said.
“And allow you to fall and be injured should you become angry again?” He tisked in disapproval. “No, no, that I cannot do.”
“Mister, either move your hand or lose some skin,” she gritted, fingernails poised over his bare wrist.
He arched his brows in challenge but lowered his hand to her waist. “You are una pequeña tigresa, a little tigress full of fire and fight. It would be my pleasure to tame you if I could but trust you.”
“You and who else, tough guy? And I told you not to call me little.”
He shrugged. “But you are petite. Is this a bad thing?”
“It is when all the other women in my family are tall. Makes me the runt of the litter,” she grumbled. Why she told him that, she didn’t know.
“I see. But surely you are the most beautiful one in your family,” he murmured, adding a playful grin.
Caught off guard by his flattery, Josie stared into his moss-green eyes. He thought her beautiful, even in her disheveled condition? Her heartbeat quickened and a warm flush crept up her throat into her face. Then reality struck like a jet of icy water.
Whoa there, girl. He’s just trying to soften you up so he can worm whatever information he thinks you’re hiding out of you. Scowling at the thought, she accused, “First you kidnap me, then you sweet-talk me. What’s your game?”
“I play no game,” he said sharply, all playfulness gone. “You are the one who came seeking me, invading my space as you Americans say. What is your game?”
“My game is to keep my promise to Lara. Which I can’t do stuck on this mountain, and when you won’t even let me finish telling you why she sent me here.” She crossed her arms and turned her face away, staring into the fog-shrouded trees.
After a brief silence, Valdez said, “Very well, tell me the rest now.”
Josie hesitated, unwilling to open up to him just to be shot down again. But she had to try. Sighing, she brushed back strands of hair that had escaped her braid, tucked them behind her ear and met his gaze. “All right, but you have to agree to hear me out.”
He nodded. “I give you my word.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. Choosing her words carefully, she said, “As I told you last night, Lara and Michaela both narrowly escaped the Hellhounds. Michaela is staying with my father in … in a secret location. My friend Dev, who flew down here to help me search for you, headed back yesterday to make sure Michaela is safe. Meanwhile, Lara and Conn, my other friend, were preparing to leave for New York when I left to come down here. They were planning to contact another Guardian. She’s a nurse. I … I don’t recall her name, but you must know her, don’t you?”
“Do I?” His closed expression revealed nothing.
Frowning, she continued, “Lara is certain you and the others are being hunted by the Hellhounds, and she’s afraid they will track her down eventually. She needs all of you to stand with her against them.”
“Ah, now we come to the reason you have sought me out. You are to convince me to join her and bring a certain item with me, no doubt,” he said dryly, with a lift of one dark eyebrow.
Choosing to ignore his stinging tone, Josie nodded. “Yes, and I’m to fly you there to meet her.”
His eyes widened. “You are a pilot?”
She grinned at his astonishment. “Sure am. I flew helos in Afghanistan. That’s how I met Conn and Dev. They were Special Forces. I plucked them and their pals out of some tight situations. Now I’ve got my own whirlybird and a crop dusting business.”
“I see. And you flew your helicopter all the w
ay down here from the States?”
“Yeah, with a few stops to refuel, of course.”
“Of course. And where is this bird of yours now?”
“It’s stashed somewhere safe.” She refused to confide the location until he trusted her to take him to Lara. Trust worked both ways. She couldn’t risk him sending one of his men to move the Firebird, her pride and joy, to where she’d never find it. The helo was her ticket home, not to mention her way of making a living.
He narrowed his eyes and studied her doubtfully for a moment. Then he looked away, evidently thinking over everything she’d said. A short while later, the trail took a sharp turn. The sound of rushing water caught Josie’s ear and soon a silvery, fast moving stream became visible through the misty fog, making her tense.
“Are we crossing that?” she asked, voice rising.
“Sí, but the river is narrow and not very deep this high in the mountains. We will have no trouble.”
“I hope not. I can’t swim.” Drowning was her greatest fear, even more so than being snakebit. With good reason.
Valdez chuckled. “No swimming is necessary, but if it was, Cezar would do it, not you or I.” They reached the river’s edge and he clucked his tongue, urging the horse forward. The bay stepped into the surging stream.
Heart pounding frantically, Josie clutched the saddle horn with a sweating palm. Unknowingly, she curled the fingers of her other hand into Valdez’s shirt.
He gave her a light squeeze. “Be at ease, chiquita. There is no need to fear.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said. However, she soon realized he was right. The narrow river was really nothing more than a creek at this point in its descent from the snowcapped mountains. Although the water ran swiftly, it reached only to the gelding’s knees. Cezar easily crossed to the far bank. Still, Josie breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped onto dry land.
“There, you see, nothing to it,” her captor said in an amused tone.
Her gaze zoomed to his face. Seeing his lips twitch, she snapped, “You think it’s funny that I’m afraid of drowning?”
Sobering, he shook his head. “No, but I do wish you had trusted my word when I said there was no danger.”
“Trust is a two way street, señor,” she snapped, voicing her earlier thought.
Mouth hardening into a thin line, he dipped his head in agreement. “So it is, Señorita Tseda. Gracias for reminding me of that.” His light eyes bored into hers, making clear he certainly did not trust her.
Her breath hitched. Dreading his plans for her when they reached their destination, she chose not to goad him any further. Clearly he didn’t believe a word she’d told him and she could guess the methods he might use to force his idea of the truth from her. She turned her gaze aside and they reverted to their previous silence.
The winding trail narrowed as they climbed out of the cloud forest. At times they overlooked dizzying drops past the clouds to the valley below, making Josie’s heart pound once more, but she gritted her teeth and refused to show fear in front of Valdez again. He and his men seemed perfectly at ease. Their surefooted mounts negotiated the steep path as if born to it, and after a while Josie relaxed, trusting them, if not the riders.
With the passage of hours and the constant motion of the horse, she grew drowsy, finding it harder and harder to stay awake. Finally, she gave up the fight.
*
Gabriel studied the woman asleep in his arms. He had tucked his blanket around them both a while ago to ward off the high country cold. Her face nestled against his chest. Lashes the same raven hue as her lustrous hair fanned out across tawny cheeks tinted rose by the chilly air. She looked young and vulnerable, so different from the fierce demeanor she exhibited when awake.
How much of her story was true and how much a lie to ensnare him? Was Malcolm Flewellyn, the venerable High Guardian, really dead? Had Malcolm’s niece Lara taken his place and sent this unlikely emissary in search of him? Or was she one of the evil ones she called Hellhounds?
Scowling, Gabriel knew he dared not trust her, as she had unwittingly reminded him. He needed a way to determine if she spoke the truth and concluded force wasn’t the answer. She was such a feisty, strong-willed little thing that he feared she would resist to the end, and the thought of hurting her sickened him. Perhaps there was a better way.
He was strongly attracted to her and sensed she felt the same toward him. Why not use that attraction to seduce the truth out of her? It could prove very enjoyable, he thought with a grin. Sí this was a good plan, one he would put into action once they reached his mountain haven tomorrow. Provided they did not cross paths with any guerrilleros, that is. They had been very lucky thus far. He hoped their luck would hold.
Evening approached swiftly. Calling a halt in a narrow clearing – merely a wide spot along the trail – near a trickle of water that ran down the stony embankment, he brushed his fingers across his prisoner’s satiny cheek.
“Time to awake, chiquita,” he murmured.
Her eyes fluttered open, looking drowsily into his. She sighed softly and smiled, causing him to lift his eyebrows and breathe in sharply. Then she came fully awake. Her welcoming smile instantly disappeared. Stiffening, she sat up and scowled.
“Why the frown? It was my pleasure to serve as your pillow.” His comment drew a doubting look from her, to which he smiled warmly.
She blinked and glanced around. “Where are we? Is this your … your hideout?”
“No, it is merely a convenient stopping place for the night. We will arrive at our hideout as you call it tomorrow.”
“And then what?”
“Why, then we shall see if your rather improbable tale is true or false.” Hearing her breath catch and feeling her tense, he quickly added, “You need not be afraid. I have no intention of beating the truth out of you.”
“That’s big of you,” she said sarcastically, but he noticed she relaxed.
“For now, you will eat and rest.” With that, he lowered her to the ground. He waited to make sure she was steady on her feet. When she stepped away, he dismounted and led Cezar to a patch of good grass.
He unsaddled and wiped down the gelding with the bloody, ruined shirt he’d removed last night. Then he assisted Berto in setting up the señorita’s small red tent. As he worked, his gaze often strayed to her as she helped gather wood for a fire and prepare food. Her movements were graceful, her womanly curves pleasing to his eyes. He imagined her lying naked within the tent that carried her scent, with her raven hair freed from its braid and spread around her like a silk fan. His groin throbbed in reaction to the erotic vision.
Silently cursing his lusty thoughts and treacherous body, Gabriel shot to his feet, ordered Berto to finish the job and strode up the wooded slope, away from Josie Tseda. His plan to seduce her could backfire if he wasn’t careful. She was a temptress, a Lorelie. If she was after the scroll he guarded, she might try to lure him into breaking the promise he’d given his mother as she lay dying – later repeated before the Comhairle, the High Guardian’s council. He had vowed to protect the scroll that had been in his mother’s family for eons with his life, and privately to avenge her death. He must not allow a pretty gringa to turn him from his sworn path.
*
Josie lay awake thinking of Gabriel Valdez. He’d ignored her during the evening meal and afterward. When she asked permission to step into the bushes, he’d nodded curtly and directed Berto to go with her, for her own safety, he’d said in a wooden tone. Turning as red as a ripe tomato, her former guide had dutifully accompanied her, standing with his back turned until she was ready to return to camp. If she’d been attacked by a wild animal, she doubted Berto would have been any help.
After that, she had zipped herself into her tent without waiting for an order from Valdez. Not that she was sleepy. How could she be after snoozing in his arms for God knows how long? What an idiot! She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep so trustingly. You’re losing it, Josie Tseda. I
f you don’t watch it, he’ll be crawling into your sleeping bag next.
Her restless thoughts darted to his reaction when she revealed the main purpose of her mission. He’d heard her out but obviously didn’t believe her. How was she to convince him everything she’d told him was the absolute truth?
How long she lay there with the day’s events swirling in her mind, she didn’t know, but at some point she finally dozed off only to have Gabriel Valdez invade her dreams. Scowling and pointing a finger that grew into a glittering dagger the same moss-green color as his eyes, he aimed the threatening point at her heart and shouted, “Liar!” again and again. She covered her ears and backed away, shaking her head.
“No, not lying!” she muttered in her sleep.
“Wake up!” a voice whispered. A hand shook her shoulder.
She jerked awake, giving a startled cry. The hand released her shoulder and clamped over her mouth, silencing her. Not registering the fact that the intruder spoke English, she instantly thought of Manuel, her unwelcome visitor last night, and elbowed him in the ribs.
The man hissed in pain. “Jesú! Stop fighting! It is I, Gabriel.”
Josie went limp with relief. He cautiously lifted his hand away.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I-I thought –”
“It matters not. Danger approaches. We must leave.”
She sat up. “What danger?”
“Guerrilleros. Guerrilla fighters. Come!”
She caught her breath, knowing he referred to one of the rebel bands that roamed Colombia. She’d been told a tentative peace existed between them and the government, but it appeared Valdez was at odds with them. While Josie digested this information, he ducked out of the tent.
“Come now, if you value your life,” he whispered, holding the flap open for her.
“I’m coming. Give me a chance.” She kicked off her sleeping bag and scooted out after him. The fire had gone out, or been doused, leaving the night pitch dark, but she caught the muted sound of animals being saddled. Valdez led her toward the sound.