Dawn of Valor

by Lindsay McKenna

  Chase’s gaze softened and he stared down at her. “I’ve never met such a beautiful or courageous woman before,” he rasped unsteadily. It would be so easy to press the advantage and kiss her. Chase remembered their last kiss, aching to do it again. He wanted to show Rachel the beauty of love between a man and a woman, to explore that passionate world together.

  Rachel’s womanly instincts told her to move, to ease out of Chase’s seductive embrace that begged her to stay and kiss him again. His words fell like heated promises across her, as she reluctantly pulled away, sitting up opposite him.

  Awkwardly Chase handed her the handkerchief. The moments strung gently together as he wrestled with proper words instead of the more natural ones that would convey his naked desire for Rachel. She was so pretty in those minutes. Her black hair framed her face in mild disarray, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were a soft green. His gaze fell to her mouth, and Chase groaned inwardly; he felt the turgid flow of blood, making him want her all over again.

  “Come on,” he whispered gruffly, helping Rachel to her feet, “let’s get out of here.”

  Nodding, Rachel fell into step behind Chase. The bleeding had halted, and she clenched the handkerchief in her hand. Chase increased the length of his stride until she was almost running across the rocky hillside in order to keep up with him. But her body was becoming accustomed to the hard physical demands, and she kept up the pace. Even as they crossed the treacherous, enemy-infested valley, Rachel couldn’t erase the feeling of being in Chase’s arms.

  “Let’s take a breather,” Chase told her, finding a grove of trees and using the thick trunks as cover against possible enemy patrols. He sat down, his back against the rough bark. Rachel sat two trees away, keeping her distance. Looking at his watch, Chase realized it was nearly two o’clock.

  “We’ve been moving fast,” he commented.

  With a grimace, Rachel gently rubbed her calves, working the knots out of them. “Don’t I know it.”

  Managing a sour grin, Chase agreed. “We’ve probably made twelve miles already today. That’s good.”

  “That’s killing.” Rachel managed a returning smile, thinking how handsome Chase looked. His face glistened with sweat, emphasizing the strong lines of his features, bringing out the intense blues of his narrowed, keenly intelligent eyes.

  “We’ll rest a good half hour.” Chase wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his sleeve. “I’d give anything for some water.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t that be heavenly?” She dug out the can of food wrapped in the silk. “I’m starved.”

  So was he, Chase discovered, pulling out the plastic box from his pocket. “Let’s eat now and keep up our strength.”

  Hungrily Rachel agreed, using her fingers to scoop out the food. “We’ll be lucky not to get food poisoning.”

  “Typical nurse, thinking of the medical ramifications,” Chase teased, thrusting his fingers into the rice dish.

  Smiling, Rachel focused on the food, more hungry than she could ever recall. After finishing, she confided, “When I was a kid, I used to think wiping my fingers on my trousers when we were out camping was great.” She examined her fingers with distaste. “Now, I wish I had a stream to wash them in.”

  In that moment, through Chase’s eyes, Rachel looked like a little girl. His smile deepened, and he straightened out one of his legs in her direction. “Wipe them on my flight suit, I don’t care.”

  Laughter bubbled up within Rachel and she leaned forward, wiping her greasy fingers on his lower pant leg. “Don’t ever let it be said that you aren’t an officer and a gentleman under some dire circumstances, Captain. This calls for a medal of some sort.”

  Her touch was evocative, fleeting. Chase yearned to have Rachel skim his entire body with those slender hands. Hooding his eyes so she couldn’t read his less than gentlemanly thoughts, he teased, “What? A greasy-fingers medal? Aren’t many of those given out, you know.”

  Rachel had to put her hands over her lips to stifle a real laugh, her eyes dancing with merriment. The corners of Chase’s mouth pulled into a heartbreaking smile, the heat lancing through her like sweet summer rain. Every nuance of her body responded to his smile, leaving her breathless.

  “How did a nice girl like you end up in a place like this?” Chase prodded.

  Tipping her head back against the tree, Rachel studied him through her lashes. “After I graduated from nursing school, I wanted to make a difference, Chase.”

  “You could have made the difference in a hospital stateside.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I’ve always lived a life of extremes. I never did anything halfway. My parents will tell you that from an early age, I was always putting myself into exploratory situations. I wasn’t content to play with my dolls in the living room. I had to have a tree house instead.”

  “Your father must have thought you were a tomboy.”

  “My parents never saw me that way. They accepted my curiosity as normal, and encouraged my exploration.”

  “Unusual.”

  “If it had been a boy doing the same thing, it wouldn’t have been seen as unusual, Chase. Everyone would have expected it.”

  Nettled, Chase saw her point. “I guess…”

  “It’s a good thing my parents allowed me to be all those things, because they’ve played a major part in our escape so far.”

  Again he nodded. Still, her flagrant independence bothered him.

  Rachel smiled to herself. She saw the bullish set of Chase’s mouth, realizing that he was fighting the truth about her. “Well, what about you? Were you raised like a typical boy?”

  Chase nodded. “With my father being in the military, we got a pretty broad and interesting education early on.”

  “You’re proud of your father, aren’t you?”

  Chase smiled. “Yeah, I am. And I’m proud to be carrying on our family tradition.”

  “Every son went into the service. Any daughters?”

  Chase nodded. “They stayed home and made good wives while their men went off to war.”

  Rachel winced and gave him a sour look.

  Chase scowled. “Look, the military is no place for a woman.”

  “Why not?”

  Jabbing his finger down at the soil, Chase said, “Because you can get killed, that’s why. Besides, women can’t take the blood and horror.”

  She sat up, her arms dangling over her knees. “Men can’t either, Chase.”

  Frowning, he muttered, “I don’t believe it.”

  “I see blood day in and day out.”

  “You’re different.”

  “No, I’m a woman. We’re far better equipped emotionally in my opinion, to handle the ups and downs of life.”

  “War is more than ‘ups and downs,’ Rachel.”

  “Is it? Your family has made a career of it.”

  Eyes narrowing, Chase stared at her. “My family has not made a career of war. We believe in freedom and see ourselves as patriots willing to go to war if necessary to defend our way of life.”

  Shaking her head, Rachel absently picked at a dry blade of grass between her legs. “Chase, every day I see young boys, eighteen and nineteen years old, come through our MASH unit shot up. I see the terror in their eyes. I wish I could take you on night rounds, listening to them screaming out in the middle of a nightmare.” She held his gaze. “War is no place for anyone. And men don’t handle it very well, either.”

  “Look, women don’t understand these things.”

  “What, war? I understand it just fine, Chase. In fact, as a nurse, I understand it far better than most people.”

  “So, what’s your point?” She was smart and quick-witted, traits Chase admired in a man.

  “My point is, war is a crime against all human beings.”

  Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Brother, are you in the wrong place, then.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Chase, you’re acting like you have blinders
on. Can’t you see what I’m saying?”

  “No. Look, the Commies are trying to take over South Korea. We’ve got to stop them.”

  “Do you realize we’re the only species that fights its own kind? When I sit out in the forest, I watch the animals and birds for hours. They never attack one another.”

  “We’re fighting for freedom,” Chase said stubbornly. “Animals don’t have that to worry about.”

  Rachel leaned back. “I guess I want peace over war,” she uttered wearily.

  The tremble in her voice unstrung Chase. He reached over, gripping her knee, giving it a small squeeze and then releasing it. “I think that’s the difference between men and women. For myself, it’s exciting as hell to be staring an enemy pilot in the face, getting ready to do battle.”

  A one-cornered smile tugged at Rachel’s mouth. “Fighting through a machine can be highly impersonal. The men on the ground in the trenches don’t have that protection. War becomes personal on the front. I honestly believe there are some men who are warriors by nature. But if you spent one day at my MASH unit, you’d discover how many men aren’t of that nature.”

  Rising, Chase said, “Well, when we get out of this mess, you’ll be heading stateside, where you belong. Come on, let’s go.”

  Rachel slowly stood, realizing the war hadn’t really touched Chase—yet. She hoped it never would. But until it did, he wouldn’t understand or see what she had experienced. Another even more insidious thought leaked through; something Rachel had been trying to ignore.

  As she walked at Chase’s side, Rachel broke out into a cold, unnerving sweat. It was a reaction to fear, something she’d experienced off and on since her capture. Would they get out of here alive? Rachel had tried so hard to maintain a positive view of their situation, but the days without proper food and rest were fraying her optimism.

  Needing to talk, she blurted, “Chase, do you think we’ll make it back?”

  He glanced over at her. “I don’t know.”

  Her stomach knotted hard. “Well…I mean, we’ve done well so far.”

  “We’re in a wartime situation, Rachel. I wish I could promise you things are going to be fine, but I can’t. We’ve just got to be on our toes and hope like hell we find our lines before the Commies find us.”

  Rubbing her stomach, Rachel frowned, a terrible, cold panic growing deep within her. “I see,” she said faintly, bowing her head, keeping her attention on the countryside around them.

  As much as Rachel tried to concentrate on remaining alert to possible enemy patrols, her anxieties multiplied until, by the end of the day, her emotions were frayed and she felt herself unraveling. Rachel had no experience to draw upon to know how to combat her spiraling fear.

  The temperature dropped dramatically when the sun slid behind the horizon, and Rachel was shivering despite the fast pace of their walk southward. They had crossed another valley and had trekked close to thirty miles that day, in her estimation. Her breath came out of her mouth in ragged white wisps as they climbed a grassy hill. The moon had just risen, the sickle shape larger than before, casting a glow that reminded her of a molten river of silver across the landscape.

  Glancing down at his watch, Chase slowed. It was midnight. He turned, looking down at Rachel. The scratch on her face was puffy, marring the beauty of her features. Looking into her eyes, he saw weariness and something else. There was a haunted quality to Rachel, something he’d not seen before. Recalling their earlier conversation, Chase knew that the reality of their dangerous situation was hitting Rachel in earnest. Yet, the stubborn set of her lips told him she would keep going without complaint if he asked it of her.

  “Ready to call it a night?” His voice was low, barely audible. They hadn’t run into any more patrols, although they had seen a convoy on a dirt road speeding north late in the day.

  “Am I ever,” Rachel whispered. Her legs felt rubbery, and she was shivering. Placing her arms around herself, she rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to create better circulation.

  “It’s freezing out here,” Chase muttered. He looked around, spotting a ledge and a small crawl space beneath it. Capturing Rachel’s hand, he turned, leading her toward it. Chase’s hand was warm in comparison to hers. Rachel remained close, needing the heat of his body. She fought the other reasons; being near Chase aroused her in new and wonderful ways that she desperately wanted to explore with him. Rachel remembered her mother’s words: A woman saved herself for the man who was going to be her husband. The silly thought invaded her spongy senses that Chase, despite his warlike beliefs, was really a decent man at heart. He didn’t enjoy killing. To him, it was like a game of wits, nothing more or less. In her present state, she wanted to be in his arms, to huddle up next to him, feel his strength and hide from the tearing fear that lived within her.

  As Chase released her hand, knelt and cleared the pebbles from beneath the overhang, Rachel allowed his presence to envelope her fatigued senses. When he turned, motioning for her to join him in the small space, she hesitated.

  “Come on!” he whispered.

  “Chase, there isn’t room in there for both of us.”

  With a growl, Chase pulled Rachel into the niche. “It’s too late and we’re too tired to argue. I’m not going to take advantage of you.” He folded her into his arms, her length against his. Seeing the disbelief in her large green eyes, Chase held on to his fraying temper. “Look, just because I stole a kiss once doesn’t mean I’m going to do it again.” Liar. Right now with her head resting against his arm, her body fitted comfortably against him, Chase entertained that very thought.

  Rachel tried to protest, but it was impossible. Chase was warm, and his arm around her shoulders was taking away some of the chill. She was afraid that if she admitted how badly she needed to be held, Chase might take advantage of the situation. Burrowing her head beneath his chin, her cheek against his chest, she felt some of her fear melt away.

  Grinning crookedly, Chase relaxed, contentment flowing through him. If he told Rachel how good she felt against him, she’d push away and spend the night outside the ledge. “Trust me,” he soothed deeply. “Come on, let’s sleep, Angel Eyes. We’re too tired to do anything.” Well, that wasn’t quite true. As Chase ran his hand up and down her back to create warmth in her, he thought it was a good thing Rachel couldn’t read his mind.

  “This isn’t right, Chase.”

  He heard the indignation in her protest. “I know it isn’t, but it can’t be helped. I’m not going to let you sit out there trembling. It would make me feel like a heel.”

  Rachel took a deep, ragged breath, pressing closer. “I—I’m cold, Chase…” And scared. The words never left her lips. She didn’t want him to think her weak.

  “Take it easy, Rachel. Use my body heat to warm yourself.”

  Though her conscience shouted that it wasn’t right, fatigue won the argument. Rachel surrendered, sinking deeply into his embrace. As Rachel lay with his arm acting as a pillow, her face pressed into the folds of his flight suit, she laughed to herself. For being a nurse and knowing so much about anatomy and the male body, this was certainly a different sensation.

  “Better?” Chase asked in a low voice, his mouth very near her ear.

  “Yes…”

  He smiled, hearing the pleasure in her husky voice as he continued to slowly rub her back. “Warmer?”

  Rachel gave a slight nod, her hands nestled between her breasts. Her lids felt weighted, and she acquiesced, falling into a deep sleep, unaware of anything except Chase’s arms holding her safe.

  How long Chase lay with Rachel in his arms, wanting her, he didn’t know. Every inhalation of her breath brought her soft breasts against his chest. Her scent moved maddeningly around him, enticing him, cajoling him to do something about it. Why couldn’t she be less beautiful? Married? Anything? He glared into the darkness, telling himself all the reasons why he should leave her alone.

  At the end of two hours, Chase was more awake than befor
e. Though he was mentally tired, his body was begging him to love Rachel. The moonlight slanted beneath the overhang, illuminating Rachel’s sleeping features. She looked angelic in sleep, he thought, staring down at her, absorbing her into his heated bloodstream.

  Her full, beautifully formed lips were slightly parted in sleep, alluring and beckoning. Her softly winged brows were frames for her wonderful green eyes. He liked her chin and the strong line of her jaw. And Rachel’s burning, unquenchable spirit drew him powerfully to her.

  Reaching out, Chase gently drew several strands of ebony hair away from her injured cheek, tucking them behind her delicately shaped ear. He’d never met a woman like her, so full of life, possessing her own opinions and displaying an incredible confidence. She was no wilting lily, that was for sure.

  Frowning, Chase allowed his hand to rest against the crown of her hair. Something special about Rachel had eaten at him hourly over the past few days. Chase had tried to define it. She was a rare butterfly and he was chasing her with his net, trying to capture her. His eyes darkened as he ruthlessly assessed his feelings.

  There was no way to break the connective cord he felt strung between them. So much of what he felt defied definition. Chase knew only that when he talked with Rachel, he was eager to communicate and explore any topic with her. He might not agree with her on the war issue, but it excited him that she had an opinion on it in the first place.

  A slight deprecating smile formed on his mouth as he gazed longingly down at her. Chase felt his heart expanding outward, exploding with a warm sensation unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Chase wanted to tell her he admired her, even if he didn’t agree with her.

  His smile deepened as he watched her breasts rise and fall slowly against the less than flattering fatigues she wore. There was no way to hide her femininity. Of their own accord, his fingers began threading through strands of her hair. Each strand was like silk: strong, resilient, yet smooth and sleek, like Rachel herself.

  Rachel stirred in her sleep, trying to escape the terror that stalked her. She felt Chase’s fingers sliding through her hair, combing it gently, releasing a deluge of stored longing from her heart. No one had ever touched her with such reverence, such overwhelming tenderness.