Elusive Hope

by Marylu Tyndall

  “No…yes…” She pressed a cloth over the wounds, wondering how he could even talk, let alone joke, with the pain he must be enduring. “But you’ll need stitches.” Stitches she had no idea how to apply. Though she’d seen Eliza stitch wounds a dozen times, she’d never done them herself. She drew a deep breath and faced him again. She had no choice. They were at least a day or more from New Hope and she couldn’t very well leave Hayden’s flesh hanging open to the insects and filth of the jungle.

  Gathering her strength, she poured water on a cloth and wiped blood from the gashes. He winced. “Sorry, but I need to clean the injured area.”

  He took one glance at his arm then swerved his gaze to the jungle. “I’m suddenly glad you learned nursing from Eliza.”

  “Some.” Her heart scrambled into her throat. “Enough.” She hoped. “Here, hold this.”

  Hayden pressed his hand on the cloth while Magnolia retrieved the flask of rum.

  “This is hardly time for a drink, Princess.” His grin turned into a grimace.

  “Alcohol prevents infection.”

  “You would waste your precious rum on me?”

  She uncorked it. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Now, this will hurt.”

  His jaw knotted but he gave her a nod.

  She poured the pinga on his wound. He didn’t move. Didn’t scream. But pain seared in his eyes. What had this man endured to make him so tough? “You don’t have to play the valiant hero for me,” she said.

  “You’re not impressed?”

  Of course she was. More and more each day. “Does it matter what I think?” She rose and sifted through her valise, not wanting to see, by his expression, what his answer was. There. She found the tiny leather purse and pulled out the thread and needle she’d brought just in case she needed to mend her skirts. Not that she’d ever mended anything herself before, but in lieu of a lady’s maid, She was sure she could figure it out.

  When she returned to his side, his eyes were squeezed shut. So he wasn’t as tough as he pretended. After pouring rum on both needle and thread, she sat beside him and drew a deep breath. “This will hurt.” Her hand trembled. Doubts flooded her. Who did she think she was? She couldn’t do this. Other than her mother’s failed attempts to teach her to embroider beads onto her skirts, she’d never sewn a stitch. Let alone human flesh! Her father’s words pierced her confidence: “Magnolia, God gave you one gift and one gift alone, and that is your comely appearance. So, focus on that, my dear, and forget the rest. Then you’ll attract a wealthy man worthy of such beauty.”

  She gulped. Firelight flickered over the needle, taunting her to continue. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Hayden opened his eyes, their intensity diving deep into hers. “Go ahead, Princess. You can do this. I trust you.”

  Trust me? Yet there it was in his eyes. Faith. Belief—belief in her abilities, that she was more than a face and figure. Warmth swirled through her, bolstering her courage.

  He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. The gentle gesture nearly melted her on the spot. She dropped her gaze to the wound. Focus, Magnolia. Focus! “No distractions.” Her nerves ignited like flint on steel.

  “Then I do distract you.”

  “Be still.”

  “Aye, ay—”

  She pierced skin and slid the thread through. His Adam’s apple plummeted. A tiny moan reverberated in his chest. She hated hurting him. Making another pass, she looped flesh together. He faced her. His rapid breath spread hot waves over her cheeks.

  He grabbed a lock of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. He smelled of sweat and blood and…Hayden. “I told you to be still.”

  “Touching you helps keep my mind off it.”

  She shifted her eyes between his. She still could not believe he’d risked his life to save her. Could not believe he’d leapt between her and a ravenous wolf.

  She tugged on the thread.

  Wincing, he ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. She allowed the familiarity if it helped him cope with the pain. What it did to her insides was anything but painful. She slid the needle through again. “Almost done.”

  The fire cracked and spit.

  He fingered the lace at her collar and brushed fingers over her neck.

  Magnolia’s skin buzzed beneath his touch. She finished the stitch, snapped the thread, and tied it off. “I don’t know how long that will hold, being common thread and all.” Taking clean shreds of petticoat, she wrapped them around his arm, his muscles still rock hard even with the wounds. “But that’s the best I know to do.” She just prayed it wouldn’t get infected. Prayed she’d done it right. Done something right when it mattered most of all.

  Hayden couldn’t take his eyes off Magnolia. Instead of curling up into a ball and whimpering as he would expect someone of her station to do after they’d nearly been eaten by a wolf, she’d taken charge, hadn’t faltered in her task, and had stitched up a wound that would make most women swoon.

  “You are a brave girl.”

  Shock blinked on her face. “Hardly.” She washed her hands with canteen water and gathered the bloody cloths.

  Placing a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. Those blue eyes, normally flashing like lightning, were soft, even timid. “You didn’t run when you had the chance. You stayed. Risked your own life to knock the wolf off me.” He eased a thumb over her chin, not wanting her to move and rob him of the look of ardor in her eyes.

  “How could I do any less after you saved me?”

  “Any other woman would have run. And most men I know, as well.” He snorted.

  She jerked her chin from his touch, one brow arching. “You always said I was crazy. Now you have your proof.” She bundled the bloody cloths in her arms, inching away from him.

  Yes, crazy and brave and charming and wonderful. And apparently uncomfortable beneath his complements. He flexed his arm, not showing the pain in his face. Though the wounds still throbbed, the bleeding had stopped. With his good hand, he tore off the remainder of his shirt and tossed it aside. “Guess that leaves me without a shirt.” Since he’d returned the one he’d “borrowed” in Rio. When he looked back at her, she was staring at his chest.

  A flood of pink crawled up her neck, and she fumbled with her skirts in an attempt to stand.

  He gripped her arm, gently, yet firmly, keeping her beside him. “Thank you. For stitching me up. You did a good job.”

  She gave a little smile and stared into the jungle. A breeze stirred her loose curls, tossing one onto her cheek. “Why did you come after me, Hayden? You haven’t spoken to me for days. I thought you hated me. Couldn’t wait to be rid of me.” She moved her gaze to his chest then quickly dropped it to the ground between them.

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. So soft. “I could never hate you.” Before he’d even entered the clearing, he had heard the wolf ’s growls, knew she was in mortal danger. Yet, oddly, not a single thought of self-preservation had entered his mind. The great Hayden Gale who always put himself above others had rushed headlong into certain death to save another.

  She searched his eyes, as if trying to assess his sincerity. There, the affection he’d seen moments ago returned. Was it possible that a woman like Magnolia could care for him?

  “But you—but I thought—” she stuttered. “Didn’t you just say, not moments before, that you blame me for not having enough money to…?”

  But Hayden wasn’t listening anymore. Her rambling faded into the background as he absorbed her with his gaze, longing to take her in his arms. Zooks, the woman could argue about anything, even their affection for each other.

  “…and when I asked you to look in the mirror, why the very sight of me caused you to run off into the jungle. And every time I’ve tried to stir up conversation you…”

  He grinned, delighting in her feminine gestures and expressions while she prattled on.

  “So as you can cl
early see—”

  His lips met hers.

  CHAPTER 24

  Hefting the heavy book they’d found at the temple, James trudged through the jungle back to New Hope. Behind him, Blake and Eliza discussed what to do with Mr. Graves, while behind them, Dodd and Lewis argued about the best way to extract the gold moon and stars from the temple wall. But James didn’t care about the treasure. Or Graves, if he were honest. He was still trying to shake off the foreboding presence he’d felt in the tunnels. In fact, he hadn’t been able to get away from that place fast enough.

  A flock of blue-and-green parakeets chattered above him as a swarm of gray butterflies flitted between thick hanging vines. The melancholy caw caw of a toucan sounded in the distance. A lizard skittered up a tree trunk beside him then stopped to bounce up and down on all fours. James smiled, took a deep breath of the musky air, and allowed the rhythm of life to settle his nerves.

  That was when the crackling started. At first soft and slick like the sifting of grain through a sieve. Despite the humidity, the hair on James’s arms prickled. One glance over his shoulder told him Blake and Eliza didn’t hear it or perhaps, so engrossed in conversation, didn’t notice. He faced forward again and swatted a leaf aside, scanning the jungle. A flash of periwinkle blue caught his eye, a glimpse of raven hair, graying at the temples. His heart cinched. Continuing forward, he kept his gaze on the vision, for that was what he knew it was. Just a vision, a dream from his past. His mother stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him, at first smiling with that I’ll-always-love-you-smile a mother gave her only son, but then sorrow squeezed the life from her expression. She looked so real, James’s eyes filled with tears. He shifted them away and continued onward. He wasn’t going to make a fool out of himself again.

  “You left me,” she said as he passed her. “You went off to war.” Her voice floated on the edge of sorrow.

  James plodded forward, but she kept pace with him, walking through ferns and trees and vines as if she were made of nothing. Of course she was made of nothing. She was a vision. A mist. Then why did she look and sound so real?

  “Don’t leave me, Jimmy, not again. I died of a broken heart, you know. Died because you left me.” Tears trickled from her eyes.

  You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here, James repeated in his head, keeping his gaze forward. What is happening, Lord?

  “Jimmy, oh, Jimmy.” She began to sob, and James could stand it no more. He stopped and stared into her swimming brown eyes. Oh, how he’d missed those loving chestnut-colored eyes. God in heaven, help him.

  Then she disappeared. But not before he saw a tiny smirk lift one side of her lips. Gripping the book to his chest, James bent over, nausea welling in his stomach.

  “What is it?” Eliza caught up to him.

  “Have some water, Doc.” The colonel handed him the canteen. “This heat can get the best of a man.”

  James pushed it away. “No.” He straightened himself. “Let’s just get back to town.”

  Eliza’s look of concern transferred into one of understanding. “You saw something, didn’t you? A vision?”

  James nodded and stormed forward, ignoring further questions.

  A few minutes later, they emerged from the jungle onto the path leading back to New Hope. Taking advantage of the widened trail, Blake and Eliza slipped beside James as they made their way past fields speckled with sugar cane sprouts. Finally the thatched roofs of their huts came into view. The sight brought a smile to James’s lips. After the macabre gloom of the temple, their quaint settlement was like a ray of sunshine.

  “Seems you have some studying to do.” Blake gestured toward the book.

  James ran his hand over the aged leather, faded and cracked. “Indeed. If I remember the Hebrew my father taught me.”

  “I was surprised when you told me it was Hebrew. I would have never recognized it,” Blake said. “What baffles me is how a book written in Hebrew, an archaic language not used in centuries, ended up in Brazil. And buried beneath a pagan temple, of all places.”

  James sighed. “I quite agree. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Eliza leaned forward, peering at James from Blake’s other side. “How did your father know Hebrew?”

  “He studied it. Wanted to understand the Old Testament better. My mother thought he was a bit overzealous.” James chuckled but suddenly sobered. Was that why he’d seen a vision of her? Because the Hebrew had brought her to mind?

  Blake rubbed his sore leg. “And now Graves wants you to translate it for him.”

  “I’ll do it,” James said. “But only to satisfy my own curiosity. Whoever wrote this was well educated.” He’d already determined that from the few pages he’d perused.

  Blake swatted a bug. “Perhaps it will give some clue about the purpose of the tunnels.”

  “And who or what was chained up below.”

  “I just wish we could help Mr. Graves,” Eliza remarked as she stepped over a massive root. “And I’m still worried for Magnolia. It’s been two weeks, and we’ve not heard from the scout we sent after her.”

  “Yes, I’m concerned as well.” Blake raked a hand through his hair. “Yet if she ran after Hayden, he’ll take good care of her.”

  James chuckled. “And no doubt bring her back as soon as he can. There’s no love lost between those two,” he said as they entered the town.

  Blake halted, lifting a hand to keep Eliza back. Dodd and Lewis caught up with them and stopped.

  “What is it?” James followed their gazes to the meeting shelter.

  The rest of the colonists were huddled together on the dirt floor, surrounded by a band of armed men, muskets and pistols at the ready. James blinked as shock sped through him. Upon seeing them, a tall man with curly black hair sauntered their way. Jeweled pins decorating his silver-embroidered waistcoat sparkled in the sunlight as he continued toward them, sizing them up with his gaze.

  Halting, he placed one hand on the hilt of a short sword hanging at his side. “I am Captain Armando Manuel Ricu of the pirate ship Espoliar. Now, tell me where is the gold?”

  At the very least, Hayden expected a slight protest from Magnolia, a feigned indignation, perhaps even a slap when his lips descended on hers, but instead, she moaned in ecstasy and pressed her curves against him. He wrapped his good arm around her and deepened the kiss. She moaned again, ran her fingers through his hair, gripping it in bunches as her passion grew. She tasted fresh and sweet, and he grew thirsty for more of her. Not just more of her physically, but more of her in every way. She’d become a part of him and he needed to feed that part with knowledge of her, with her laughter, her fears, her hopes and dreams.

  He gripped her face and rubbed his thumbs across her jaw,directing her mouth to move with his, leading her in their passionate dance. She withdrew, her eyes brimming with desire as they shifted between his. Releasing her face, he brushed hair from her cheek. “Magnolia,” was all he could think to say. “Sweet, sweet, Magnolia.”

  The air between them thickened, charged with a power that made his heart swell, his blood pulse, his head spin. Time slowed as their eyes searched each other’s. A breeze stirred leaves into a dance. Branches swayed. Fireflies sparked in the darkness. Something connected between them. Something deep and abiding.

  She leaned her forehead against his, her breath puffing over him like warm fog. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She gave a little laugh and reached up to touch his good arm, hesitating at first then running a finger over his rounded bicep.

  “That you enjoyed my kiss?” Hayden took her other hand and planted his lips upon it. “Or that you are kissing a man who’s wearing no shirt?” He grinned.

  “Both.” She smiled, caressing his stubbled jaw.

  “Sorry. I haven’t shaved since we left Rio.”

  “No, I like it.” She smiled. “It feels like sand on my cheek.”

  Everything inside Hayden that was real—his heart, soul, and spirit—ached. With an ex
hilarating, pleasurable ache. What was happening to him? Was this what it felt like to fall in love? Both thrilling and terrifying at the same time? Now as she gazed at him with such admiration, with such longing, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and protect her, keep her safe, and give her all his love forever.

  He kissed her cheek, then trailed kisses down her jaw and back to her lips, finding them as sweet as ever.

  “Thank you for saving me, Hayden,” she breathed out.

  “My pleasure.”

  She backed away. A tear slipped down her cheek. “No one has ever risked their life for me.”

  He eased a curl from her forehead. “Because no one has taken the time to realize what a treasure you are.”

  At this, she melted in his arms and began to sob. Unsure if he had said something wrong, he embraced her, burying his head in her hair that smelled of moss and orchids.

  When she’d spent her tears, she kissed him, deep and powerful, and he realized he’d said the right thing. But her passion soon stirred his own to near boiling, and against everything within him, he nudged her back.

  “We should stop.”

  “Yes, of course.” She seemed embarrassed, leaned forward on her knees and started to rise. Hayden stood and helped her to her feet, bringing her hand to his lips for another kiss. He’d love nothing more than to continue kissing her all night, but she was unlike the other women he’d known. She was special, precious, and he didn’t want to ruin things with unbridled passion and regrets.

  He stretched his wounded arm. “Thank you for tending my wound.”

  “It was my first.” She gathered her salve, clean strips of petticoats, and thread and needle, and returned them to her valise. “Good night, Hayden.”

  “Good night, Princess.” And for the first time, as he watched her walk to her shelter and cast a loving glance at him over her shoulder, he meant the title in the purest sense of the word.

  Halting just a few yards from New Hope, Magnolia glanced down at her attire. She still wore her cleanest gown, the one she’d purchased in Rio, though it was anything but clean anymore. She’d pinned her hair up as best she could—without using her mirror—and scrubbed most of the dirt from her skin. It was going to be hard enough facing her father without looking like a filthy street waif. As it was, her nerves were in so many knots, they resembled the tangled vines crisscrossing the canopy. She knew he’d be mad, furious even. What she didn’t know was what her punishment would entail, nor how much debt would be added to her already massive bill.