"Damn! I was hoping Hernandez could help us. We need to book passage on a boat headed downriver and I'm afraid we're short of funds. About all we have to barter with is a government jeep."
"Come with me." With a wave of her hand, Landra invited them to follow as she strolled out of the bar, across the wide foyer and to a set of French doors.
Murdock leaned over and whispered in Catherine's ear, "Pull in your claws, Cat. Landra's not your enemy."
They met up with Landra just as she opened the French doors. A room of pale-lavender walls, deep-purple drapes and ornate mahogany furniture greeted them. Landra sat in a lush plum-and-gold stripped chair and indicated for them to take seats on either the purple velvet settee or the magenta wingback chair across from her. Murdock chose the chair. Catherine sat on the edge of the settee.
"Hernandez left El Paraiso del Diablo to me," Landra said. "I was always his favorite, you know. And about a year before he died, we got married and I started overseeing the other girls."
"Well, congratulations," Murdock said. "So all this is yours, now, huh?"
"Yes. All mine," Landra said. "So, tell me what I can do to help you."
"We need to book passage on a boat going down-river." Murdock crossed one leg over the other, bracing his right foot over his left knee. "We need to get to Santa Teresa as soon as possible."
"To Santa Teresa. But why?" Landra's black eyes rounded questioningly.
"It's urgent that I get to Vincente Sabino before he reaches San Carlos. I have information that is vital to the cause."
"Vincente is no longer at Santa Teresa." Landra stood, walked across the room and closed the French doors. "Vincente is already on the move with several regiments of his troops. He should arrive in Yanahuara by day after tomorrow."
"How can we get to Yanahuara?" Murdock asked.
"I'll arrange for you and your traveling companion to go downriver and disembark near Celendin," Landra said. "And I will send you with money and a message to someone there who can arrange to take you to Yanahuara."
"How soon will a boat going downriver come along?" Catherine asked.
Landra smiled. "There is a supply boat leaving tonight, making a round-trip to Senona. I will arrange things with the captain for him to stop along the way and let you and your traveling companion—" Landra narrowed her gaze as she smiled at Catherine "—off near Celendin."
Murdock stood. Catherine followed suit. Landra sauntered toward Murdock, then reached out and grasped his big hands when she drew close.
"Thank you for not asking questions." Murdock kissed Landra, first on one cheek and then the other.
Landra caressed Murdock's chest, then let one hand rest over his heart. "I do not forget that you are a true friend to the Sabino family. And I do not forget that you are a good man."
Without further ado, Landra walked across the room and pulled a tapestry cord that summoned a servant, who appeared almost instantly. She spoke to him in rapid-fire Spanish, making it impossible for Catherine to understand a word. When she finished instructing the servant, Landra turned to her guests.
"You may use my room, upstairs, to bathe and change clothes," she informed them. "Fresh clothes will be available and I'm having a light supper sent up to you."
"Señora, you're very kind." Catherine wanted to dislike this woman—this whorehouse madam—but how could she harbor any ill feelings toward someone who was treating them so graciously? "Thank you. Gracias."
"For Murdock, anything." She nodded to the waiting servant. "Go with Erasmo. I will send word to the captain of the Dama de la Libertad that he will have passengers on this trip. You have less than three hours before he departs."
As Murdock and Catherine walked past Landra, she gently grabbed Catherine's arm and urged her to come closer. Whispering softly she said, "Have no worry in giving yourself to him, señora. He is muy buen amante."
Catherine offered the other woman a weak smile, then followed Murdock and the servant out into the foyer. As they climbed the stairs, Murdock asked what Landra had said to her.
"I'm not sure. But when I figure it out, I don't think I'm going to like it."
"Want me to translate for you?"
Catherine hesitated. "She said you were a—" she whispered the words to him "—muy buen amante."
As they reached the landing at the top of the stairs, Murdock laughed. "Why that little devil. I think she was trying to make you jealous, Cat. She told you that I was a very good lover."
Catherine rolled her eyes, but the flush that stained her cheeks destroyed the cavalier attitude she had hoped to project. "Don't go feeling so macho. She remembers what you were like twenty years ago, when you were a lot younger. I'll bet you aren't the man you were then."
He grinned. "You're right, honey. I'm more experienced now."
Catherine blew out an exasperated breath, then followed the servant into Landra's private room. The moment they entered, Catherine gasped. Gold and white silk and satin covered every inch of the bedroom. Ornate gold mirrors hung on every wall and the entire ceiling was mirrored.
"Good grief!" Catherine planted her hands on her hips. "Talk about being obvious. If this isn't the epitome of a whorehouse madam's bedroom, I don't know what is."
"And just what would you know about a whorehouse madam's bedroom?"
"Not nearly as much as you do, I'm sure." She circled the room, gazing at the ostentatious decor. "Was the room where Landra discovered you were a muy buen amante anything like this?"
"When I knew Landra, she was one of Hernandez's girls," Murdock reminded Catherine. "I don't remember what her room looked like back then. It was twenty years ago."
"And I'll just bet there have been a lot of rooms and a lot of women since then!" Catherine scanned the doors, wondering which were closets and which led to the bathroom. She'd had just about all she could stand of muy hombre Aloysius Murdock.
"What can I say?" Murdock held up his big hands in a show of defeat. "I like the ladies and they like me."
"Well, here's one lady—" she thumped her chest "—who'll be glad when she's seen the last of you, muy hombre!" Catherine flung open one door after another until one revealed the bathroom. "I'm getting out of these filthy clothes. When your old buddy Landra sends up something for me to wear, just crack the door and toss them in to me."
"Want me to come in and wash your back?" Murdock asked teasingly.
"In your dreams, Aloysius!"
* * *
They boarded the Dama de la Libertad before eleven-thirty. The captain himself, a rebel sympathizer, welcomed them aboard and told them that when they wanted to rest, they could use his cabin. He then explained to Murdock that he would wake them when they reached the roadway that led into Celendin. If the trip went as usual, they'd reach that destination around dawn.
The Dama de la Libertad was an old gunboat, which was now used to deliver equipment, supplies and medical aid to the natives in remote areas along the river. As well as arms to Sabino's rebels.
Standing on deck as the boat began its twelve-hour round-trip journey, Catherine and Murdock looked out over the dark waterway in front of them.
"I wish you could see this river in the daylight," he said. "There are places on the Rio Negro where schools of small fish jump out of the water and where dolphins play. There are palm swamps and giant butterflies. And … you'll see it for yourself, when we go upriver and into Brazil."
"I'm beginning to think we'll never get out of Zaraza," Catherine told him. "I've been in this damn country for less than a week and I feel as if I've been here a year!"
Murdock draped his arm around her shoulder. She tensed, but didn't pull away from him. "I'm sorry you got stuck here with me."
"It wasn't your fault."
"No, but I could take you straight into Brazil and say to hell with warning Vincente."
Inclining her head to the right, she gazed at him in the shadowy darkness. The gas lanterns inside the pilot house cast a dim glow out across the cover
ed deck and spotlighted Murdock's big silhouette.
"You can't do that and we both know it," she said. "I wouldn't let you, even if you wanted to. Not now." She laid her hand atop his where it rested on the starboard rail. "If Lanny were physically able, he'd be making this journey with you. My father can't do this one last thing to bring victory to the rebels and peace to this country. But I can."
The humid breeze rippled along the river, tripped through the towering tree branches and caressed Catherine's face and bare arms. Murdock latched his fingers around the side of her neck and stroked her chin and bottom lip with his thumb.
"You're quite a woman, Catherine Price." And far too good a woman for the likes of me, he thought.
"And you're muy hombre," she teased.
"I'm glad you're not still angry with me over Landra."
"Have there really been a lot of women?"
"Hellfire, Cat! You don't ask a man a question like that."
"All right, I'll rephrase the question. Are you really a womanizer?"
"Damn!" he cursed under his breath. "Let's just say the older I got the more discriminating my tastes became. I go more for quality than quantity these days."
"So, you're not quite the hell-raiser you were when you were younger, huh? Then why did you want me to believe that—"
He tightened his hold around her neck, drawing her toward him. She lifted her face to his and waited, with bated breath, for his lips to descend. As the boat passed a clearing along the riverbank, the moonlight broke through and washed the edge of the deck with shimmery light.
"Mi hermosa gata," Murdock whispered against her lips.
"What—what does that mean?" Her lips quivered as they sought his and her hands crept up the front of his shirt.
"My beautiful cat," he told her, then covered her mouth with his.
The kiss robbed her of breath and weakened her knees, but Murdock ended it abruptly. "That's why I told you about my bad-boy ways, Miss Catherine. I want you to know exactly the type of man I was and am and the kind of life I've lived."
"Don't you think I have a pretty good idea? I knew before we ever met that you were a man like Lanny and … no matter how strong the … er … the sexual attraction is between us, I could never … I would never allow myself to … to—"
"To care about a guy like me." He finished her stuttering sentence for her. "Maybe I don't want you to care. Maybe all I want is to work off a little frustration in the sack."
Her back stiffened. She withdrew from him. Physically. Emotionally. "Then I suggest you stick with women like Landra."
Gazing out over the dark water and listening to the faraway echoes from the jungle, Catherine and Murdock separated themselves, each wary of the intense emotions the other aroused. They stood side by side, not touching, not speaking, for endless moments. After what seemed like an eternity to Catherine, Murdock broke the silence.
"Let's take advantage of the captain's offer for us to use his cabin."
"What?"
"I'm tired. You're tired. And come morning, we have a long trek on foot to reach Celendin. Let's try to get some sleep."
Murdock turned to go, took several steps, then glanced back over his shoulder. "You coming?"
The last thing she wanted was to spend the night in close quarters with Murdock. To share another bed with him. To lie at his side and not touch him. To ache with a need almost beyond bearing.
"Yes, I'm coming." She followed him toward the captain's cabin.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
The captain's bed hadn't been built for a man of Murdock's size, let alone to be shared with a woman as tall as she. Murdock's feet hung off the end and his massive shoulders took up more than half the mattress space. He had offered to sleep on the minimum floor space and Catherine had said she could sleep in the chair. They had quarreled to the point of ridiculousness, then simultaneously agreed that in order to spend the next few hours resting instead of wasting time in a no-win argument, to just share the bed. That had been at least an hour ago and Catherine lay there wide-awake, clinging precariously to the edge of the bed butted against the wall. If she moved two inches, she'd be touching Murdock.
The hum of the gunboat's motor rumbled in her ears. Indistinct cries echoed from within the jungle that flanked the Rio Negro tributary that wound its way along the Zarazaian border and into Brazil. The constant lapping of the river and the light rainfall blended softly with the other noises until they became a monotonous rhythm. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.
She closed her eyes again and tried to concentrate on pleasant things. A faculty luncheon. An evening at the symphony. An afternoon spent in the backyard swing reading a good book.
But Murdock disturbed those pleasant thoughts. He showed up at the faculty luncheon, wearing the camouflage fatigues Landra had provided. And he sat beside her at the symphony, his big hand resting on her bare knee. And she lay with her head in Murdock's lap, in the backyard swing.
Damn! The man wouldn't stay out of her thoughts! If she didn't stop thinking about him, she'd never get any sleep.
Count sheep, she told herself. Or count the women in Murdock's past. Stop that! her inner voice called. You're doing it again. Relating everything to Murdock.
Her shoulder and hip ached from lying in one position for so long, but if she tried to turn over, she would end up halfway on top of her traveling companion. That's how Murdock had referred to her when he'd introduced her to Luscious Landra. The woman had immediately assumed a certain relationship existed between Catherine and Murdock and hadn't been able to hide her jealousy. Landra had immediately jumped to the conclusion that although they were not yet intimately involved, it was only a matter of time before Catherine and Murdock became lovers.
Why didn't she just tell her that she and Murdock were already lovers? Catherine asked herself. That she knew exactly what a muy buen amante Murdock was. She could have told Landra that she was reaping all the benefits from his years of experience! That would have dulled the other woman's brilliant smile a bit.
"Hmpph!"
"Did you say something?" Murdock asked, his voice low and rough.
Catherine jumped as if she'd been shot. "Dammit, Murdock, I thought you were asleep. You scared me to death."
"I thought you were asleep. You haven't moved a muscle since we lay down." He rolled over onto his side so that their bodies spooned together. Her back to his chest. His groin to her buttocks. "What's wrong? Can't you sleep?"
Her first instinct was to melt against him, to absorb all that manly aura and drown in an overdose of testosterone. But her second instinct was to claw her way through the wall she faced in order to escape. No good can come from this, she warned herself. All he wants is to work off a little frustration in the sack. Making love won t mean anything to him. But it will to you, her conscience reminded her. Remember that simple little fact.
But why does it have to mean something to me? she quarreled with herself. She had a great deal of frustration that needed to be worked off, too, didn't she? It's not as if she was back in Huntington, Tennessee, living a normal life. She was far removed from everything and everyone important to her. She was stuck in a nightmare, not of her own making. She had a right to act out of character. To give in to her baser instincts.
"Catherine?"
He draped his big, hairy arm across her waist and over her belly. Every muscle in her body tightened painfully. She opened her mouth into a wide oval as she pulled air into her lungs in a shuddering gasp. The quivering began in her head and slowly radiated down her shoulders and into her arms.
"Cat, honey, what's wrong?" He grabbed her waist and flipped her over to face him. "Are you sick? Hurting?"
Moonlight bathed the tiny cabin with a pale, creamy radiance and cast soft shadows across the bed. Catherine looked directly at Murdock's face. That hard jaw, darkened by beard stubble. Those chiseled cheekbones. The lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth. The gray that streak
ed his short sideburns and peppered lightly through his dark hair.
"I've never had sex except when I was in a committed relationship," she told him, her voice an uncertain whisper. "But I don't care. I want you. I want you so much."
Murdock felt as if he'd been slammed in the belly with a sledgehammer. The last thing he had expected was an invitation to fulfill a fantasy that had plagued him since the moment he set eyes on Catherine Price. He had thought about taking her. Had considered a dozen and one things he wanted to do to her and have her do to him. Hard and fast and white-hot. Slow and sweet and earth-shattering. He on top. She on top. From the rear. From the side. Standing up, bracing her against the wall. Her sitting in his lap. His hands all over her. Her hands stroking him. His mouth on her, tasting, plunging, loving. Her mouth on him, pleasuring him.
His sex grew hard and heavy. Turning on his side, he lifted himself into a semisitting position. Without saying a word, he unbuttoned the camouflage shirt she wore and spread it apart to reveal the naked flesh beneath. He'd been well aware that she had discarded her bra back at El Paraiso del Diablo when she'd shed the dirty Zarazaian uniform.
Catherine didn't move. Barely breathed. Murdock cupped one full, firm breast in his hand and strummed the tip with his thumb. She shivered. As he continued the assault, she closed her eyes and arched her back. With practiced ease he slipped the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms, then quickly discarded it before unbuttoning his own shirt.
When his mouth covered the begging nipple of her unattended breast, Catherine keened, the sound reverberating from deep in her throat. As he tormented each breast, she arched her back, then reached for him and threaded her fingers through his hair. Opening his mouth, he flicked out his tongue in repeated forays on one tight point and gently pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger, until Catherine writhed and cried out, pleading. Grasping the strands of his hair curled about her fingers, she held his head to her body, wild with need.
"Please … please…" she mumbled.
With his mouth still on one breast, he reached down to unsnap and then unzip her pants. Not bothering to do more than drag the camouflage trousers a couple of inches lower on her hips, he slid his hand inside the red silk panties Landra had provided for her and cupped her mound. She bucked against his hand and for just a minute, he thought he was going to lose control.
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