Stranded with a Stranger

by Frances Housden

  He strode away, clipped on the safety line and never looked back. Chelsea sighed as she watched. She’d learned manipulation in her cradle by watching her father, but even her late father couldn’t get it right every time. Choosing to bring his cousin Arlon into Tedman Foods because her grandmother had thought it the right thing to do had been like springing a viper on his unsuspecting company. When she got home she would have auditors go right back through the books, back to her father’s time as head of the company.

  Arlon hadn’t learned to plunder Tedman Foods to the extent that Atlanta’s letter had indicated unless he’d started small and been working his way up to the big haul.

  She clipped her ascender onto the line and grabbed her ice axe to steady her when they crossed the rough parts, which was most of the time. Kurt didn’t appear to be having the same problem. She mulled it over and decided it had to be his big feet. It was only what you would expect from a man his size—big feet, a long blade of a nose, big hands, big… Darn, she hadn’t intended to go there, but she just had to look at him and the word sex shimmered on the edges of her vision.

  As last she made out some yellow splotches on the horizon. “Are those our tents?” she called out.

  Kurt turned, “Yeah. Nuwa’s crew has made good time. And if we’re lucky he’ll have a special treat ready. Coffee never tasted so good. At eighteen thousand feet it tastes like ambrosia.”

  They weren’t the only teams camped there. Basie Serfontien and the South Africans had set up their tents close to theirs, and a Russian outfit was settling in on the other side.

  She watched Kurt frown. He turned to Paul. “Slightly overcrowded up here.”

  Why was Kurt so annoyed? To her inexperienced eye there looked to be loads of room. “What does it matter?”

  “It’s a matter of hygiene. Some climbers aren’t too careful about where they empty their waste. That’s probably how Paul got sick last time, and at this height it’s damn dangerous.”

  She noticed Paul quite often went over to talk with the South Africans and sounded homesick when he came back.

  “Tedman Foods has a plant near Port Elizabeth. Do you know it?” That set Paul off. Soon he was telling her stories of South Africa, and again she wondered what the mountains of Nepal had to tear him away from home.

  After a day and two nights they moved on to Camp Two, still on the icefall. She hadn’t expected to find so much traffic on the mountain, but the season was closing in and with it the chances of some climbers missing out on reaching the summit.

  So far, she had adjusted well. Running had expanded her lung capacity and taught her to control her breathing. She was sure that helped. But climbing to the next level was like starting over.

  Kurt was as good as his word. He let her manage her way. But she’d have had to be blind not to react to the man who’d taught her so much about herself without realizing it.

  She was a product of a privileged upbringing.

  It was hard to turn all that around in a few weeks. Sure, she worked for IBIS, but she wasn’t a field agent. Some days her hours would be long, but mainly she could have been working in an office. In Paris she’d run, gone to the gym and worked out on the climbing wall, pitting her skills against the most difficult runs. But when she had finished, she’d had a shower, gone home, or maybe dropped into a fashionable beauty spa to have her hair and nails done.

  She had never had to face the day-to-day slog that was needed to become a successful climber. In these surroundings there was no such thing as a comfy bed like the one she had pictured sharing with Kurt.

  It didn’t take long to realize her sister had become a whole person long before Chelsea had discovered such a state existed.

  She was tired at the end of the day—a good tired. One she’d earned by pitting her mind and body against nature in its most primitive form.

  Not the exhaustion of staying up half the night dancing at some function attended by people just like her who had no idea this type of life existed—or if they did, didn’t care to try it.

  Her experiences gave her a better notion of what it took to be a Sherpa, and live year in, year out in Sagarmatha National Park.

  About midafternoon Kurt stopped until she and Paul drew level. “We’re coming up to the last crevasse on the icefall. You’ll remember it, Paul.”

  He paused a minute before going on, looked at her and said, “This one’s the biggie, but I know you can cross it. You’ve taken the others in your stride and this next one is exactly the same, just a little longer. Don’t let the distance bother you. It’s just a few more steps.”

  Chelsea pushed her glacier glasses onto her forehead and rolled her eyes. “If that speech was supposed to be encouraging, Kurt, don’t take up brain surgery. Your bedside manner stinks.”

  He did the same—pushed up his glasses and gave her a smile that turned her bones to water, as if Paul wasn’t standing right beside her. What had happened to being careful not to let anyone know there was anything between them? She supposed Paul didn’t count. Had Kurt discounted Paul as the person who had started the vicious rumors about him?

  She had to admit it was difficult acting like virtual strangers 24/7.

  “Are you trying to tell me my tact and diplomacy need work?”

  Darn, she wished he wouldn’t smile at her that way. His habit of quirking his mouth to one side made her insides quiver. She should have foreseen his response before the words bedside manner left her lips. “All I’m saying is you need to learn how not to scare people half to death.”

  Paul started chuckling on the other side of her. “Heh, heh, she’s got you there, man. You’ve got me thinking twice about that crossing now.”

  Kurt punched Paul on the arm. “Cut that out. Chelsea I might manage to carry across on my back, but not you.”

  “What do you mean?” Paul looked her up and down. “She’s taller than I am.”

  “Yeah, but haven’t you noticed? She’s a woman.”

  Indignant, Chelsea tried fisting her hands on her hips, but it was difficult with so much equipment hanging from her belt. So she stamped a boot, just missing the loops of nylon safety line they were all attached to. “For goodness sake, leave it alone, you guys. I can manage, and you both know it. I can pull my weight. I don’t need any man to carry me.”

  Paul slipped an arm under hers and pulled her closer. “We know that. We’re teasing. It doesn’t do any harm to release a bit of tension. How would it have looked if we’d started laughing on the edge of the crevasse?”

  Kurt slipped his glasses back down his face and began shaking out the line to prevent knots forming. “Nichols might have gone chuckling off the side of the ladder to his doom. This guy has kept me awake with his never-ending supply of sick jokes, and he finds it impossible not to start laughing before he gets to the punch line.”

  “I’ve heard him.”

  “See, Paul. You’ve been keeping Chelsea awake, as well. Let’s move on out before she starts snoring.”

  If anyone kept her awake, it was Kurt. She’d never felt so lonely as the times she slept in her tent alone, never felt so cold without Kurt near her. She missed him.

  Not just his lovemaking, wonderful as it had been, but simply hearing him breathe as he slept.

  Instead of sleeping, she had lain there with her eyes closed, speculating about the future. What happened after they recovered her sister and Bill Chaplin?

  Did he really expect them to part and go on with their lives as if this mad passion had never taken hold of them? As if he’d never tumbled her into his warm embraces, making her cling to him as she had never clung to another man in her life?

  She, for one, couldn’t take that step backward. At the first opportunity, she would resign from IBIS.

  And then what?

  It was in the lap of the gods, or maybe the goddess. She hoped the local deity was looking down at her with favor. Hadn’t she asked for her help the day before they left Base Camp? The porters had erected a post
and strung prayer flags from it. Afterward, the lama had arrived, offering prayers as he banged the traditional bells together. Before they finished they had all thrown barley flour to the wind and burned juniper as an offering, then white and cream silk scarves had garlanded their necks. A pretty ritual, all the more blessed because of the hope it brought in its wake.

  Kurt crossed the crevasse first. From the far side she watched him slide his hands along the ropes. His long-legged stride hit every second rung, the fragile bridge dipping under his weight. The bridge consisted of three aluminum ladders knotted together with cord.

  Surely someone could come up with a better rig than that?

  In compensation, though this crevasse was wider than the others she had crossed, an icy protrusion balanced one side of the ladder halfway across.

  “Okay, Chelsea, you now. But take your pack off. I’ll come back for it once I have you safely on this side.”

  Paul helped her off with her backpack. Chelsea shivered straightaway, missing the pack’s weight and warmth. “Don’t be nervous,” he said. “It’s no different from any crossing we did on the way up here. Just put one foot in front of the other, and soon you’ll be on the other side.”

  He gave a gentle push on her back. “Go on, now. Take a deep breath and set yourself up.”

  All right for him to say “Set yourself up.” He wasn’t staring at a hundred-foot drop so dark green the bottom looked like deep water—but she knew it was a darn sight harder.

  She took a couple of breaths and steadied herself. Calm now, calm. Her thoughts took the shape of the words she used with her horses. All she had to do was throw her heart over and follow it.

  “You’re doing great,” Kurt called as she reached the halfway mark, but she kept her head down as if her life depended on that next step.

  From behind her Paul shouted, “Not much farther. I knew you had it in you. You’re a right little battler, Chelsea.”

  Ten more feet and she’d be across.

  Ten more of her steps.

  She counted them. One, two…eight, nine. She glanced up as she went to put her foot on the last rung and saw Kurt waiting, arms outstretched ready to grab her.

  All of a sudden she wanted him to do just that—grab her, hold her and never let go. She laughed. “Here I am, K—” But she never finished the sentence as the last rung disappeared under her weight and her right foot flailed at fresh air.

  The blood drained from her face.

  Off balance, she dropped through the gap. Her automatic reflex was to let go with her right hand to stop her face bashing into the ladder. The judder went straight up her arm. Luckily she didn’t let go with her other hand. It tightened on the rope.

  A lifeline.

  No shouts of dismay battered her ears. Somehow the shocked silence was more terrifying. In the longest moment of her life she was haunted by the thought that she might end up an ice maiden, forever swimming in the green depths of a crevasse.

  The safety line at her waist was forgotten as the ice reached up to grab her. She felt a jerk as the line locked up.

  Kurt began reeling her in. Then, placing his hands under her armpits, he pulled her into his arms, holding as if he would never let her go.

  For long minutes Kurt held Chelsea against his chest, though they weren’t as long as the mind-numbing seconds when he’d seen her fall. Instead of his past life flashing before him, he saw his future, barren and empty without Chelsea.

  Once he’d regained enough composure to let her go, he yanked off one of his gloves with his teeth. He had to touch, to feel the heartbeat that proved she was alive. Cupping her pale face in his palm, needing the closeness when he found his voice, Kurt asked, “Are you okay?”

  Tell me you’re all right.

  “I’m fine…just breathless,” she said at last, then ducked back into the security of his chest.

  He felt her breasts rise and fall as if she was sobbing, but she didn’t utter a sound. With his back turned to the others, he hid her from curious eyes. “I think our secret just got out.”

  She looked up at him at last. Her eyes were slightly puffy, but not too bad. He glanced over his shoulder as the ladder rattled. Paul was sliding across the gap after her.

  “I can pretend I’ve been crying. No one will blame me.”

  “God knows you’ve a right, but it’s not your style, Chelsea, is it?” He put her aside. “Take a minute to get it all together again. Any bruises I should know about?”

  “Nothing I want you to rub. That could be more dangerous than bridging the huge crack in the ice that Paul is scampering over.”

  He turned. With what appeared to be more luck than judgment, the South African was almost across. “Mind that rung at the end.”

  Paul was panting, but for a change still had breath to talk. “Hell, Kurt. I figured she was a goner. What a lucky break. I was sure we were about to witness a repeat performance.”

  Kurt held out his hand to Paul. “You didn’t see it last time.”

  Paul’s hand locked with his, then the smaller man leaped over the gap. “I know, but I feel as if I had. Remember, it was me who met you coming back down.”

  “Yeah, I remember. You said you felt better and decided to follow us. That was dangerous to do on your own, almost as dangerous as the way you came across that bridge.”

  “That piddling little thing doesn’t faze me. I spent years in the South African navy.”

  “You never said.” Kurt was struck by the thought that though Paul often talked about his homeland, it was mostly superficial, nothing personal or revealing. What did he really know about this guy? Was Paul pissed off enough over missing his chance to get to the top to have planted the rumor that questioned why he, Kurt, had survived when they’d all left camp roped together?

  “You never asked. But never mind that. How’s Chelsea?”

  “A little shaken, but pulling herself together just fine. See for yourself.” He turned to see Chelsea calmly sitting on top of his pack. Absolutely amazing, no one would believe she’d nearly fallen to her death and taken his heart with her.

  That’s why he couldn’t resist teasing her. As Paul walked over to Chelsea, Kurt called out, “If she needs another shoulder to cry on, you can provide it. I’m going back to collect her gear before Rei comes across.”

  Well, she was the one who’d brought up pretending to cry.

  When Kurt reached the other side Rei asked, “How is the little miss?”

  “She’ll survive, Rei.” He knew Rei liked Chelsea, and thought it was funny how the Sherpa, who was a head shorter, saw her as utterly feminine and in need of protection, like the fragile flowers that bloomed only occasionally in this frozen environment. What was even funnier was that for all Chelsea’s tough streak, she’d become someone whose life Kurt was driven to protect with his.

  Chapter 11

  Chelsea had been climbing mountains for over a month if she included the time spent with Kurt on Ama Dablam. She was counting on this being the last time she would have to climb back to Camp Three. The fragile aluminum bridge had lost all its terrors now that she’d crossed it so often.

  They were in the Western Cwm, a silent place compared to the icefall. Huge crevasses striated the flat floor of the valley, but there was no need to cross them. The snow was thick, squeaking under the weight of her boots. This was the only part of the route where Kurt didn’t insist on her being roped to him and she could walk by his side instead of staring at his back.

  The temperature in the valley was up in the nineties because of the reflection off the snow. They had all stripped down to their undershirts and wore silk and cotton squares draped under their baseball caps to keep the sun off their necks.

  A few days ago they had been in Base Camp, recuperating and doing housekeeping chores before starting back up. She smiled as the memory teased her. “You know, Kurt, if I told any of my friends at the embassy that I’d gone almost four weeks without a shower, they would think I’d gone mad.” />
  His mouth quirked, making her certain he was winking behind the dark goggles. “Yeah, just when you’ve gotten used to the smell, you have to start again.”

  “For all its meager dribble of barely warm water, it felt like the best shower I have ever taken.”

  Kurt looked behind him. She turned, as well. Paul was fifteen yards back. The soft dark hairs on Kurt’s forearm brushed hers as his next step brought him closer. Without easing his pace, he said, “I enjoyed my shower as well, but yours was sheer torture for me. Guarding the screen and knowing you were naked behind those thin squares of cloth was the worst kind of temptation. I get hard just thinking of you all wet and slippery.”

  He glanced down as he finished speaking.

  She flushed, knowing he would see the telltale signs of her reaction to his words. Her breasts felt too big for her bra and the tips were like little bullets trying to pierce their cotton confines. But the wet and slippery place was between her thighs.

  “Don’t say things like that to me when you know there is nothing we can do about it. It’s been so long since we made love, it’s been more than torture. It’s been hell.”

  “Join the club, Teddy bear. When we get out of here I’m going to take a room at the Peaks Hotel close to yours and hope nobody sees me creeping along the corridors in the dead of night.”

  She pouted. “I can’t wait, but I’m sick of all this sneaking around when we really have nothing to hide.”

  “I’ve told you, I can’t be sure that it wasn’t Paul who started the rumor. It’s okay to act friendly, though. After more than a month in each other’s company that’s only natural. But we can’t let it go any further. So don’t you go thinking about my great body and making google eyes at me while we’re eating dinner or you’ll give the game away.”

  Chelsea burst out laughing. The brute. Kurt had done that intentionally to cut the tense atmosphere that sizzled so strongly Paul could probably see waves of heat rising. “Could be it’s because you took a shave and I can see what a stud you are under your beard.”