“Almost noon. Time to get this show on the road, isn’t it?” he prompted the reporter.
“I guess it is.” Hobson pondered for a moment. “I’ll be following the competitors, writing a daily column. I imagine you’ll be seeing me around.”
“How pleasant.”
He sauntered away, winding toward the platform that had been set up on the far side of the room, pausing on the way to speak to a man the size of a mountain.
“See that fellow the reporter’s talking to? That’s Baron von Hussman. First man to reach the summit of Chimborazo.” Jim sighed in deep regret. “One less unconquered peak.”
Kate knocked away his hand, which he’d apparently forgotten was still resting on her shoulder. “Katie Riley? What was that?”
“You really want him printing in that paper that Kathryn Goodale is wandering around the world completely unchaperoned with me? Ruin your reputation completely,” he said cheerfully. “You’ll never be able to go back to Philadelphia if this gets out. Who’d marry you then?”
Her molars ground together. “I’m not looking for someone to marry me.”
“Maybe not right this very moment,” he admitted. “But if we end up in, oh, the Gobi…well, let’s just say I won’t hold it against you if you decide to go running home. Perfectly natural.”
“Oh, it is, is it?” She just barely resisted the temptation to march up to the platform and announce her presence to everyone there. She hated that he was most probably right. Oh, not that she’d ever want someone to marry her. She’d had quite enough of marriage for one lifetime, thank you very much. But there was no real reason to sabotage her reputation. And she didn’t relish the idea of having her unchaperoned, completely scandalous trip with Jim splattered across a front page for the world to gossip over.
“I told you not to come,” she said in her most severe tone, ignoring the tiny, idiotic corner of her that was relieved to see him.
“You’ve told me lots of things,” he said. “I’m not inclined to start believing them now.”
“I can’t do this with you.”
“And you can’t do it without me.”
“We’ll soon see, won’t we? But I’m not going with you.”
“Fine. Stay here. I’ll split the prize with you anyway. No, no—” He put a finger over her mouth for an instant to shut her up and her heart skipped a painful beat. His finger was hot, rough-textured, astoundingly male. “No thanks necessary. I know it’s generous of me. Least I can do for the doc’s widow.”
“I’m not staying here,” she finally managed.
“Then we go together,” he said, and she thought: Well, we’ll see about that.
“That what you consider adventure garb?” Jim asked, slowly circling her. It was all Jim could do not to laugh. He figured she’d dressed down almost to the point of pain for the occasion. A severely cut khaki skirt, a blouse of shiny white with only two rows of lace, a clever little hat that made it almost impossible to look away from her face. It’d all last about two seconds in that condition, but he had to admit she looked fetching. Silly, completely out of place, but fetching. No wonder the reporter had been hanging around.
She glowered at him. “I suppose you’d rather I dress like that.” She flung a disdainful hand toward the tall trouser-clad woman deep in conversation with a Chinese man who came up to her nose.
“Mrs. Latimore?”
Her head whipped around for another look. “Is that who she is?”
“You could do worse than emulate her. Survived two weeks alone in the Amazon jungle after her canoe capsized. Only one of her party who did.”
“I remember the story.”
“Can you imagine?” Jim went on. “Guides dying on her right and left. Insects the size of your fist, snakes thicker than your arm. Heard she had three different parasites when she escaped the jungle. Why—”
“Enough!” Kate shuddered, maybe even looking a little green around the gills.
She couldn’t last long, Jim thought hopefully. How hard would it be to talk her into parking her pretty butt at the nearest decent inn and waiting for him to bring home the prize?
Despite himself, he felt the hum of anticipation. After the tragedy in the Arctic, he’d delayed undertaking another expedition. The price was too high, the memories too hard. He’d lost his partner, Matt, there, and the breezy self-assurance that he could control everything and everyone he considered under his protection.
But this wasn’t exactly an expedition. And to be lodged head to head against every other explorer he’d every tried to beat to a prize…
“Only one trunk. I’m impressed, Kate.” He bumped the trunk with his toe. “It’s too big, of course, but you shouldn’t have much trouble paring your things down to a reasonable load.”
“The rest are in the stables.”
“Then I hope you didn’t leave anything important in them, because that’s where they’re staying.”
“They are not! I—”
“Well, well. A lover’s spat, is it?” Count Nobile’s oily Italian accent hadn’t softened a bit, Jim thought sourly as he turned to find Nobile already bending gracefully over Kate’s hand. Kate smiled beautifully at him, full of expectation and promise, an expression that could not be more different from the one she usually bent on Jim. “Bennett, my old friend, aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely…”
“Assistant.”
“Assistant?” The count raised a dark eyebrow. “You must pay your assistant well.” He hadn’t yet released Kate’s hand, and lightly traced a finger along the edge of lace spilling over the back of her hand. “Worth?”
“You have an excellent eye, Mr.—”
“Count,” he supplied. “Count Basilio Nobile, at your service.” He made a formal bow. “And my service is certainly excellent,” he went on with clear implication.
Jim felt himself scowling, tried to hide it, knew he failed. Shouldn’t she be taking her hand back before he drooled all over it? “Kind of you to say hello. Don’t feel you need to linger on our account. I’m sure you’ve much to prepare.”
“Oh, my preparations were completed long ago,” he murmured, never taking his warm gaze from Kate’s face. “I never was one to leave things until the last minute.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw some reporter poking in your supplies.”
Count Nobile sighed. “I suppose,” he said directly to Kate, in tones that included no one else, “that I must move on before our friend here forgets his breeding.”
“Lord Bennett?” Kate slanted him a sly glance. “I can’t imagine.”
He gave her hand one last pat and released it with clear reluctance. “I’m certain we shall run into each other along the trail. If, at some point, you find you would prefer to…switch employers, I do hope you will give me an opportunity to make you an offer.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
Jim just managed to keep his mouth shut until Nobile was out of earshot. “If I’d made a proposition like that, you’d have slapped me.”
Her smile was far too pleased. “Quite probably.”
“You do know what he was suggesting.”
“Suggestions are easy,” Kate said. “If I’d taken offense at every veiled suggestion I’ve received over the years, my hand would never stop burning.”
And how many had she not bothered to stop? The thought came on a surge of acid, a searing burn of anger that hazed his vision and scalded beneath his skin.
After all, she hadn’t slapped him yet, had she? He was not so vain to believe that he was so different than the rest. That in all the years since they’d met, and likely several before, she hadn’t welcomed the attentions of others as easily as she’d seemed to welcome that blasted count’s.
“If you catch him unawares,” he said, “I’d swear his accent isn’t half so deep.”
“It is quite charming, isn’t it? No wonder he’d want to maintain it.”
“Almost got himself slaughtered in
Persia once. The Shah’s not fond of sharing his wives.” He leaned closer. “Of course, some say it was the wives who’d ordered his execution.” He tsked. “Disappointed women. They’re dangerous creatures.”
“As I’m sure you know well,” she said smoothly.
“Bennett! Fancy seeing you here.”
Christ, Jim thought. Not another one. He turned reluctantly.
“Major.”
Major Huddleston-Snell looked as if he’d just stepped out of the army he’d quit a decade ago. His carriage was rigidly correct, his face ruddily healthy, his jacket pressed into complete submission.
“How long has it been?”
Not long enough. “Haven’t kept track.”
“No?” The major tapped a finger along his ruddy cheek, appeared deep in thought. “Oh yes, looking for the source of the Zambezi, wasn’t it? Sorry about that. I wouldn’t have set out if I’d known you were headed that way. No reason for both of us to flounder around out there.”
“Of course not.” Jim was pretty damn sure the man had paid one of Jim’s native guides a hefty sum to reveal Jim’s next objective, but he’d never been able to prove it.
“And who would have thought I’d stumble across that diamond mine out there? Not that financial gain is ever my primary goal. Driven by scholarly pursuits, as you well know. Still, it’s a great luxury to know your expeditions are well funded for the immediate future, isn’t it?” He blinked in mock horror, as if realizing what he’d just said. “Sorry, old chap. I didn’t mean—”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” No more than he’d meant it any of the other times he’d stolen a prize that Jim had damn near killed himself to discover. Or even the time he’d—didn’t mean it, sorry old chap—led a warring tribe right into the middle of Jim’s camp.
“So? Are you going to introduce me to your lovely companion?”
“No.”
“I can well see why you’d prefer to keep her to yourself, but I didn’t realize you were so shy about competition.”
“Live and learn.”
“Very well.” Major Huddleston-Snell tipped his hat to Kate, who’d watched the entire episode with cool interest. “I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities to become acquainted.”
Back regiment-straight, the major marched into the crowd.
“Well,” Kate said. “You’ve just collected friends all over the world, haven’t you? I’m a bit surprised you ever come out of the jungle.”
“They keep finding me out there, too.” He jammed his arms over his chest. “Things will go much smoother if we set down a few rules up front. Every expedition needs one clear leader, and I—”
“I quite agree.” She rose from her throne at last, gave her skirts a shake and they settled smoothly over her lovely curves. The porter lugging three suitcases by them nearly fell over ogling. Jim was simply going to have to get her some clothes that did a better job of covering her up. “And in this case, it’s clearly me.”
“What? You couldn’t find a barn in a one-acre field.”
“I am well aware of the advantages of hiring an expert in certain circumstances,” she said, so composed he wanted to shake that calm right out of her. “And that is what I consider this venture. I’m providing the initial invitation, as well as the financing. You are simply the hired—”
The cacophonous clanging of a gong drowned out the rest of her statement, preempting Jim’s response.
As one, the crowd turned toward the platform erected near the far end, backed by soaring windows. The stage held five men in suits, all trying too hard to look impressive.
Charlie Hobson came forward, thumbs tucked in the pocket of his vest. “Welcome,” he boomed. “I trust you all know why you’re here.” He waited for the laughter that never came. “While the pope, the president, and the queen have all decreed the centennial doesn’t begin until next year, we all know when the calendar turns to one-nine-zero-zero, don’t we?” This earned him a cheer. He smiled, smugly gratified, before continuing. “The rules are simple. You will be given one clue now, which will lead you to the next, and the third, and so on. The first competitor to reach the final destination will claim the entire fifty thousand dollars.” Excitement murmured through the room. Hobson held up his hand for silence. “However, if no one achieves the objective by midnight New Year’s Eve, the prize is forfeited.” He paused to allow the impact to sink in. “That’s local time. Whatever local time is at your final destination.”
To her surprise, Kate found herself caught up in the rising tide of enthusiasm that swept through the room. The sensation was so foreign to her that it took her a moment to identify it. Anticipation, exhilaration…her heart pounded in a most uncomfortable way.
“Give us the clue!” someone shouted from near the stage.
Hobson chuckled, clearly relishing his moment in the spotlight. “One more rule. Anyone—and I do mean anyone—caught interfering with another team’s progress or tampering with a clue will be immediately disqualified.”
“Spoilsport,” Jim murmured, and yelped when Kate’s elbow found his ribs.
“And now…” The reporter held out his hand. A fresh-faced young girl scurried forward and posed prettily before placing a scroll in the reporter’s hand. He took his time untying a scarlet ribbon and unrolling the scroll.
“Oh, just read it!” came another shout, followed by a rumble of agreement.
“All right, here you go. Good luck to you all.” And then, reciting in singsong rhythm,
“The wind blows East,
The wind blows West,
The wind blows over the Cuckoo’s Nest;
Shall he go East?
Shall he go West?
Shall he go under the Cuckoo’s Nest?”
There was a heartbeat of silence as everyone held their breath. And then a wild flurry of motion erupted, a tumble of humans shouting, shoving, as if someone had yelled fire! in an overcrowded theater. It seemed only a moment before Jim and Kate stood alone in the room. A fringed blue scarf, handfuls of torn paper, spilled popcorn, a forgotten nosegay cluttered the parquet floor. A streamer drooped from a wall sconce.
Jim’s deep green canvas bag which had been slung on his shoulder dropped to the floor, then he did too. He stretched out, linking his hands comfortably behind his head.
“So, boss,” he said cheerfully, “what do we do now?”
Chapter 4
By Charlie Hobson
Daily Sentinel Staff Writer
And they’re off!
Never before has such a collection of experience, will, and determination been gathered in one place, focused on one single goal. Over the next three months, this reporter shall endeavor to give you the inside story of the greatest contest ever devised by man.
There was a last-minute addition to the list of competitors in the form of the noted explorer Lord Jim Bennett and his very lovely “assistant,” Miss Katie Riley. You can count on more in that regard in subsequent issues of The Daily Sentinel…
Kate paced.
She’d scribbled down the rhyme and now had it spread out on top of her trunk, along with two maps, one of the United States and one of the world, that she was very proud she’d thought to bring along. She stared at them until her eyes crossed and still nothing came to her.
She tried, as she had periodically in the hours since the ballroom emptied out, to settle and ponder, only to jump back up a moment later. It was as if she’d been storing up energy for weeks in preparation for this moment and now it couldn’t be contained. She wanted to go, to get on with it, but there was nothing to expend the energy on. It was making her crazy.
Jim, however, seemed to have no such problem. He’d rested his head on his pack like it was one of the Rose Springs’ excellent pillows, told her to “wake me when you figure out where we’re going,” then dropped off to sleep as easily as a milk-sotted baby. Just one more thing to add to the list of his “annoying” qualities.
She paused in her pacing at his—clea
rly oversized—feet. Glaring down at him with enough heat, it should have scalded him awake instantly. His “con” list was long enough to fill up a reporter’s notebook and then some. Too bad there were a lot fewer entries on the “pro” side.
Except that she needed him if she wanted to win. And, relaxed in sleep, long limbs sprawled out over the floor as if it was his own bed, mouth—lovely mouth—a little open, a scrape of warm brown beard over his jaw, he was just so…so darn pretty.
Silly word to apply to a man, she thought. Never considered that she would. But he was, pretty as a mountain, the ocean, a sunset. Something elemental, soul-deep, that you could look on for a lifetime and never get your fill of.
“Ma’am?”
She swiveled around. Yet another employee, mop in one hand, bucket in the other, waited correctly in the doorway to begin swabbing away the debris of the night’s send-off. She’d shooed three others away before midnight with so little tact it embarrassed her to think of it now. But they’d been an unwelcome reminder of just how long ago all the others had gotten underway.
“Feel free to begin,” she said, sweeping the room with a wide gesture.
“Oh, no,” the young woman said, wide-eyed at the very suggestion. “Can’t be working if the guests are still here. I was just wondering if there was anything I could get you.”
Kate sighed. “Not unless you just happen to have the solution to the first clue handy.”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid that I don’t,” the maid said regretfully. “But I suppose I could try…”
“That won’t be necessary.” The staff might as well have whatever the guest wants engraved on their foreheads. “Just give us ten minutes and we’ll be out of your way.”
It had to be only an hour or two from dawn. They’d extinguished the gaslights hours ago but the room still glowed, moonlight flooding through the high arched windows, gleaming over the glittering, gilded walls and spangling the spotless mirrors that hung between each window. Shadows and moonlight; she’d always thought of Jim that way, and to see him now, even more handsome than she’d remembered, made her stomach lift and press in her chest until her breath came hard.
A Wedding Story Page 4