She took two steps forward.
“Ouch!” Jim sat up fast, blurry-eyed, rubbing the crown of his head.
“Oops. Did I bump you?” she asked sweetly. “I’m so sorry. It’s just so dark in here, I—”
“Dark.” He scowled. “Yeah, it’s darn near the ‘Black Hole’ of Calcutta in here.”
“Now that you’re up, though, we should get started. The staff’s anxious to clean the place.”
He blinked twice, then looked her up and down. “And you’re going to start scrambling up those walls if we sit around here any longer, aren’t you?”
“I—” She started to deny it, then shrugged. What was the point? “I hate everyone getting ahead of us.”
“Hmm.” Yawning, he rubbed his bristly chin. “Just because they’re stumbling around out there doesn’t mean they’re getting anywhere. Why waste the energy?”
“Because we’re falling behind!”
“Or we’re thinking first, instead of jumping in without looking. Jumping in can get you killed in some of the places I’ve been, Kate. I don’t recommend it.”
“But we don’t know anything!”
He shrugged, completely unconcerned. “We’re not going north or south. We know that much.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s ever so much help.”
There was agitation in every line of her body, a jerkiness in each movement. She was just annoyed enough to be graceless, he thought, finding the contrast fascinating. He’d assumed her fluidity was natural, her grace born in her bones. Its absence now hinted that perhaps it was studied and practiced, a skill deliberately honed as surely as he’d earned his expertise on a horse. He was alternately intrigued by the thought that she could control her motion to such a degree, and vaguely irritated that she was such a calculated construct. Was there nothing about her that was real? Perhaps she was nothing more than a lure, carefully designed to draw hapless men, efficient as an expertly tied fly tossed in front of a ravenous trout.
“We’re falling miles behind with every second. I can feel it.”
He resigned himself to the fact that he’d obviously be getting no more sleep. His bones creaked as he rolled to his feet. Nasty sound; he used to sleep on solid stone without a single protest from his body, he thought sourly. At this rate he’d become one of those prissy aristocrats he used to laugh at, one who traveled with a tea service and a tester bed and every other comfort they could cram onto a raft of servants.
“Floor a bit hard for you, hmm?”
The kind of man Kate would no doubt prefer to travel with. “Not a bit,” he said, and bounced energetically on the balls of his feet to prove it. “Good for the posture, you know. And the character. Wouldn’t want to go all soft.” He surrendered to a yawn. “Now, then. Permit me to share a bit of hard-earned knowledge”
“By all means.” Perfectly sweet words, but a sharp enough edge of sarcasm in her tone that he checked himself for blood.
“First off, it’s absolute foolishness to wear yourself out running off in all directions without being absolutely sure of where you’re going. A complete waste of energy and resources.”
Her mouth pinched, as if she wanted to argue but recognized the futility.
“Exhaustion is equally stupid. Perhaps even fatal.”
“Fatal.” She blanched, cheeks going pale as perfect linen.
Good. People who went on expeditions as a lark, without a proper understanding of the seriousness of the undertaking, were dangers not only to themselves but to those who tried to save them. He had a damn strong suspicion what role he was fated to play in this partnership.
“Yes, fatal. For all the circus of last night, this isn’t likely to be play. One makes much better decisions when one is well rested. Even more, it’s sometimes difficult to predict when you’ll be able to sleep again. One of the first things I learned from the doc was how to rest fast and hard when you can.”
“You’re hinting I should go to sleep.”
“It wasn’t a hint.” Not now that he got a good look at her. Her eyes were red, the circles under them purple-gray. Not her best colors, and he’d have no compunction about pointing it out if the situation called for it.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she told him and ran an agitated hand through the tumble of hair that had come undone.
Did it fall into that luxurious, touchable disarray all on its own or did she coax it into place? “Consider it beauty sleep,” he suggested.
“I couldn’t,” she said, her mouth curling in disdain as she inspected the snarl of blankets he’d used as a bed.
“If you’re too much of a princess to sleep on the floor of the Grand Ballroom I can’t wait to see how you handle the jungle.”
She sniffed. “I’ve slept on the floor before.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I have!” she insisted.
“With how many thousands of dollars of carpets beneath you?”
“Not a one.”
He tucked his tongue in his cheek and inspected her skeptically. “When?”
She froze a second before her mouth curved into a smile, one so flirty and sensual it took a moment before his brain started up again and reminded him that it didn’t mean a thing.
“Maybe, someday, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you all about it,” Kate said with as much innuendo as she could muster. No reason for him to ever know, she thought, that the lone occurrence had been at her sister’s. She’d much rather hint at a past as adventurous as his.
“Can’t think of one, hmm?”
“I don’t know why you think you know me so well. We’ve been in each others’ company perhaps an hour in our entire lives.”
“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”
“Implying there aren’t a lot of depths to plumb?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” If she murdered him on the spot, she’d never win. Not to mention his suffering would be over too quickly for her taste. There’d be lots of opportunities in the coming weeks. And so she tamped down the anger that he seemed to provoke so easily and let her smile soften. “You know, I’ve changed my mind. You’re right, of course.”
“I’m right?”
If she’d known that was all it took to put that expression of dumb shock on his face she would have agreed with him a long time ago. “Of course. I really should gather my rest while I can,” she purred in a tone that would have had her sisters gagging.
He looked smug enough to choke on it. He really didn’t think much of her, did he, to believe that his transparent challenge had prodded her into bed against her will? Ah, well. She’d been underestimated all her life, an oversight she often found convenient.
She slipped between the blankets. They still held something of him, scent and temperature, and everything inside her went soft. “They’re still warm,” she murmured. “I really don’t know why I fought it.” She stretched, arching her back.
Jim recognized her motion was a deliberate punishment, payback for his comments. It worked just the same. His mouth went dry, his heart sped up, and his eyes fastened on that lush curve, as she’d no doubt intended.
It was a blow to discover that despite his best intentions he was as predictable as any man. If he allowed her to see his weakness, the next three months were going to be about as much fun as crawling across a desert.
“It doesn’t have to be a traditional bed, does it?” she asked softly.
She was sensual as hell, thoroughly in control, and he was right on the edge of losing it. He stared at her, knowing she couldn’t miss the heat in his eyes, his struggle for control.
And then she blushed, sweet as a virgin, as if she finally realized her blatant innuendo.
Words had been on the tip of his tongue, just this side of crude, ready to toss suggestions back to see how she’d react. But her blush blunted his words and the sharp edge of his anger. She couldn’t summon up that color at will. No one could be that good.
“Get some sleep. O
r at least some rest,” he added when he could see she meant to protest. “You’ll need your energy soon enough. I’ll frown over the map and the clues for a while. I’m as capable of being stumped by them as you.”
Surprisingly, she closed her mouth, nodding a simple agreement.
He turned his back quickly—he had enough of seeing her on his blankets, and figured it was best not to test himself quite yet. Her allure was still new to him after all, born of only a few hours in her presence. That, and a young man’s memories, dwelled on too often in lost places when he’d needed something to hold on to. It would undoubtedly get better over the course of the competition. Even the prettiest view paled with familiarity. No doubt her incompetence and complaints would overwhelm her appeal in no time. It’d likely be only a day or two before he could look at her and feel nothing but annoyance.
He pondered the map for only a moment before deciding it was pointless. The answer to that silly clue—did they have no one at that paper who could come up with something more interesting than a child’s rhyme?—was not going to jump out from the map and announce itself. And he was at a distinct disadvantage. Simply for practical reasons, the first clue was probably within a few days travel. He was far less familiar with the terrain of the northeastern United States than he was with central Africa.
But his partner was not. “Kate, I—” As he spoke, he forgot his good intentions and automatically twisted around to face her. She was fast asleep, head resting on his wadded-up jacket, the blankets and her skirts so tangled around her legs that it would take her a good five minutes upon waking to free herself.
Surely she was safer now, more like other women, stripped of her wiles and seductive smiles and smooth charm.
He walked over to her, crossed his arms, and stared down at her. She slept like a child, fist tucked beneath her chin, hair loose and swooping around her ear, her neck. But older, too; without her studied smile, her determinedly smooth brow, he could see the marks the years had left on her: a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes, hugging her mouth, accenting between her brows. Though he knew she wouldn’t agree, it didn’t detract from her appeal a whit. Who wanted a girl who hadn’t lived when there was a woman full of life and experience instead, one with ideas and opinions of her own to share and explore? Like the difference between a pristine canvas full of potential and one splashed with color and life.
Her mouth fell open and sound rumbled, a snore that would never be described as delicate, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Sleep well, Kate,” he murmured, and went to work.
He’d left her.
It took her a full three minutes, and several blinks of her sleep-clogged eyes, before it registered completely. It was late, much later than she was accustomed to sleeping—the sunlight that pierced, painfully bright, through the tall windows proved that. The room echoed hollowly, all the magic of evening scoured clean. The debris of the night before was still scattered over the floor, like the remnants of a circus once the tent had been struck, and the strong morning light showed the beating the parquet floors had taken. They’d have to buff the entire place.
For a moment she’d thought he’d simply stepped out for a bit. With the random clutter, it wasn’t immediately obvious what was missing.
But his things were gone. Fury knocked quickly behind panic. His pack, his jacket weren’t there. He’d left the blanket beneath her but stripped off the one that had been spread over her shoulders. If chivalry had ever been drummed in his English head, he’d obviously abandoned it before now.
And he’d taken her maps. Left everything else she laid claim to—not to mention Kate herself—as if the maps were the only things of hers that could possibly be of any use.
“Why that…” She scrambled to her feet and kicked aside his blanket with the kind of force she longed to aim at his ungrateful head.
But he’d always taken her too lightly, hadn’t he? Thought her frivolous and easy and loose. More than one man paid for that mistake, often without even realizing it.
He’d learn. She wouldn’t give him any choice in the matter.
Chapter 5
He would not feel guilty about it.
Damn it, he would not.
He slung the saddle off the back of the horse he’d bought within a quarter hour of bolting from that overwrought, overgilded, overheated ballroom. He gave Chief a pat for his efforts. He’d been lucky; the gray gelding was a very fine animal, one of a string of two dozen or so riding horses the hotel kept for its guests’ use. It had been much simpler than he’d expected to convince the stable master to sell him one. Apparently the hotel’s manager, or whomever the man had dashed off to wangle permission from, had decided selling him one might garner a favorable mention in the Sentinel. Fame, he reflected, did occasionally have its uses.
He really was doing her an enormous favor by leaving her behind. He’d move a hundred times quicker without her…and her luggage. And just look at the miserable shack where he intended to spend the night. Not her style at all.
The sun was sinking low, behind the thick grove of oaks that stood behind the…he couldn’t even tell what it had been. A stable, a gardening shed? Maybe a chicken coop. It was here, it was free, and he’d slept in far worse places.
And there wasn’t much choice. He’d made good time, pushed Chief hard in an effort to catch up with the rest of the competitors. Gotten twice as far as he would have with her “help.”
He led the horse around the back of the hut and tethered it near a stand of thick grass. “I know it looks like you should be inside,” he whispered, “but this will have to do. Can you imagine what she would have said if she’d have to stay here?” The horse snorted, blowing air out its nostrils, and Jim chuckled. “Yes, I think so, too.”
He rounded the corner of the shack and stopped dead in his tracks. “Damn.”
Kate descended gracefully from a neat black buggy, beaming at Charlie Hobson as he assisted her down. She wore a deep blue traveling suit, a tiny, feather-topped confection perched on her upswept swirl of gold hair, as elegant as if she were arriving at a garden party.
She had to tug on her hand until Hobson blinked, roused from his stupor like a hypnotist’s dupe. He released her, then Kate turned toward Jim, her smile perfectly in place, but her eyes…he didn’t know whether to flinch or laugh.
“Lord Bennett! I thought that was you,” she said brightly. “How lucky we stumbled across you so quickly.”
“Oh, yes. Lucky.”
“And wasn’t it completely kind of Charlie to offer me a lift?”
“I’m sure he is kindness itself.”
“Hello there, Lord Bennett,” Hobson said, casual tone belied by the way his eyes scanned back and forth between the two of them. “You seem to have left a few things behind.”
“Kate knows I like to travel light.”
“Come now, Jim.” She closed the silk parasol that sheltered her complexion and used it to give him a playful poke in the arm, which nearly sent him reeling. “No need to pretend. It was such a long ride out here, I’m afraid I told Mr. Hobson all about us.”
“You did?”
“But of course.” He got the tip in his ribs this time. Before she could pull it back he snagged the end and yanked, sending her wheeling before she released the umbrella. Her back to the reporter, she glared at Jim. He just grinned and tucked his new prize under his arm.
But the woman did recover quickly. In a blink, her mask was back on. “He asked so politely, how could I refuse to explain our little game?”
“Game?”
“Yes,” With her free hand, she patted Hobson on the arm. “How, when we first met—”
“In Peru, right?” The reporter pulled out his pad and flipped it open, pen hovering above it like a waiting vulture.
It was a clumsy gambit, but Kate sidestepped with ease. “No, I said Brazil.” Her laughter was low, a seductive lure, and Jim saw Hobson swallow hard. The sap was trying hard to hang on to his
professional detachment. He’d give Kate three minutes to destroy it completely. “I’d journeyed there to join my father. He was a botanist. Sadly”—her mouth trembled prettily—“he was dead by the time I arrived. I needed a job, and your expedition sounded so interesting. You said I was hired…if I could find you. Honestly, Lord Bennett,” she said, voice light with chiding disappointment, “it really would be more fun if you posed more of a challenge.”
“I’ll try to do better next time,” he muttered, watching in disbelief as Hobson yanked crate after box after trunk of stuff out of the back of his buggy. Jim had taken less with him to the Arctic.
“There you go,” Charlie said, sweating, red-faced. “Now, if you don’t mind—”
“It was so very kind of you to give me a ride,” Kate interjected, so smoothly it barely registered as an interruption.
Hobson’s brow furrowed. “My pleasure. But now, Lord Bennett, if you don’t mind a few additional questions.” He yanked out his notepad again and flipped through the pages. “If I could just find my notes…ah yes, here we are. Now, when you and poor Matt Wheeler were planning your ill-fated expedition, did you—”
“I don’t talk about that.”
“I’m aware that you haven’t, which is all the more reason that you should. As I’m sure you’re well aware, in the absence of facts people are apt to fill in the spaces in the most imaginative ways. In fact, rumor has it…”
Kate adroitly slipped her hand through Hobson’s arm and leaned against him. Ever so slightly, scarcely enough to be improper, but it was enough to send every thought from his head.
“Mr. Hobson, I am so very grateful for your assistance. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I…”
Jim would be willing to bet ol’ Charlie had more than a few ideas in that regard. It bothered him, though he knew it shouldn’t. What did he care what she promised, or did, with another man? He was only annoyed she’d managed to track him down, he told himself.
A Wedding Story Page 5