by Rebecca York
"Steve, making love with you then was the most earth-shaking experience
I'd ever had-bar none."
"Sweetheart."
"I just didn't know it was going to keep getting better and better."
He murmured more endearments, his voice low and husky as he took her
down to the low bed.
His hands were gentle but sensual as they trailed over her face, down
her neck, and over the tops of her breasts.
"I love you. I love you so much."
She sighed as his lips traced the same path, sending flames flickering
over her skin.
She'd never felt more erotically charged-or more frightened for the
future.
They'd both been thinking about the first time.
Were they both afraid that this might be the last?
Abby pushed that terrible fear away and reached sensuously toward
Steve, her lover, the father of her child, the man who had taught her
so much about how to live each moment to the fullest.
She wanted to savor their relationship.
And she would.
Not just tonight, but for the rest of their lives.
Their long lives.
She clung to that affirmation, even as she looked into his eyes and
trailed her fingers delicately down his chest, following the pace he
had set, knowing that in this desert tent she would give him all the
warm, sweet passion a woman could give the man she loved.
And she did.
S c sED the side of her cheek, and Abby came instantly awake.
She'd been dreaming they were back in their own bed in Baltimore.
That they'd been making love long into the night .
Well, the last part was true.
But this wasn't Greenspring Valley.
Outside, the dawn was only a gray promise, but Steve was already
dressed in the shorts he'd worn the night before and his remaining
clean shirt.
When she stretched, the covers drifted to the tops of her naked
breasts.
She shivered, as much from Steve's heated gaze as from the chilly
air.
She reached out, found his hand, and stroked his fingers across her
lips.
"You look very beautiful. And very tired," he said "Tired, anyway." t
'I'm sorry.
"I'm not."
He settled down beside her.
"I know it's early, and I hate to wake you, but there are some
important things I've been putting off."
Abby nodded.
She knew why he'd waited.
He leaned very close so that his words were barely more than an
exhalation.
"I want you and Shannon out of this camp as soon as possible. I don't
want you here if Singh brings the weapons back."
Abby sat up, feeling the blanket slip as she struggled to frame the
right question.
"If he-" Before she could finish the sentence, the tent flap was jerked
aside.
:like a whip cracking in the dry desert air.
Steve sprang to his feet, whirling to face the entrance, his body in a
defensive,crouch.
Abby shrank back into the bed covers.
The intruder was Amarjit Singh.
"What the hell are you doing barging in to our tent?"
Steve demanded.
'Making your day, as you Americans say.
Abby could see Steve struggling to control his anger.
"I thought early morning was for meditation."
"Unless circumstances dictate otherwise. It's time for your wife to
leave."
The raised voices of the two men awakened Shannon.
The hammock in the corner began to sway, the movement accompanied by a
series of little cries.
Abby started to get up, remembered she was naked, and turned to
Singh.
"I need to take care of my baby, if you don't mind."
"The girl child can wait."
Shannon's whimper told Abby otherwise.
She glared at Singh, then deliberately turned away.
Draping the blanket like a toga around her body, she started toward the
makeshift crib.
But when she reached it, she realized there was no way she could both
hold on to her covering and pick up a squirming infant.
Shannon, however, didn't understand the problem.
She only knew she was hungry and uncomfortable.
As soon as she saw Abby peering down over the side of the hammock, the
cries grew louder, filling the tent like air expanding in a balloon.
"Your transportation will be ready to leave in fifteen minutes," Singh
informed Abby, pitching his voice above the piercing wail.
She stood clutching her arms in front of her as much to hold herself
together as to preserve her modesty.
She was pretty sure the Lion was doing this deliberately.
But why?
But that wasn't the worst part.
Steve had been about to tell her something crucial.
Now what were they going to do?
"My daughter must edt. Would you mind leaving, so I can give her some
breakfast?"
"You mean one of those bottles my wife insisted on ordering?"
Singh sneered.
"Was nursing her too much trouble for you, or were you afraid it would
spoil your figure?"
Abby felt the blood drain from her face.
"I did nurse her," she managed.
"But not now."
Her chin canted up.
"Because you took her away from me," she said.
"It's a bit difficult to maintain a milk supply when you're separated
from your baby.
Maybe Inder-Jeet will explain it to you, if you're interested, " she
said, tension stiffening her speech.
He had the grace to look away from her.
Then he turned back to Steve.
"You will come with me. We have some arrangements to finalize."
It would have been impossible to miss the threatening edge to his
voice.
Yet Steve ignored the warning.
"I believe my wife needs my help."
Striding to the hammock, he bent down and picked up Shannon.
She hiccuped.
Then her cries diminished.
Cradling his daughter awkwardly in one arm, the man who had dealt with
arms dealers, warlords and mercenaries from Calcutta to Canton got a
bottle out of the carton and attached a nipple the way he'd seen Abby
do it.
When he inserted it into Shannon's mouth, she began to suck greedily.
"What? Are American men nursemaids? Is that-why their wives like
bottles of milk so much?"
Singh.
-asiced.
Abby saw Steve's muscles tighten.
At the same time, a look of anticipation flashed on the rebel leader's
face.
My God, was that it?
Had he come here to provoke a confrontation?
Was he Ihoping that an angry Steve Claiborne would slip and reveal
important information before his wife could get out of the camp?
Under the circumstances, it wasn't a bad tactic.
Quickly, she crossed to her husband and extended the hand that wasn't
gripping the blanket.
"Darling, thank you for coming to our rescue," she said softly.
"But I think I can manage now."
For several seconds, their eyes locked, and she tried to telegraph a
warning.
To her relief, she saw his
fury subside.
When he gave her a quick, cocky grin, she drew in a sigh of relief.
"We're wasting time," Singh broke in.
Steve handed Shannon to Abby, holding the blanket in place against her
shoulder while she took her daughter.
As he stepped closer, his head bent toward her ear.
"Get away from him," he whispered.
Or at least that was what she thought he said.
She grasped his arm for several seconds longer.
Then he turned away and faced Singh.
"What did you want to discuss?"
"Come to my tent where we won't be interrupted by women's work."
IN FACT, it was almost an hour before Abby was allowed to leave.
An hour in which she paced back and forth in her tent, stewing.
Finally, two guards came to get her and made her stand for another ten
minutes in the hot desert sun.
She draped the blanket over Shannon's face and closed her own eyes,
swaying slightly as she waited.
Over and over she kept reminding herself of what she had to do.
She had to get out of here.
With Shannon.
She had to get her daughter to safety.
One of the guards barked a command.
Another clasped Abby's arm and began to walk her forward.
Shannon started to cry as the wind from the blades hit her face, and
Abby bent to cradle her daughter's small body with her own.
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to dig her heels
into the sand.
Somehow she kept walking.
Steve wanted her out of the camp, and she knew he was taking terrible
risks to make sure she got away.
She owed it to him not to mess up his plans.
Two of the guards helped her up a set of pull-down metal steps.
A woman followed her inside.
Abby stared at her in surprise.
It was Mrs. Hamadi.
Moments later the helicopter shuddered slightly and lifted them off
into the air.
Abby craned to look out the small rectangular window.
The rebel camp dwindled away below them until it might have been a
collection of tattered toy tents left out in a sandbox.
Several human figures were scattered among the rectangles of canvas.
Abby wondered if one of them was Steve.
Had he watched her board?
Did he know she was actually on the plane?
His last urgent message echoed in her ears.
"Get away from him."
Whom did he mean?
Or had she heard the word wrong.
Had he really said "them' ?
Abby's eyes swung to Mrs. Hamadi.
She was sitting rigidly, as if the noise and the motion terrified
her.
Reaching across Shannon, Abby laid a hand over the other woman's.
"It's okay," she mouthed in the same tone she'd used to comfort
Shannon, knowing it was impossible to hear anything above the noise of
the motor and the baby's cries.
Mrs. Ham' All didn't move.
The wind was beginning to pick up, bringing @4ck vivid memories of the
earlier flight when they'd crashfd in the sandstorm.
Some of her tension dissipated as they left the blowing sand behind.
Soon they were descending over a small airport.
Abby searched the skyline and saw a concentration of taller buildings
in the distance, which could have been New Delhi.
She began to think about an escape attempt as soon as they touched
down.
Surely there would be people around who could help her.
But the ground crew stayed pointedly away from Singh's helicopter.
The guard firmly escorted Abby to a car waiting at the edge of the
airfield.
And Mrs. Hamadi trailed obediently behind.
From there they drove several miles to a walled compound in what looked
like a suburban area.
The house was comfortable, well appointed, and perfectly suited as a
prison.
As far as Abby could tell, there was only one entrance in the
eight-foot wall that surrounded the grounds, and that was closed by a
sturdy wooden gate.
The guard asked Abby to wait in the main hall, where several people
dressed as servants kept her in full view.
Although the men were wearing civilian clothes, their military bearing
made Abby suspect that they were as handy with a rifle as a dust mop.
"In here, please."
Abby stepped into a small room.
Her fingers closed around the telephone receiver offered to her by the
guard.
'Hello?
' t 'Abby?
' She felt a surge of relief at the sound of Steve's voice.
Then she realized he was probably in the communications tent, with
Amarjit Singh standing beside him.
He'd have to be careful about what he said.
So would she.
"How are you?" she questioned, fighting to keep the quaver out of her
voice.
"Fine. Abby, where are you?"
' "At a house in-" She looked at the guard.
"Where are we?"
"In New Delhi," the man clipped out.
Abby relayed the answer, feeling smug that she'd gotten the
information.
"Good."
It was amazing how much Steve managed to convey with that one word.
"When are you joining me?"
Abby questioned, holdint her breath as she waited for the answer.
It I'm not sure.
The wind is up.
"It was starting when I left."
The last thing she wanted to discuss was atmospheric disturbances, yet
she was willing to go through the weather report for the whole Indian
subcontinent if it kept Steve on the phone.
His voice was like a lifeline connecting the two of them.
"It's lucky you got away."
Hearing the double meaning in his words, Abby swallowed around the lump
in her throat.
"I expect we'll hook up in Baltimore."
Abby felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her feet.
Her knuckles turned white as they I clamped around the receiver.
"Steve, what are you telling me? Are you going with Singh to
Oliver's?"
He ignored the question.
"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to say goodbye before you left," he
continued.
"Take care of Shannon. Give her a kiss for me."
"Steve, I love you," Abby choked out.
She.
didn't care how desperate she sounded.
She didn't care about anything but reaching across the nriles to.
her husband.
"Yeah. Love you."
She knew'he was trying to sound as if he were just going down to the
Royal Farm Store for a quart of milk.
She knew he was doing that to fool Singh.
Yet below the casually spoken words she heard the edge of regret in his
voice.
"Remember to do everything I told you."
There was a sharp click on the line.
"Steve? Steve? Wait!"
Abby shouted into the receiver, her free arm clutching Shannon.
The line had gone dead.
She turned quickly to the guard.