“You,” he told her simply, brushing the tip of her nose with a kiss, “are unbelievably lovely.”
Her lips turned into a half-shy, half-knowing smile, and her eyes held his with a grave sincerity. She stroked his cheek with fingertips; no words were necessary between them.
He felt humbled by her; she silently thanking him when he had received so much. He kissed her forehead, and once more, her lips, savoring them now with passion momentarily spent, caressing very tenderly. Then he adjusted his weight, leaning beside her on an elbow as he watched her curiously, drawing absent patterns on her flesh that now comforted beguilingly.
“I want you to talk to me now, Blair,” he told her with gentle command. “I can sense it in you—something that needs to come out.”
She returned his scrutiny with dismay. “I … I can’t talk to you,” she murmured.
“Don’t you see, Blair. Whatever was the past has to be cleared up. You find happiness with me, but I want more than the physical. I can sense that something is or was wrong … you were so hesitant, so unsure, and you are so perfect, so breathtaking.” He fell silent for moment, and then his voice took on a graveled edge. “Did Teile hurt you or abuse you in some way?”
“Oh, no!” Blair gasped. “It just may seem trivial …”
“No, sweetheart,” he assured her, seeming to understand something with a breath of relief. “Nothing that has anything to do with the way you think or feel could ever be trivial to me. And Blair—” It was hard to bring up the name of the late Senator Teile now. But even though he had received her and fully given passion, Craig still wanted much more than that from Blair.
He was a fool, he knew. The more he had, the more he would lose.
But he was a man addicted. He could deny himself nothing now, no matter what the eventual consequences.
“Blair,” he repeated, honesty and the need to fully understand her forcing him to take the gamble of bringing up her deceased husband’s name. “Teile was not a trivial man. Nothing about your relationship to him could have possibly been trivial.”
It was his constant, perceptive understanding that did her in. Perhaps she had always wanted to talk, but there had been no one she could talk to. Her father would have lovingly listened, but she would have increased the burden of pain he already carried for her. Kate would have been there, but she might not have understood.
Nor would Blair ever have been able to have spoken to another lover had she ever taken one. No one else could have possibly had the assurance and self-esteem to comprehend without insult or resentment her words of loss and agony for another man.
Craig did know her—the woman Blair. But he did not know the girl she had left behind, daughter of one famed man, widow of another. But she could talk to him, and it suddenly seemed imperative that she do so. Even if she didn’t trust his existence, she did trust his heart. He would never betray her confidence. Next to her, propped on his elbow, legs still entwined with hers, he waited, hazel eyes warm now, colored with patience.
She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and swallowed, and then swallowed again, hoping she didn’t sound ridiculous. Then she spoke. “I suppose this is absurd,” she murmured. “Other women have lost their husbands.”
“Not absurd,” Craig corrected gently. “And few women have lost a husband like Ray Teile in such a manner. Talk to me, Blair. I want to listen, I want to hear about Ray.”
Her words at first were in a strained whisper, but Craig’s hands were lulling, his heat soothing. The strain left her voice; her words continued in a toneless flow. On and on. And it was good to talk. The raw edges began to heal.
She had married Senator Ray Teile right after acquiring her master’s in psychology. It was a sensational Washington wedding, hosted by the nation’s capital. A marriage thought perfect, made in heaven, by everyone.
And Blair was happy. Ray Teile was a good man, God, what a good man. His campaigns were shockingly clean; he never found it necessary to throw dirt at an opponent. His platforms spoke for themselves, he practiced what he preached, he stood steadfast for his principles.
Craig listened to her without blinking. He felt some of her gut pain—he had been an admirer of Teile himself—tough, rough, but smiling and renowned. Surely a fine hopeful presidential candidate in his later years—which he was never to reach. A slender blond man, his bearing spoke of principle and determination, his face a halo of ideals to be dreamed and then achieved.
The honeymoon proved to be somewhat of a surprise—but a surprise that endeared Blair even more to her new husband. A handsome man—the “golden boy” of politics—Ray Teile had always been thought to be something of a playboy.
Not so, Blair discovered. He shyly, but with dignity, informed her he was almost as new at loving as she.
So together they had found themselves, special friends especially close with the secrets they discovered and cherished alone, like two giddy teenagers off on a voyage.
If their sexual relationship hadn’t been wildly passionate or exotic, Craig learned, it was tender. And their life together was wonderful; they were friends, they loved the excitement of working together, they loved the same type of relaxation, they loved their home, they both looked forward to starting a family.
Craig sensed all the things she was feeling as she spoke, emotions that didn’t need to be outlined clearly. They were universal emotions. She felt guilt that she was alive and able to love again while halfway knowing that that was what she must do. She was also afraid; Teile had been a kind and gentle man, a man she had married. Now she was facing an unknown after years of easy comfort and then abstinence.
Craig knew how hard this all was for Blair; he knew how she was trusting him, and it touched his already plummeting heart to fully realize that she had come to him out of instinct and instinct alone.
Trusting, caring.
He didn’t mind hearing about Ray Teile, the real man. Craig could never begrudge the past, and her memories, good and painful, so badly needed this purging.
And so he listened, learning more about Teile, more about Blair.
The senator the world had seen had not been the real man.
No one ever knew that Senator Teile deplored football, disliking the brutality of the game. They never knew that he delighted in flowers, in birds, and soft music.
It was really an amazingly gentle man who became an American dream. But hell, Craig thought, he could understand the image. So many equated manliness to machismo.
And Teile had been good. Really good. Craig could hear it in every word his widow uttered, in her grief as she described him. She had loved him for all that he really was.
And then she had lost him.
Ray Teile had been shot dead by a sniper while on a goodwill tour, surrounded by highly trained secret service agents helplessly unable to do a thing when the first surprise bullet found its mark straight into the senator’s heart.
And Blair stood by, watching as his life blood flowed surely from his body to the pavement.
Craig suddenly realized that she had stopped speaking. Her eyes were still closed and he kissed them lovingly.
“Blair,” he said softly, and her eyes opened to him. “Teile was a very fine person, and it’s very natural that you still grieve for him. But don’t be afraid of loving again. You are alive, and you have so much to give.”
Blair shuddered slightly. She had brought it all back, but it didn’t seem to hurt so bad, and it didn’t seem at all wrong that she was lying in this man’s arms after talking about Ray.
She turned to him, smiling slightly as she traced a finger along the angle of his cheek. “Thank you for listening,” she murmured. “I don’t think I live in the past, it’s just …”
“Hush.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t apologize to me, I wanted to listen.” He held her close, his breath gentle on her forehead. “I wanted all of you, Blair.”
Time passed as they held together, locked in a contented wonderment. Blai
r thought how strange it was the two men she had loved in her life could be so very different, so very special, so unique.
And then she realized that she was admitting to herself that she loved Craig.
Shifting against him, she brushed his chest with a kiss, then pressed her lips tightly to his shoulder. He moved to hold her again, but she shook her head and pulled back, rising from the ridiculously tiny cot that had become a bed of clouds for them both.
“Where are you going?” he demanded huskily.
“To my tent,” she returned softly, watching his gaze narrow upon her. A mischievous grin curled her lips. “I’m not worried about my reputation, Mr. Taylor, or what anyone might think. I just don’t think I could possibly share something as special as this night has been.”
He wanted to stop her—more than anything in the world he wanted to stop her. He wanted her with him through the night; he wanted to awake with her face beside his.
His muscles constricted, his jaw hardened. Reason held him back. In less than an hour he had to send a communication.
But reason didn’t help him any as he watched her silently dress with her effortless, unconscious grace. And suddenly he was up beside her. “Tonight,” he whispered, fingers tensing into her shoulders, “tonight I’ll let you leave. But there will come a time …”
What was he saying? he groaned inwardly. Their time would be so limited—time when she would want to be his at any rate.
He released her abruptly. “I’m sorry, Blair.” He turned his back on her.
Blair was silent for several seconds, watching the powerful breadth of his back.
“There will come a time,” she whispered. Then with a rustle of air, she was gone.
She wasn’t sleeping when he moved in the night, the wraith cat again, slipping through the jungle.
But she might not have heard a cannon. Her mind was full, her body sated. Distrust was not among her emotions.
She was savoring the feeling of fulfillment, of at long last knowing a complete peace of mind and body.
When she slept she missed his form beside her, but she slept a complete, total, and exhausted rest, a smile curving her lips.
They had both been right. A time was coming when she would stay, stay until he no longer wanted her with him.
Whatever the future brought with her wandering man, she would take whatever he gave and gladly bear the consequences.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY MORNING’S LIGHT BLAIR had forgotten that she had ever mistrusted Craig. The night had worked sheer magic upon her, and she was sure she could face anything that came. Maybe Kate had been right—perhaps she did underestimate her powers and Craig could possibly be the type to settle down in one place with one woman.
But if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. For the time that they had, she intended to selfishly take whatever she could. She would never regret what she was able to have, even if she might never have such an experience again. She was gambling dangerously, having found a man such as Craig. She might never seek out another, knowing she wouldn’t find such a perfect chemistry again. She was willing to gamble—she would never, never look back with regret.
She was anxious to see him, anxious for a few minutes to talk alone, just to share a secret smile, just to tell him with a look how wonderful she was feeling. But circumstances were against her. The compound was a bevy of confusion and activity even as she lifted her tent flap. A cacophony of excited Spanish rose to her ears; her first sight was that of dozens of native strangers milling around in confusion. Catching sight of the harried Dr. Hardy, Blair bolted after him.
“What’s going on?
He stopped his headlong flight and blinked at her. “Oh, Blair—thank God you’re up. These people have come from the north. The tremor wiped out their little village. We’ve got to get oriented here quickly with this many refugees. Get some food going with Dolly, will you? I’ve got to get Taylor. I need the man. We’re going to need some quick makeshift housing.”
Tom kept on talking, but he was already on his way again. With a sigh Blair made her way through the confusion, a practiced, soothing smile on her face while she inwardly groaned. They were in for another set of incredibly rough days. She would be lucky just to catch sight of Craig.
Berating herself for a fool even as she set to work with Dolly, Blair wondered why she had deemed it important to leave Craig last night. She had wanted to hug the experience to herself, she knew, to cherish it and ingrain it deeply in her mind. To decide how to handle her needs and desires and emotions and the real world that existed outside of his arms.
But now that all seemed so silly. She had cost them precious moments that could never be recaptured; the joy of holding tight with tender comfort, of waking together in the light of dawn.
She could only hope that he understood, and pray that things would be well between them.
It was long past nightfall when the activity in the compound died down. The victim now of high anxiety, Blair sought out Craig with her eyes. Just moments ago she had seen him bundling a young matron and child into a blanket so that they might bed down for the night, but now, suddenly, she couldn’t see him.
He couldn’t be far, she told herself …
Fighting an absurd urge to cry, Blair poured herself a cup of coffee and moved to the cooking fire, where the tired crew was gathering. She stood staring into the fire, mesmerized by the flame, thinking how like fire Craig’s eyes could be and wondering desperately if she hadn’t already ruined things with her reticence and fear.
And then she felt him behind her long before his hands actually came to rest upon her shoulders. “Craig …” She turned, and her eyes, wide and unguarded, told him everything that could be said. He kissed her, oblivious to the others, and his smile carried all the warmth and caring she could have desired. “Bad day,” he said ruefully, “and I’m afraid we’re in for some others. Tired?”
Blair nodded, not caring that she was tired.
“I’ll walk you to your tent,” he murmured, his eyes dazzling and his voice husky as he lowered his head to her ear and added, “We’re being doubled up, you know. Kate’s in with you, Juan’s in with me.”
Blair chuckled at his mournful tone. “Are you advising me against any nocturnal excursions?”
“I certainly am,” he said sternly. “I’m fond of old Juan, but if he caught a glimpse of that delightful body I consider my own—hope that isn’t too macho a statement—I think I’d make those dark Latin eyes of his a bit darker!”
Blair chuckled softly as they stopped before her tent. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck, delighting in his height and breadth as she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him, slowly, savoringly. Feeling the heat grow from her action, she stepped back. “Coming from you,” she said huskily, “I don’t mind macho statements.”
He grinned with the arch of a brow. “Good.” He took the initiative then and pulled her back into his arms. “This will only be a few days,” he said, his voice a deep, thrilling velvet. “Just a few days …”
But the few days stretched to a week—one that Blair often considered pure torture. It’s because I know what I’m missing! Blair thought wryly as she stayed awake nights staring at the canvas even though she was bone weary. And yet, even the torture was nice. She felt vaguely as if she were being courted—a bit backward, maybe, but courted nevertheless. Craig walked her to her tent every night and each night they shared a kiss. Each night they both knew they wanted so much more.
Blair wasn’t enduring half the torture that plagued Craig. Slipping out of the tent for his midnight communications now that Juan was in the tent was tricky, and yet not impossible. That was actually the least of his problems. He was behaving madly, carrying on with Blair when he, unlike she, was fully aware that time was of the essence, and that in a matter of days, everything could crash in on their heads.
Yet he couldn’t stay away from her. Couldn’t help but pray that they would have just one more c
hance together before …
Before she hated him. Not knowing what was going on and not able to tell her anything, even about himself, she was surely going to think the worst. He was asking for trouble. He would have been a hell of a lot better off if this had been a simple little baby-sitting stunt for a wayward socialite.
None of it mattered. He was committed to the end. If there was an explosion … then be it. He couldn’t willfully change things. So this was being in love, he thought miserably. What a hell of a damned time for it to happen to me ….
The tight schedule of the new-refugee confusion was just beginning to wind down when the second new recruit the doctor had been promised appeared.
He came in a jeep, like Craig, carrying gifts from the States. His name was Brad Shearer. He was a dark-haired Texan, a smiling country boy close in age to Blair. Instantly likeable. An enthusiastic Dr. Hardy turned him over to Blair to introduce to the others.
Blair found Kate and Craig together at the cook pot. “Kate, Craig—Brad Shearer.”.
“Hey, west Texas!” Kate smiled warmly. “Glad to meet you.” Blair suppressed a smile at the unabashed sincerity of Kate’s comment. But then her smile began to fade with a trace of unease, the first she had felt in quite some time. She was almost sure she had detected a flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes when she introduced him to Craig.
The second was over too quickly. “Nice to have you, Brad,” Craig said easily, extending his hand to the other man, his nonchalant grin in place.
And then Brad was shaking his hand, his greeting cordial, but his eyes turning back to Kate.
The two women had some time at the stream that evening. The majority of the influx of refugees had moved back to the north with supplies, their cuts and bruises patched. Things were once again normal.
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