A Kiss of Adventure (7 page)

Tillie heaved her pole out of the water and swung it over her head to block the attack. The shock of the broadsword smacking into the pole reverberated down her arms. The wood broke in two and hurtled through the air as she fell backward to the floor of the boat and breath whooshed from her lungs.

Graeme dropped the stone anchor beside her, and the boat swung free. Using the broken pole, he maneuvered it toward midriver. Caught by the current, the dugout drifted away from the
amenoukal
’s floundering dromedary.

“Hey!” Graeme laughed out loud. “We did it!” He reached down, grabbed her around the shoulders, and pulled her toward him, planting a kiss on her cheek. “We did it!”

“Did we?” She grabbed the side of the boat, as stunned by his kiss as by their escape. “Are you sure?”

“Take a look.”

The
amenoukal
, a demonic vision brandishing a broadsword, faded from view in the river mist. She let out a breath. “We got away.”

“Darn right we did.”

“Thank God.” Relief coursed through her. She hugged her knees to her chest and buried her head, fighting unexpected tears.

“Mat—you all right?”

Unable to speak, she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the boat wobble as he moved to crouch in front of her. He unfolded her arms and lifted her chin.

“What’s the matter?”

She shook her head. “I was so scared. I’m still scared.”

“Come here.” He ran his hands up her arms, pulling her closer to him. “You were a champ. You saved my life back there, you know.”

Dismayed at the unexpected flood of warmth she felt for a man she shouldn’t trust, she shrugged away. “He would have killed you! It’s not worth it. Whatever the treasure is, it’s not worth a human life.”

“Nobody got hurt.”

“Not this time.” She met his eyes. “Look, we both know he’s not going to give up. We’re in this leaky little boat. A boat we stole—”

“We’ll get it back to the fishermen.”

“Maybe so. But how far can we go? The river may be deep enough for a boat right here, but Arthur told me it’s been so dry there are places you can just about wade across the Niger. And we’re moving at a snail’s pace. He’s going to catch up, Graeme, and I’m not about to sit by and watch him behead you. It’s all a misunderstanding, anyway. The treasure, the tree-planting woman, all of it. Once I explain that I don’t know anything about any treasure—”

“Explain? Was that a man you can explain things to?” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Come on, Mat, cheer up. We won this round.”

She let her focus drift to the shore. Every time she looked at Graeme, she saw that sword swinging toward his neck. Her stomach turned over. She didn’t want him to die. Not on her account. Not on any account. She glanced at him again.

“Mat,” he said, taking her hand between both of his. “Tillie . . . there’s nothing wrong with feeling scared when the situation fits. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. You’ve got a strength, something inside you. It’s something I’ve never seen. Back on the road yesterday you told me you didn’t believe God ever abandons us. So this morning in the brush and on the river . . . did he?”

“No. His love never leaves us.” Pulling her hand away from his, she stared out at the swirling brown river. “But that doesn’t mean we live under some lucky charm, some guarantee of safety or protection. We can be victimized by circumstances like illness or accidents . . . or by human evil. It’s just that during those times we know he’s there, loving us, helping us endure. All our lives, in whatever we face, he loves us and stays with us.”

Graeme studied her face for more than a minute, his eyes searching hers as if he could read answers in them. “If you honestly believe the God of the entire universe is with you through every problem, and he’s always there to love you no matter what, that’s something. That’s really something.”

“I’m sure of it.” She managed a smile. “And maybe because of it, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Aw, I thought your worries had something to do with the prospect of never seeing my handsome face again.” He sat back and regarded her with a lazy grin. “Now I find out you just want to make sure I don’t die before you can save my sinful soul. Baptize me in the waters of the Jordan. Pluck me from the fires of hell. Rescue me from eternal damnation. Wash my transgressions in the crystal—”

“Enough!” Tillie had to smile. “In the first place,
I
can’t save your sinful soul. That’s between you and Christ. In the second place, I’m beginning to like you better than I should. And third, if you’ve never felt the peace—”

“Whoa, let’s go back to the second place.”

She stared at him, nonplussed. Why had she let
that
come out? “Let’s don’t.”

“Let’s do.” His voice was quiet as he spoke. “Look, Tillie, the truth is, I didn’t plan on you any more than you planned on me. I didn’t count on . . .” He paused, searching for words. “I didn’t expect to . . . it’s just that I’m a basic kind of guy, you know? Happy, sad, mad—that’s about the range of my emotional makeup. I like to eat, sleep, take a hot shower when I can get one. I figure you live and then you die, and that’s about it. But while I’m here, I like to do things that make me feel good.” He bent and brushed a kiss on her lips. “Like kiss a beautiful woman.”

As he drew back, she covered her mouth with her fingers. His kiss, even though it had been feather light, burned in a way Arthur’s never had. Confused, she stared into his eyes as if he could explain why. He shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have wanted him to. But he had, and she had. And now her heart hammered in her ears, and her lungs couldn’t seem to take in enough air.

“Looks like we made off with a mess of fish,” he said, turning away. “No wonder those two fellows were so mad. We stole their boat
and
their dinner.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, barely hearing him. She had wanted him to kiss her. She couldn’t deny it. She looked down into the boat. The minute Graeme had grabbed her off the street, she had felt them moving toward this moment. Now it was done, and she had betrayed the good, Christian man who loved her.

“It’s really more a dugout than a boat,” he said. “No seats.”

She stared blankly at the rough fishing net, a length of damp rope, and the fish. A dozen or more perch lay squirming wide-eyed in a waterproof basket filled with water.

She couldn’t let it happen again. She wouldn’t. Graeme was not the right kind of man for her, no matter how attractive she found him. Come to think of it, maybe that was why she found him so attractive. Because he was dangerous, risky, all wrong.

You don’t even know who he really is,
she chastised her heart.
You’ve seen so many sides of him you don’t know which is the real Graeme McLeod.

What about his quest for the document and the treasure? Was he a treasure seeker like the Tuareg? Or had she guessed right about him being part of the rare-book smuggling ring? If not that, then probably some other illegal venture.

Whatever he was, Graeme was not for her. She couldn’t fall victim to his rugged looks and his air of adventure when she knew his heart wasn’t right.

Be strong in the Lord,
she told herself.
Be of good courage.

“Did you notice that village we passed a few minutes ago?” he was saying. “I bet those fishermen live there. We’ll send their boat back to them once we hit Segou.”

Tillie had not seen the village. In fact, she had done nothing but think of the escape. And then the kiss. Biting her lip, she hugged herself against the chill morning air. She had to get past it and move on toward her goal of handing her problems with the Tuareg to the authorities. Once she could get away from Graeme, the turbulent feelings he aroused inside her would ebb. Everything would be the same again. Normal. Comfortable. Predictable.

Graeme was handling the oar, expertly steering them midcur rent around floating driftwood and an occasional jutting boulder. She watched him, telling herself to recognize the truth. He was just an ordinary man; his kiss had been nothing more than a gut response to their escape; her inner turmoil was merely lack of sleep and a good meal.

“You’ve been on a boat before,” she said, making conversation.

“Haven’t you?”

“Sure. But you’re good at rowing. Last time I tried it, I went in circles.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. “I guess in my line of work I’ve learned to run just about anything that moves. Boats. Motorcycles. Hot-air balloons. I ran a train once. Kabul, Afghanistan. Great place.”

“Can you fly a plane?”

“Never actually done it, but I’ve watched the procedures often enough. I reckon I could.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “A plane is pretty complicated.”

He shrugged. “You do what you have to do. I bet you never thought you’d be able to knock away a broadsword in full swing.”

She fell silent. “They’ll be following us down the river, won’t they?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the next town on the river?”

“Segou.”

“There’ll be a phone there. Police.” She met his eyes. “I’m going to the authorities, Graeme. I want this thing over.”

He leaned back in the boat and stretched out his legs. Regarding her with a look she couldn’t fail to read, he laid down the oar and let the current take them.

“Funny you should feel that way,” he said. “I’m just starting to enjoy myself.”

The sun scorched the little boat from midmorning on. Graeme forced himself to concentrate on the pied king-fishers soaring overhead and the occasional hippopotamus that surfaced to stare at them. Hunger gnawed at his stomach— growing almost unbearable as night began to fall. Mosquitoes and flies buzzed and stung them.

He knew Tillie had to be miserable, her bare arms exposed to the mosquitoes and her skin slowly flushing from pink to dusky rose. They had eaten the last of the bananas the night before, and the little river water they let themselves drink was muddy and foul.

She didn’t utter a word of complaint. Turning into herself, she fell completely silent. She bailed water. Rowed. Poled over sandbars. Slapped at mosquitoes.

Graeme found he didn’t have much to say either. Not only were the hunger, insects, and heat making him miserable, concern about their pursuers nagged at him. Often, when the boat swung around a bend in the river, he caught a glimpse of the Tuareg caravan keeping pace overland with the sluggish river. The Niger was so wide Graeme knew they were relatively safe. But they couldn’t go on much longer before they would be forced to dock, and there were too many places where the water was shallow enough to let even a sand-loving camel across.

When the sun dipped behind the treetops, Graeme pulled in the oar. “Tillie, we’ve got to stop.”

She lifted her head, her blue eyes bright in the waning sunlight. “I want to go on.”

He searched her face, wishing he could read her better. Was she afraid—as she ought to be—or was she so focused on her goal of getting help in Segou that she wanted to continue? Or could it be that what made this righteous, upright young woman so determined to continue was the prospect of being alone with him one more night?

His eyes scanned her face, and another possibility presented itself. Maybe she wanted to go on because the quest intrigued and compelled her—as though she were becoming a partner with him in adventure.

Her face radiated some of the same burning intensity he had felt within himself so often. Go. Grab life by the tail. Hang on. Maybe she
did
want the challenge.

Or maybe you’re just imagining things,
he told himself cynically,
because you want to believe you’ve found someone with a similar urge to court danger, a similar drive to see what’s waiting around the next corner.

“We don’t have a choice,” he said. “We’ve got to stop. If we get hung up on a sandbar in the dark, the Tuareg will take us like candy from a jar.”

“They’ll take us no matter where we stop. The caravan is on the bank just over there. I’ve seen them following us.”

“I know. Look, we’ll wait until it’s so dark we’re sure they can’t see us. Then we’ll find a bushy place on the other bank to land. We can eat a bite and get some sleep.”

“A nap before the moon comes up,” she clarified. “Then we’ll take off again. All right?”

“You’re the tree-planting woman. Whatever you want.”

She gave him a slight frown before taking up the oar. When darkness truly had set in, she paddled the boat to the shore opposite the Tuareg, and Graeme tied it up in a stand of thorny brake and tall reeds. Grabbing his knapsack and the basket of fish, he climbed out of the rocking boat.

“Where are you going?” Tillie whispered.

“Don’t you want some dinner?”

“They’ll see us if we light a fire.”

“Too bad. I’m hungry.”

He could hear her splashing after him, gasping as the sharp reeds jabbed at her already tender legs. If he could have picked her up and carried her, he would have. But he was sure she wouldn’t let him. He’d gone too far already with the kiss.

Finding a dry spot, he stopped and flattened some reeds with his boot. “You want to watch out for crocs and hippos around here.” He dropped his knapsack on the ground. “Hippos come ashore to feed at night, you know. Crocodiles sleep on the bank.”