A Wedding Story (21 page)

He looked wonderful.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked.

“A little.”

“Oh, Lord.” She closed her eyes.

“It was worth every second.” His hand moved from her chin to her cheek, his thumb rubbing along her jaw. Only moments ago, that hand, those fingers…she thought she could smell herself on him and her knees went soft.

“I have to—”

“Kate.” There was no avoiding him. “You look wonderful. Here”—he brushed the side of her neck—“a scrape from my beard. And here”—he touched the snarl of her hair—“all tangled up because you tossed your head back and forth at your peak. Here”—she shivered as he drew a slow line down her neck, down her upper chest, until her bodice stopped him—“disordered, a little rumpled, because you abandoned yourself to me.” His voice went low, heated, the words pouring over her like warmed honey.

“But you didn’t even…” She didn’t have the vocabulary for this. What made her think she could smoothly slide into an affair, sophisticated, uncomplicated? This was hopelessly messy, in more ways than one.

“How do you know?”

“What?” Her head snapped up. While she wasn’t exactly a professional, she would have sworn she wouldn’t have missed something quite that…obvious.

He chuckled. “All right, I didn’t.” He drew his hand down farther, smoothing her blouse over her breast, his hand dark and obvious and male against her curves, and she forgot how to breathe. “I have every faith you’ll make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” she managed.

“It’s only fair,” he said solemnly.

The man looked extremely pleased with himself. Her anxiety eased a notch. “Did you do this on purpose?”

“Darlin’, that doesn’t happen by accident.”

“No, no.” Her cheeks heated, but she plunged on, determined to be as comfortable with this discussion as he. “You chose not to…so I would owe you. So I would have to…” Despite her good intentions, she couldn’t seem to bring it off. Blasé sophistication was going to require a bit of practice.

“You mean, did I purposely, er, deny myself so that you could not go skittering off this morning and pretend it never happened? So that you would feel a certain obligation to even the score, thus ensuring myself another night in the very near future?”

It sounded absurd. And yet…“Yes.”

“Would I do that to you?”

It didn’t sit well, the idea that he could predict her behavior so well that he might plan it out that way, all the while she could stare into his eyes right now and not discern whether he told the truth.

“Kate.” He lowered his head, mouth drawing temptingly near. And she knew that as soon as he kissed her, her good intentions would evaporate and he’d have her back in that boat in an instant, no time to prepare herself, no time to plan.

She ducked from his embrace and walked over to the railing, still marveling that he’d actually taken her in that boat without her uttering a word of protest. It was so unlike her.

The boat appeared larger from the outside than it had seemed from within. The cover was flipped back, revealing the wooden planks of the bottom, and…

“Jim?” Kate leaned over, ripping at the remaining ties that held the canvas in place, peeling it back. The smudges she’d seen on the fabric became lines, thick and curving, curling into loosely recognizable shapes. “What do you think?”

He leaned over her shoulder, stretching to release the farthest corner. “I think there’s no reason not to spend the rest of this cruise in bed.”

J
im had been all in favor of, after they made a quick but careful copy of the map, adjourning to Kate’s cabin and seeing just how much he could play on her sympathy and guilt. Once they’d sneaked back down to her room, however, she’d squeezed in the door, told him she needed a few moments to repair and she’d meet him in the Palm Room for breakfast, and shoved him on his way before he’d framed a protest.

So Jim took a quick dunk in the swimming pool, threw on a fresh shirt, and went to the Palm to wait.

It was still early enough that the room was empty, awash in pale light through the leaded skylight overhead. Lush palm trees in golden pots rose nearly to the roof, dozens of small tables arranged beneath. Glowing pink silk draped the walls, parting here and there to reveal murals of tropical gardens framed in gilded molding, as if one were looking out the windows of a grand villa. Creamy, gold-veined marble gleamed on the floor.

Jim found a table in the far corner, dropped into one chair, propped his feet in another, and settled back to wait. Every bone in his body protested the abuse of the night before, his temples pounded from the lack of sleep, and he’d never felt better in his life.

Kate was going to be his lover. They’d stumbled over—under—the next clue. With any luck he wasn’t going to have to set foot out of that cabin for at least four more days. It wouldn’t be enough to make up for weeks of frustration—not to mention years—but it was pretty damn good.

Maybe there’d even be a storm. Slow them down enough to keep them from docking for another day, which he fully intended to put to excellent use.

He linked his hands comfortably over his belly. Breakfast wouldn’t hurt, he thought. Beyond that—

“You’re up early.”

Damn.
Should have known he couldn’t be
that
lucky.

Hobson stood pointedly beside the chair Jim had appropriated as a footstool. When Jim merely raised one brow, Hobson grabbed another chair from a nearby table, dragged it over, and plopped down.

“So are you,” Jim said.

“Oh, you know. The early bird, and all that.” He leaned back. “Christ, man, but you don’t look too well.”

“Thank you very much. And how very kind of you to offer your opinion.”

“Any time.” Jim started planning his escape. But if he missed Kate on his way out, she’d be stuck here with Charlie. “It’s only natural that you are a bit worse for the wear, of course. It’s a demanding competition.”

“Oh yes, terribly taxing. Right up there with climbing Kilimanjaro.”

“Well, that was some years ago, wasn’t it?” Hobson smiled, that oily, calculated little smile that should have warned anyone who witnessed it to beware. “Perhaps it’s good that you’re retiring.”

As if the little weasel was one day younger than Jim. “Who said I’m retiring?”

“But of course I—” His expression was sympathetic but his eyes gleamed. “I just assumed. Everyone did. The guilt you must live with after that poor Mr. Wheeler’s death. Not to mention the difficulty of funding another expedition after that one went so horribly wrong, and of course it has been nearly a year since you…”

“Mr. Hobson!” Kate marched across the floor, arms swinging. “How dare you?”

“Ma’am. How dare I what?”

“Imply that Lord Bennett was in any way responsible for that terrible tragedy. Why, I can assure you—”

The reporter snapped to attention. “Excuse me, ma’am, were you there? I assumed that—”

“I was not.”

“Well, then, with all due respect, you’re not the one who can set the record straight, are you? And, interestingly, the other members of the expedition are impossible to contact or completely unwilling to discuss what really happened,” he said mildly. “Of course, it’s something I run up against frequently in my business. There are all sorts of things that keep witnesses from telling their side of the story. Although I’m certain—”

“Mr. Hobson,” Kate interrupted, “are you in such dire need of a story that you are
still
flogging such old news?” The men stood as she reached them, and Kate glared at Hobson with such heat that he took a step back, nearly tripping over his chair.

“I’m simply doing my job, Miss Riley.”

“Really? I thought that perhaps you had decided upon a vacation, considering that some unnamed reporter has taken over the front page of the
Sentinel
?” She looked excellent in high dudgeon, Jim noted, her color vivid, eyes bright. Hobson looked as if he was torn between suffering insult and throwing himself at her feet. “There are back copies in the reading room, did you know that? I read every word. Whoever he is, he certainly can write, can’t he?”

“Anyone can get lucky once,” he said darkly. “Producing good copy again and again is the mark of a true reporter.”

“Then I’m certain you have much to write,” she said. “So if you’d excuse us, Mr. Hobson, I’d like to speak to Lord Bennett privately. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes.” He inclined his head formally. “I rather think I do.”

As soon as Hobson made his way across the polished floor and out the double doors, Kate turned to find Jim studying her, an odd half-smile on his face.

“Are you always like that?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a lioness whose cubs are threatened. Is that how you were with your sisters?”

Her mouth twisted ruefully. “I suppose I am. A habit of long enough standing that’s difficult to break.”

“You said your sisters were married.”

“They are.”

“Really?” He grinned. “I’m surprised a man ever got within twenty feet of them.”

“They’re sneaky.” She sighed. “And I must be losing my touch. A month ago, a few soft words, a smile, and Hobson would have gone on his way, scurrying to happily do what I wanted without ever knowing what hit him.”

“Maybe you’re not losing your touch. Maybe you just lost your patience.”

“True. The man does have that effect on me.”

“I don’t believe you’re alone in that.” He cupped her cheek, tracing the line of her lips with his thumb, and her body came alive. He had the right to touch her like that, she reminded herself; she’d given him that. There was no longer any reason to resist, no reason not to sink right into it and enjoy. And oh, enjoy it she did. “While I do appreciate the thought, Kate, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Don’t you?” She tilted her head into his hand. “Don’t we all, sometimes?”

And who’d protected her? Jim wondered. He doubted the Doc had ever bothered.

“People have been asking questions about Matt’s death from the day I returned,” he said. “It’d take more than Hobson poking around to make me spill it.”

“He won’t give up,” she warned him. “He thinks there’s a story there.”

“There is. It’s just not what he thinks it is.”

“Really? What—” She stopped, pursing her lips together. “Sorry.”

“You could make me spill it,” he said, stepping closer, sliding one arm around her waist.

“I could?” It was so easy to slip into his arms. As if they’d been together every day of the past twelve years. Maybe it was simply that he’d been present in her life for that long. Not physically, of course, but he’d been there just the same.

“Care to try?” he asked, his voice roughly suggestive.

“Really?” The thought was terribly tempting, for more reasons than one. “It’s none of my business.”

“
I’m
none of your business?”

On the surface, it was all light, teasing, seductive. But there was an undercurrent of seriousness beneath, as though they both were probing, testing to find out just where they fit into each other’s lives. “Are you?” she asked carefully.

Their gazes caught and held. His eyes were so intense, golden-brown, like the eyes of the lion she’d once seen in a zoo. Kate would have given a lot to know what churned behind them. But she didn’t want to pry it out of him by seduction or trickery. Whatever he chose to share with her, she wanted it to be given freely. There were limits to their relationship. She’d understood that from the first. He was no more capable of settling down into comfortable, urban domesticity than she was of tramping around the world after him.

But now, when she looked back on it a decade down the road, she wanted to know that what they’d had, whatever they’d had, at least this time it was honest and true.

“I met Matt in Brazil only a few months after Doc had been called home. Fished him out of a river, though he always claimed that he’d had the upper hand wrestling that crocodile and I’d only interfered,” Jim said with warm nostalgia. “I was on my way to Manaus. He’d nothing but a yen for adventure and a lot of enthusiasm. Doc had done me a favor once by taking me on. It seemed right to do the same for him.”

He gazed blindly over her head. Looking into the past, Kate figured, back to a time when the two of them were young and daring and had the world at their feet. “What was he like?”

Jim smiled. “He was fun. It seems like such a simple thing to say, but when you’re stuck together for months at a time, sometimes in quite uncomfortable circumstances,
fun
is a very valuable quality.”

“I can imagine.”

“I was…I was a very serious man then. Matt never took anything too seriously. Impulsive as hell. Thought risks were there for the taking and life was to be lived, not worried over.”

Kate leaned back until the loop of his arm pressed against the back of her waist, keeping her from going any farther. She would have liked to have seen his expression, watched emotion chase through his eyes, flicker at his mouth. But he was too tall, too near; she could read only patchwork impressions, the slide of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard, the tensing of his jaw before he spoke again.

“He was like that about everything. He married May two weeks after he met her, had her pregnant before the month was up, and promptly left for the Congo. Got back home, so he said, four hours before she went into labor.”

“His wife didn’t mind?” Kate couldn’t credit it. She tried to picture herself newly married to Jim—oh, that part was far too easy—and waving him good-bye as he headed out for someplace exotic and dangerous.

She would have chained him to the bedpost before she let him set one foot out of the door.

“Oh, I imagine she minded. But what could she say? Matt had never promised her to be any other than he was. I suppose she thought Matt, some of the time, was better than Matt not at all. She knew what she was getting into.”

Pain and sympathy twinged in her chest. “It’s always good to know what you’re getting into.” Accepting it…that suddenly seemed much, much harder.

“They had ten years like that, though I don’t know that they actually lived together but two of them. Two little ones. And he never stopped jumping in head first without looking. Usually jabbing at me about thinking too much the whole way.” His arm tightened, drawing her up against his chest. He put one hand behind her head and held her there. His heart thumped beneath her ear, sure and solid.

He squeezed her closer, driving the breath from her lungs, as if he needed something to hang on to. So be it. Who needed to breathe?

“Damn it, I told him that stretch of the ice field didn’t look safe. There could have been pockets anywhere. We were going to move slowly, not take any chances. He just couldn’t wait to prove me wrong.”

His voice shook. So slight, she doubted anyone but she would have noticed it.

“Jim? Why keep it a secret?”

He rubbed his chin across the crown of her head. “What good would it do? To have his family know that he’d not stopped for one minute to think of them and what would happen to them if he wasn’t careful?”

And if the world believed Jim at fault, so be it, Kate thought. Oh, it would be so much easier if she didn’t know he had this in him. It tugged at her emotions, making things far more complicated than she’d planned on. She knew the confines of this affair, and woe to her heart if it tried to ignore the boundaries.

“Jim?”

“Hmm?”

“Your money, the expedition funding, the book profits…you gave it to his family, didn’t you?”

The time it took for him to answer told her more than he did. “We were partners. He’d earned it.”

She tightened her arms around him.

“Don’t make too much of it,” he warned her. “I should have tried harder to stop him. I
knew
what he was like, and I let it happen anyway. It was stupid of me.”

She turned her head so that she could press her open mouth against him, the abrasion of his shirt’s fabric against her lips, the heat of him beneath, the thump of his heart vibrating against her mouth.

“There were
children,
Kate.”

“Hmm.” She rubbed her nose against him, breathing deeply, and then rose to her toes to taste his neck. He inhaled sharply.

“Kate.”

She loved the way he said her name, as if she’d driven it out of him. As if he was so filled up with
her
he couldn’t hold it in. “Yes?” she murmured against his skin.

“Let’s—” He grabbed her by the upper arms and thrust her away from him.

“What—” He pressed one finger to her mouth, shushing her, while he narrowed his eyes, staring over her shoulder.

She twisted but saw nothing except the trompe l’oeil windows and the lush folds of satin. And then he shoved her aside and pounced, yanking aside one of the drapes and dragging out a small figure swathed in white.

The Amir’s son struggled against Jim’s hold. His robes tangled around him, muting his efforts, but he twisted and turned, his booted foot shooting out, aiming for Jim’s shins. Finally Jim simply lifted him up and dropped him into the nearest chair.

The boy kicked at the shroud of his robes, arms flapping, and made a move as if he meant to spring.

“I wouldn’t,” Jim advised him. “I’m bigger than you, and I’m faster than you, and even if by some miracle you managed to get past me, I’d find you. So if you’re not prepared to bail overboard to get away from me, don’t even bother.”