Blue Knight (4 page)

She smiled. “Crappy memories. You don’t want the details.” She reached for the notebooks and started closing them up, but Duardo caught her wrist, halting her. He tugged her to her feet, then pushed the bench she had been sitting on away with his boot and pulled her between his knees. “Minnie,” he said simply.

“Ah, shit,” she said, with a sigh. “Do you have to know absolutely everything?”

“Of course.”

She screwed up her face. “A girl doesn’t get to keep any secrets?”

“Not when it comes to us, she doesn’t.” His expression was impassive. “Minnie,
mi amor
, you have seen such darkness inside me. Why does this bother you?”

She had to think about it for a moment. “Because I don’t like you seeing me when I’m not perfect.”

He smiled. “I’ve seen you when you’re not perfect. Many times.”

“Not this way.”

He drew her closer, his arms around her, and rested her head against his shoulder. She was enveloped in his scent, which was strongly masculine and so uniquely Duardo’s that her heart skipped a beat. He was hot against her body. “Now I cannot see your face. You cannot see mine. Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice reverberating against her chest.

She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. It helped to hide her face even more that way and she told him of the horrible fight in the kitchen, with the daughter of the former President of Vistaria, who had accused Minnie of killing the man she loved. “That was the day I figured out I was on my own,” Minnie said, her lips brushing Duardo’s neck. “No one in the house thought you were alive. No one was going to help me, not when I’d just beaten up the daughter of their President.”

“You really beat her up?” Duardo asked. His hands came up to hold her hips, his thumbs smoothing over the cotton of her skirt. She could feel the heat of his fingers through the fabric.

“She had a black eye, a bloody nose and a split lip. She split my lip, too, so it wasn’t a complete walkover.”

“I’ve seen Carmen Escobedo before. She’s nearly twelve inches taller than you. Even if she’s still as thin as a model, she’d outweigh you with all that height.”

Minnie stepped back from Duardo and pushed at his shoulder. “Typical guy. I pour out my heart and all you can focus on is the fight statistics. Yeah, I won the round. So what?”

But Duardo was smiling, his eyes dancing. “You really think this makes you look bad?”

“Most people take exception to someone beating up the daughter of their beloved President. Yeah.”

“I’ve been told by others what Carmen said to you that made you pick the fight,” Duardo said, his smile fading. “You won more than a few fans that day. Did you not realize this?”

She could feel her jaw descending and caught it up. “No,” she said flatly. “I try not to think of that time much at all. I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. Mostly, what I feel when I think of that time is shame.”

“Because you were so obsessed with finding me,” Duardo said softly. His gaze was direct, not letting her avoid the truth.

She nodded, appalled to feel the hot prick of tears in her eyes. “I went a little crazy,” she whispered, trying to blink away the tears. But instead they fell, scalding her cheeks.

Duardo wiped them away with his thumb. Then he drew her back into his arms and kissed her. His mouth was hot and hard on hers. Hungry. His hands framed her face, the long fingers fanning out to caress her cheeks, the sides of her throat. His tongue pressed inside her mouth, pushing against hers and stroking her lips.

Minnie clutched at his jacket, her body responding as it always did, with almost instant hot fiery need that flared at his first touch. She pressed herself up against him, a moan escaping her. She was eager for more. From the beginning, Duardo had made her feel more like a woman than any other man she had ever met. From the first time they had met he had exuded a knowing confidence that had shattered her own ideas about how to control and manipulate men and left her at the mercy of the blazing feelings he stirred in her.

Her helplessness when she was near him, the weakness that came over her when he looked at her, had frightened her at first. No man had ever made her feel that way before. Later, her need to have him touch her had become like a drug that she must have, or go crazy with need. Duardo knew exactly how to touch her. The most delicate strokes, the hard thrusts, the more demanding caresses.

His hands slid down her throat, leaving lines of white fire behind. Minnie sighed into Duardo’s mouth as his fingers hooked under the straps of the cotton camisole she wore. She loved being undressed by him. Her whole body tingled at the prospect of being naked before him, vulnerable and his to do with as he wished. Her nipples came erect, thrusting against the cotton of the camisole.

Duardo pulled the straps over her shoulders and lowered the camisole, exposing her breasts, as his mouth moved over the contour of her chin. His lips nibbled their way along her throat, down to her chest. Minnie slid her hands into Duardo’s hair, feeling the short strands tickle the sides of her fingers and closed her eyes. She could not guide him, he would not let her. But he would ensure her pleasure was maximized, nevertheless.

His hot tongue swiped over her upper breasts and she knew he was teasing her now. She began to tremble, anticipating the touch of his lips upon her aching nipples. Her clit throbbed at the idea and her breath grew short.

“
Buena tarde
, colonel,” came the soft greeting.

Minnie opened her eyes as Duardo snapped upright, looking around, pulling her camisole up with a quick jerk.

The soldier was already moving on, his back to them, a rifle slung over his shoulder.

Duardo hung his head for a moment. “Grounds security,” he said with sigh. “My apologies,
mi amor
.”

She gave him a wicked smile. “You can make it up to me later.”

He studied her. “What did I do to deserve you, Minerva Benning?”

“Stupid question.” Her voice was thick with arousal. “You’re a brilliant soldier, you’re sexy, handsome and you keep saving my life. I’d be a selfish pig not to love you. You’re better off asking why I get to keep you. I’m not sure why you’re still in my life, but every morning I wake up and find you’re still in my bed, I figure it’s one more day I can add to my tally of the best days of my life.”

Duardo cupped her cheek. “You never seem to sound poetic, but you say the most profound things, Minnie. They spear me in the gut.” He touched her lips with his own, softly. “And my heart,” he added.

“Thanks,” she said. “I think. But why do you suddenly sound all fatalistic and gloomy, hmm?”

He lifted a brow. “I do not!”

She grinned. “Bullshit. I don’t sound poetic, but everything you say comes out sounding like Yeats—full of metaphors and similes. So why do you feel like you don’t deserve me? What happened today?”

Duardo laughed, showing his white, even teeth. He picked her up and settled on the table properly, with her on his lap. “I should know better than to carry even a bad mood into the same room as you. You’re far too intuitive.”

She shook him, her hands on the lapels of the jacket. “So give.”

He hesitated. “Some of it I can’t tell you. You understand why, don’t you?”

“Security,” she said. “Sure. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get offended. Tell me what you can.”

He sat silent for long seconds—so many of them that Minnie thought he wasn’t going to answer. She pulled back to look into his eyes.

“I…this is difficult,” he confessed. “Like you, I cannot confess to a weakness easily.” He grimaced. “I would much rather be the man you are glad to find in your bed each morning.”

“Despite me having seen the Zalaya in you?” she reminded him.

His eyes closed. “
Ella me hiere profundamente
,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wound you at all.”

He shook his head and opened his eyes. “No, you simply spoke the truth.” He sighed. “It has been a long day. The hole that Blanco has left…. I do not think it can be filled by Flores alone, yet there are no other generals left. Nick has already seen this, I think, which is why he has declared himself President pro tem, until the army can sort itself out. I did not understand fully why he would do that, until I looked at it from his perspective today.” Duardo rested his head against Minnie’s. “The army, what army we have, is a mess. There’s very little real leadership and now it appears that Vistaria will actually need some sort of de facto, temporary navy of sorts, too. How we’re supposed to equip and supply a whole new military wing when we can barely keep an army supplied is a whole new nightmare that we have to address. And I think, Minnie, I really think that Flores does not see this. He does not anticipate it.” He closed his eyes again. “I have no idea how to deal with it,” he whispered. “Even as a colonel, I am essentially powerless. The chain of command
must
be followed, or we become a leaderless rabble.”

Minnie plucked at the rows of ribbons on his jacket. “You have to find a way,” she said softly.

He laughed hollowly. “I am not
el leopardo rojo
, Minnie. I cannot flout structure and regulations as Nick does.”

“You have to,” Minnie insisted. She tugged on his lapels to ensure she had his attention. When his gaze met hers again, she drew a breath for courage. “You have to,” she repeated. “Because I’m pregnant.”

There was a flash of pure delight in his eyes. His kiss took her breath away, then he lifted his lips away from hers and rained kisses all over her face. He held her to him, his arms hard around her. His heart was thundering against her chest. “I thought I was happy before,” he said in Spanish. “But this….” He did not finish the sentence. Instead he held her away from him and brushed her hair from her face. “Now there are no excuses left, Minnie. We must get married as soon as possible.”

She bit her lip. “No protests about this being a bad time to have a family? To rear children?”

He shook his head. “It’s an
impossible
time to have a child. But we are having one, anyway.” He laughed.

Minnie stared at him. “Your mood. It’s gone.”

Duardo nodded. “Yes, by god!” He kissed her.

“So are you going to tell me how we’re supposed to take care of a family in all this?”

“We’ll figure it out. That’s what you always say, right?”

Minnie beat her fist softly against his shoulder. “No, really.”

He caught her fist in his hand. “Yes, really,” he said, abruptly sobering. “I know what I have to do now.” He turned her hand over and kissed the palm. “I will take care of this—of you—by winning back Vistaria. That’s the only way this, all this, will be over.”

Minnie found herself smiling. “Just like that? You’ll win back a country for me?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes. For you,
mi amor
.”

It was like being shot full of champagne, or adrenaline. Minnie could feel the rush, the energy. She slid off his lap. “Okay then.” She straightened up his jacket. “You win back Vistaria and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“The rest?”

“Everything.” She picked up his hand. “You really want to marry me, Duardo?”

“The world may be going crazy around us,
mi amor
, but that is one thing that has not changed in my heart or my mind since the night we sat in the palace grounds and waited for Calli.”

Minnie felt her heart hiccup. “Since then?” she whispered.

Duardo grinned. “Since then,” he said simply.

She tried to smile back, but failed. “All right then,” she said, not quite as briskly as she would have liked. “You take care of stealing back an entire country and I’ll take care of the wedding and anything else that comes along. Does that seem reasonable to you?”

He considered. “Only if you’ve sure, Minnie. Even pregnant as you are, there are other options. You could go home to America. Your family would take care of you and you—”

“What are you saying?” she asked, breathless with cold shock.

“I’m giving you a graceful exit if you want one.” He picked up her hand. “I’m poor material as a husband—I can’t give you a roof over your head, or even a country to live in and the next few months are going to be…what’s that thing you say? Hell on wheels? It’s a bad bargain, Minnie. You’d be better off with your family, especially now.”

“You’re going to knock me up, then send me home?” she breathed.

“No, you misunderstand—”

“I understand fine,” she said and shook her head. “You and your fine damn Vistarian honor. Now we’re talking about weddings you’re suddenly going macho on me and worrying about the life you’ll give me.” She linked her hands around his neck. “Just marry me, Duardo. You’re all I’m asking for. You in my bed, your arms around me. If that’s all I get, I’ll still consider myself the luckiest woman alive.” She reached over and picked up the notebooks. “Besides, what other girl can say she gets to help run a country for a living?”

* * * * *

The Royal White Sands Hotel had once held a reputation for some of the finest dining in North America. Kings and queens had stayed there. Hemingway had a favorite corner suite and a favorite table in the bar. Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier had often slipped into the harbor below on a sloop and hurried up the wide, white stone steps in sunglasses and large hats and spent a long weekend tucked away in the honeymoon suite.

But that was before revolution had torn Vistaria apart. Before a twenty-foot-high, chain-link fence with barbed wire coils atop had been installed right around the White Sands, tearing up the beautiful grounds, the generous parking area and the old banyan trees that had stood there for over a hundred years. Forty-foot high, cast-iron poles had replaced the trees and the elegance. Now the grounds surrounding the White Sands were awash in floodlights all night and guards carrying submachine guns patrolled the fenced area day and night.

The quality of the catering at the Royal White Sands Hotel had diminished somewhat of late.

Olivia looked at the hash browns and scrambled eggs in the tray warmers and sighed. Breakfast was always this same Westernized disaster, with nothing fresh on offer. The coffee defied description. The celebrated chefs and talented kitchen staff had escaped off-island at the first sign of revolution. Now the hotel was using the most basic ingredients and she thought she had more cooking experience than whoever was turning out this mess day after day. But nobody dared say anything to the staff, not while there were half a dozen unshaved, sullen-looking
insurrectos
standing around the dining room with their submachine guns hanging from their shoulders, or held in their hands, while they watched their captured pets eat.