Captive of Fate (5 page)

Her mouth felt as if it were full of cotton balls, and she eagerly reached for the canteen, putting it to her lips and swallowing a huge gulp. With a cry, she spit it out. “This is horrible,” she wailed.

He gave her an impatient look. “Halizone has been put in it for your protection. If those tablets weren’t dropped in there, you’d probably get dysentery. Now take a swallow and let’s get going. And don’t waste any more of my water.”

She grudgingly took a small sip, wrinkling her nose in utter distaste over the foul-tasting water. Matt, however, seemed hardly to notice the taste when he took a drink of it himself. Turning, he began to walk, only this time at an obviously slower pace for her benefit. Alanna cast a mournful look down at her pants. They were muddied up to her knees. Her feet were cold, and her toes felt numb as she forced herself to keep pace beside him. The jungle looked forbidding and threatening right now, and she felt anything but brave. In a way, she was thankful for his presence, even if it was an irritating one.

“What school did you graduate from?” he asked conversationally.

Alanna peered up at him, taken off guard by his friendly tone. For a moment she considered ignoring him but decided it was an unwise move. She might need to drink more water, and she wouldn’t put it past him to refuse her if he felt so inclined. “Radcliffe.”

“Did you major in political science?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“A logical guess.”

“I suppose I look like all those other politicos up there on the Hill. We all have black, beady, weasel eyes and are out to lie to the public and grovel for our power positions,” she muttered.

He laughed. It was a full, resonant laugh that reverberated within the small cleared area of the jungle, and Alanna found herself warming to it.

“Hardly, lady. You’re a sight for sore eyes under any circumstances, believe me. No, your problem is that you try to replace your intuition with rationalization and end up making the wrong decision. Such as this fiasco we’re on now.”

Alanna smirked. “Thanks for reminding me. But I still value my logic.”

“Women were made to feel out situations,” he commented seriously.

She laughed bitterly. “It goes without saying that you’re a typical male chauvinist.”

“No, you didn’t hear what I said. Women think differently than men. For instance”—he pointed toward the jungle wall to their right—“most men would only see that as a barrier of trees and vines and a path in front of them. But a woman would take in much more—the odors, the sounds, the colors—utilizing all of her five senses to a greater degree than her male counterpart.” He allowed a small grin, watching her closely. “I’m saying that you’re cheating yourself by trying to rule your five senses with logic.”

Alanna mulled it over. What he said did make sense. “How did you stumble onto this little gem of wisdom?”

“I found out the hard way,” he offered. “Two years in a jungle getting hunted by the enemy and you become more aware of the five senses. You learn to depend on your intuition. Most men won’t do that unless they’re under severe stress. And even then, they may not. I’ve watched women react to other less dangerous circumstances and get a better overall impression of the situation. Men tend to take things at face value. The black and white of it. I think most women see
through
that and are aware of the shades of gray in life.”

“And so you ‘stretched’ your intuitive abilities?”

“It’s saved my life and the lives of others many times. You bet I did.”

Alanna remembered Tim Thornton abruptly, wondering for an instant if the senator was wrong. She quickly dismissed that thought, unable to believe that the senator could feel so strongly about Colonel Breckenridge without due cause.

“So, who canned your five senses and forced you to make all your decisions on the basis of logic?” he asked.

She was beginning to breathe hard again, despite the fact he was slowing down the pace. The trail twisted steeply, with roots and vines now crisscrossing the path. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she felt a tension headache coming on. How far had they gone? How far was it to the village? The question caught her completely off guard, and she blurted out the answer without stopping first to analyze it. “The man I used to live with, Paul Ramsey. He is a political analyst for a powerful lobby in Washington. I’m afraid we were mismatched from the outset.”

Matt stopped, pulling out the canteen and offering it to her as they rested at a small crest. His face had a sheen of sweat on it, but his eyes were hawklike in intensity, missing nothing. “A computer for a mind and no emotions?” he inquired.

Alanna gratefully drank the water down, the halizone taste seeming less potent this time around. She handed the canteen back to him. “Yes. You sure you aren’t reading my mind?”

He lifted the canteen to his mouth, taking a small swallow and then replacing the cap and snapping it back into the belt. “No. It just comes from experience,” he assured her.

“Look,” she begged, “can we rest just a moment? My feet are killing me.”

He checked his watch. “Five minutes.”

Alanna collapsed on the spot, balancing her weight on a thick root that had been washed clean of the surrounding soil by the ferocity of the September rains. Her braids hung like thick ropes, tendrils of hair escaping around her temples, softening the angularity of her high cheekbones. Matt sat opposite her, digging out a candy bar from his pocket, breaking it in half, and offering it to her.

“It’s high-energy. Go ahead, eat it.”

She stared down at it. “Will it taste as bad as that water?”

He shook his head, a glint of laughter returning to his gray eyes. “No, I promise.”

The seconds flew by in companionable silence, the only sound the plop, plop, plop of water drops falling from the higher reaches of the trees to the lower leaves surrounding them.

“How long did you live with him?” he asked quietly, breaking the pleasant tranquility.

“Four years.”

“Meet him right after graduation or before?”

“I met him a year before he got his master’s from Harvard.”

He raised one eyebrow slightly. “Probably was the head of his class?”

She nodded, relishing the taste of the sweet chocolate. For some reason, it didn’t hurt as much to talk about Paul. Before, whenever she thought of him, she could feel the ache begin in her heart, and it was too much for her to bear. At times like that she would throw herself into her work to forget the whole fiasco. “He’s a brilliant man,” she said earnestly. “A genius.”

“Of ideology, no doubt.”

Alanna gave a muffled laugh. “God, don’t remind me!” She rolled her eyes upward. “I try to forget the hours we spent discussing economics, politics and social issues. He always won out with his damn logic.”

“How did he take that volatile temper of yours, Alanna?”

Some of the humor went out of her. “You can probably guess. It was simply a matter of control as far as he was concerned. Mind over matter or whatever.” She gave a little shrug. “He had a minor in psychology, and he was convinced that my childhood was responsible for my reckless emotional state.”

Matt tilted his head, watching her closely. “In what way?”

She finished her half of the candy bar, making a small knot of the paper and slipping it into her drenched raincoat pocket. “Both my mom and dad died in a car crash when I was two. I—I don’t really remember too much about it. My aunt told me I was in the hospital for almost six months recovering.” She forced a smile. “In a way, I’m glad it didn’t happen when I could recall it. It would be too painful…too horrible,” she murmured, swallowing hard. She looked away from his compassionate gaze, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Why on earth was she letting him evoke all of these long-buried emotions? She had brought up the subject of her childhood only once with Paul, and he had never let her forget that it was responsible for her rash temper and explosive reactions. And if she cried, he would calmly tell her that it wasn’t necessary, that her parents had been dead twenty-seven years and it was far past the time to bury that memory and go on living. She hugged her arms around her knees, drawing them close and shutting her eyes tightly, hating to hear those same sing-song words echoing in the corners of her mind. It had been a year since she’d left Paul, and she could still recall with absolute clarity his speech on the topic.

“Did your aunt and uncle raise you then?”

Alanna looked up, responding to the coaxing gentleness in his voice. “Yes. I know they loved me, but it just didn’t turn out right. Both of them had their own careers, and they didn’t have any children of their own.” She shrugged. “I spent a lot of my time reading books, writing stories in my room. I learned how to keep myself entertained.”

Matt nodded, rising. He held out his hand to her. “Personally, I like your unleashed emotions,” he murmured.

Alanna’s lips parted as she looked at his outstretched hand. Without thinking first, she placed her smaller one in it, feeling the warmth of his grip as his fingers closed around hers. He pulled her upward easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her heart was pounding erratically, and it wasn’t from the altitude. It was from his touch.

Matt released her, a curious smile on his mouth as he reached out, lightly brushing her cheek with his fingers. “Alanna, don’t ever apologize for who and what you are. The woman underneath is very warm and loving. Let her surface,” he murmured. “Let yourself laugh and cry. Don’t let someone tell you that it’s right or wrong. And throw that damn logic of yours out the window. It’s stifling the hell out of you. Come on, we’ve got some time to make up.”

A tremor of longing coursed through her. For a split second, she thought he was going to lean over and kiss her, but then he turned and started up the trail. She wanted to feel his mouth upon hers once again, she admitted to herself. He was honest in a way she had never known a man to be. Woodenly, she followed him up the trail, so many sensations exploding within her that another mile fell away under her feet without notice.

*

He called a halt at the fourth mile, and Alanna leaned heavily against a tree, sliding down to the wet ground with a sigh. “Thank you,” she murmured sincerely, removing her shoes and trying to shake the accumulated mud out of them. He smiled, squatting down in front of her.

“You have heart, I’ll give you that. Maybe not a lot of common sense, but you’re a stayer,” he said, opening the canteen and offering it to her.

Alanna grinned recklessly, feeling vital even though she was on the brink of physical exhaustion. “Paul would have said not to let the heart rule the head. Causes stomach ulcers or some such thing.”

“I’d rather have the ulcers,” Matt commented, returning the grin.

She gave the canteen back to him, enjoying his closeness. “Why are you so easy to talk to?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’s the chemistry between us,” he explained.

Alanna laughed lightly. “Oh sure, nitroglycerine and dynamite. A wonderful combination!”

“I’m not sorry about it. When I first saw you, I thought you were going to be one of those doves from the Hill who quotes economics.”

“I am.”

“No. Not really. Behind all that senatorial power you wield, there’s another side to you.” He pursed his lips. “look at you now: you’re in a foreign element, wet and probably hungry, and yet, you’ve come all this way without complaining. Think about it.” He got up, and she automatically held out her hand to him.

This time, he did not let go of her hand; instead, he pulled her toward him. Alanna’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up into his intent face, a shiver of expectancy racing through her trembling body. She felt his thumb lazily trace the outline of her jaw, trailing down the expanse of her slender neck. Her pulse accelerated wildly beneath his exploring touch.

“Such an incredible creature,” he murmured in her ear, pulling her against him. His mouth brushed her forehead, eyes and cheeks and dormant emotions she had long thought dead stirred to life. She shivered helplessly at his whispered words, his breath warm and moist against her face. Artlessly responding to his touch, she slid her arms across his shoulders, her fingers entwining behind his neck. She was aware of his skin, a little rough like sandpaper, against her cheek, and of the male scent of him that made her heady with anticipation. His mouth claimed hers gently, parting her lips, grazing them tantalizingly with his tongue. Alanna moaned softly, resting against his hard, unyielding body, her knees weakening.

His mouth dominated hers as she responded to his urging. This kiss was so different from the first—tender, tentative, searching and asking her to participate fully in the exploration. Hungrily, she returned the pressure of his mouth, feeling him suddenly stiffen, a groan coming from deep inside him as his embrace tightened around her. His arms pinned her hips against him, and she was burningly aware of his straining body. His tongue probed her mouth, tasting the inner recesses, creating a vortex of fiery desire that uncoiled from the center of her body. His hands slid upward, cupping her face now, dragging her inexorably into the passion of the moment. She longed to continue this new, exciting experience. But slowly, reluctantly, he removed his mouth from her parted, wet lips. She could only stare childlike up into his undisguised features, into eyes flaring with a silver glint of desire for her alone. A shadow seemed to darken his gaze for an instant, and she felt a subtle change in the charged atmosphere surrounding them. Was it worry? Disappointment? Alanna couldn’t be sure as she pulled herself from his embrace, feeling desire and rejection within the same moment.

But it was the rejection that finally won out. Alanna suddenly felt unsure of herself, and she took a few steps away from him, her fingertips touching her sensitized lips.

“Alanna?”

“Nothing,” she whispered painfully. “We’d better get going,” she said, feeling as if she were babbling like a child.

“Wait—”

She avoided his outstretched fingers, twisting away. “No,” she cried.

“Dammit, don’t run away from me. Come here.” He put a restraining hand on her arm and she halted. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.