Elusive Hope (30 page)

A flock of blue-and-green parakeets chattered above him as a swarm of gray butterflies flitted between thick hanging vines. The melancholy
caw caw
of a toucan sounded in the distance. A lizard skittered up a tree trunk beside him then stopped to bounce up and down on all fours. James smiled, took a deep breath of the musky air, and allowed the rhythm of life to settle his nerves.

That was when the crackling started. At first soft and slick like the sifting of grain through a sieve. Despite the humidity, the hair on James’s arms prickled. One glance over his shoulder told him Blake and Eliza didn’t hear it or perhaps, so engrossed in conversation, didn’t notice. He faced forward again and swatted a leaf aside, scanning the jungle. A flash of periwinkle blue caught his eye, a glimpse of raven hair, graying at the temples. His heart cinched. Continuing forward, he kept his gaze on the vision, for that was what he knew it was. Just a vision, a dream from his past. His mother stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him, at first smiling with that I’ll-always-love-you-smile a mother gave her only son, but then sorrow squeezed the life from her expression. She looked so real, James’s eyes filled with tears. He shifted them away and continued onward. He wasn’t going to make a fool out of himself again.

“You left me,” she said as he passed her. “You went off to war.” Her voice floated on the edge of sorrow.

James plodded forward, but she kept pace with him, walking through ferns and trees and vines as if she were made of nothing. Of course she was made of nothing. She was a vision. A mist. Then why did she look and sound so real?

“Don’t leave me, Jimmy, not again. I died of a broken heart, you know. Died because you left me.” Tears trickled from her eyes.

You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here
, James repeated in his head, keeping his gaze forward.
What is happening, Lord?

“Jimmy, oh, Jimmy.” She began to sob, and James could stand it no more. He stopped and stared into her swimming brown eyes. Oh, how he’d missed those loving chestnut-colored eyes. God in heaven, help him.

Then she disappeared. But not before he saw a tiny smirk lift one side of her lips. Gripping the book to his chest, James bent over, nausea welling in his stomach.

“What is it?” Eliza caught up to him.

“Have some water, Doc.” The colonel handed him the canteen. “This heat can get the best of a man.”

James pushed it away. “No.” He straightened himself. “Let’s just get back to town.”

Eliza’s look of concern transferred into one of understanding. “You saw something, didn’t you? A vision?”

James nodded and stormed forward, ignoring further questions.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the jungle onto the path leading back to New Hope. Taking advantage of the widened trail, Blake and Eliza slipped beside James as they made their way past fields speckled with sugar cane sprouts. Finally the thatched roofs of their huts came into view. The sight brought a smile to James’s lips. After the macabre gloom of the temple, their quaint settlement was like a ray of sunshine.

“Seems you have some studying to do.” Blake gestured toward the book.

James ran his hand over the aged leather, faded and cracked. “Indeed. If I remember the Hebrew my father taught me.”

“I was surprised when you told me it was Hebrew. I would have never recognized it,” Blake said. “What baffles me is how a book written in Hebrew, an archaic language not used in centuries, ended up in Brazil. And buried beneath a pagan temple, of all places.”

James sighed. “I quite agree. It doesn’t make sense.”

Eliza leaned forward, peering at James from Blake’s other side. “How did your father know Hebrew?”

“He studied it. Wanted to understand the Old Testament better. My mother thought he was a bit overzealous.” James chuckled but suddenly sobered. Was that why he’d seen a vision of her? Because the Hebrew had brought her to mind?

Blake rubbed his sore leg. “And now Graves wants you to translate it for him.”

“I’ll do it,” James said. “But only to satisfy my own curiosity. Whoever wrote this was well educated.” He’d already determined that from the few pages he’d perused.

Blake swatted a bug. “Perhaps it will give some clue about the purpose of the tunnels.”

“And who or what was chained up below.”

“I just wish we could help Mr. Graves,” Eliza remarked as she stepped over a massive root. “And I’m still worried for Magnolia. It’s been two weeks, and we’ve not heard from the scout we sent after her.”

“Yes, I’m concerned as well.” Blake raked a hand through his hair. “Yet if she ran after Hayden, he’ll take good care of her.”

James chuckled. “And no doubt bring her back as soon as he can. There’s no love lost between those two,” he said as they entered the town.

Blake halted, lifting a hand to keep Eliza back. Dodd and Lewis caught up with them and stopped.

“What is it?” James followed their gazes to the meeting shelter.

The rest of the colonists were huddled together on the dirt floor, surrounded by a band of armed men, muskets and pistols at the ready. James blinked as shock sped through him. Upon seeing them, a tall man with curly black hair sauntered their way. Jeweled pins decorating his silver-embroidered waistcoat sparkled in the sunlight as he continued toward them, sizing them up with his gaze.

Halting, he placed one hand on the hilt of a short sword hanging at his side. “I am Captain Armando Manuel Ricu of the pirate ship
Espoliar
. Now, tell me where is the gold?”

At the very least, Hayden expected a slight protest from Magnolia, a feigned indignation, perhaps even a slap when his lips descended on hers, but instead, she moaned in ecstasy and pressed her curves against him. He wrapped his good arm around her and deepened the kiss. She moaned again, ran her fingers through his hair, gripping it in bunches as her passion grew. She tasted fresh and sweet, and he grew thirsty for more of her. Not just more of her physically, but more of her in every way. She’d become a part of him and he needed to feed that part with knowledge of her, with her laughter, her fears, her hopes and dreams.

He gripped her face and rubbed his thumbs across her jaw,directing her mouth to move with his, leading her in their passionate dance. She withdrew, her eyes brimming with desire as they shifted between his. Releasing her face, he brushed hair from her cheek. “Magnolia,” was all he could think to say. “Sweet, sweet, Magnolia.”

The air between them thickened, charged with a power that made his heart swell, his blood pulse, his head spin. Time slowed as their eyes searched each other’s. A breeze stirred leaves into a dance. Branches swayed. Fireflies sparked in the darkness. Something connected between them. Something deep and abiding.

She leaned her forehead against his, her breath puffing over him like warm fog. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She gave a little laugh and reached up to touch his good arm, hesitating at first then running a finger over his rounded bicep.

“That you enjoyed my kiss?” Hayden took her other hand and planted his lips upon it. “Or that you are kissing a man who’s wearing no shirt?” He grinned.

“Both.” She smiled, caressing his stubbled jaw.

“Sorry. I haven’t shaved since we left Rio.”

“No, I like it.” She smiled. “It feels like sand on my cheek.”

Everything inside Hayden that was real—his heart, soul, and spirit—ached. With an exhilarating, pleasurable ache. What was happening to him? Was this what it felt like to fall in love? Both thrilling and terrifying at the same time? Now as she gazed at him with such admiration, with such longing, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and protect her, keep her safe, and give her all his love forever.

He kissed her cheek, then trailed kisses down her jaw and back to her lips, finding them as sweet as ever.

“Thank you for saving me, Hayden,” she breathed out.

“My pleasure.”

She backed away. A tear slipped down her cheek. “No one has ever risked their life for me.”

He eased a curl from her forehead. “Because no one has taken the time to realize what a treasure you are.”

At this, she melted in his arms and began to sob. Unsure if he had said something wrong, he embraced her, burying his head in her hair that smelled of moss and orchids.

When she’d spent her tears, she kissed him, deep and powerful, and he realized he’d said the right thing. But her passion soon stirred his own to near boiling, and against everything within him, he nudged her back.

“We should stop.”

“Yes, of course.” She seemed embarrassed, leaned forward on her knees and started to rise. Hayden stood and helped her to her feet, bringing her hand to his lips for another kiss. He’d love nothing more than to continue kissing her all night, but she was unlike the other women he’d known. She was special, precious, and he didn’t want to ruin things with unbridled passion and regrets.

He stretched his wounded arm. “Thank you for tending my wound.”

“It was my first.” She gathered her salve, clean strips of petticoats, and thread and needle, and returned them to her valise. “Good night, Hayden.”

“Good night, Princess.” And for the first time, as he watched her walk to her shelter and cast a loving glance at him over her shoulder, he meant the title in the purest sense of the word.

Halting just a few yards from New Hope, Magnolia glanced down at her attire. She still wore her cleanest gown, the one she’d purchased in Rio, though it was anything but clean anymore. She’d pinned her hair up as best she could—without using her mirror—and scrubbed most of the dirt from her skin. It was going to be hard enough facing her father without looking like a filthy street waif. As it was, her nerves were in so many knots, they resembled the tangled vines crisscrossing the canopy. She knew he’d be mad, furious even. What she didn’t know was what her punishment would entail, nor how much debt would be added to her already massive bill.

Hayden stood beside her, allowing her a moment. No doubt he knew how nervous she was, had listened to her fearful chatter all day, had apologized more than once for bringing her back home. But all she could think of now was how exquisite he looked without his shirt. He shook his hair, raked a hand through it, and winked at her as sweat glistened on the rounded muscles in his arms and chest. Heat flooded her belly and she looked away. The jungle was good for Hayden. He seemed to thrive in the wildness of it. Oh, mercy me, the shame! She’d been raised with more manners than to stare at a man’s chest or the muscles rippling in his back as he moved through the jungle like a cougar. Just as she’d done all day from her position behind him.

“Are you ready?” He reached for her hand. She took it and allowed him to lead her forward as she remembered their kisses from the prior night. She’d never experienced such sensations—had never known they existed. Neither had she felt such deep affection for a man. The emotions had consumed her, filling every crack and crevice of her need to be loved, cherished, adored. He had said she was a treasure worth having. No one had ever said that to her before. And it made her want to never leave his side.

Thank God Hayden had the strength to stop kissing her. He truly was a gentleman. More than she ever realized. More than most of the sophisticated men who’d courted her. Yet now she feared for her heart even more than she feared her father’s wrath, for she had no idea whether Hayden harbored any true feelings for her. No doubt he’d kissed dozens of women before. He was a charmer. And she’d already had her heart broken once by a charmer. And once was more than enough.

On their right, Hayden pointed out the green sprouts of sugarcane and coffee plants rising from rows of rich dirt. They’d barely been gone two weeks and the fields looked completely different. Magnolia wondered where the men were, but realized it was nearing supper and everyone would be back in New Hope.

They skirted a large puddle and memories assailed her of the time she’d been so enamored at the sight of Hayden working in the field, she’d tripped and fallen into the mud. Of course, he’d come to her rescue. At the time she thought he was nothing but a plebian oaf.