The Bronzed Hawk (9 page)

Nick threw the striped blanket on her lap and dropped down beside her on the nylon chute.
“We’d better get some shut-eye,” he said, yawning. He stretched lazily, his muscles rippling beneath the black cotton shirt. He had half unbuttoned the shirt earlier in the heat of the day, and Kelly found she was having problems keeping her eyes off his powerful bronzed chest with its thatch of springy dark hair. “The trip to the village will be quite a walk, and I doubt if Pedro will put a horse at our disposal.”

“You could always play cards for it,” Kelly suggested, grinning.

He stripped off his shirt and folded it in a roll, then picked up his jacket and duplicated the action. He put both under his head and stretched out, sighing wearily. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to watch Nick as he prepared for the night, Kelly mused. Who would have dreamed that she could feel so intimate with any man after such a short time, much less someone as complicated and sophisticated as Nick? Yet, it wasn’t so strange when she really thought about it. They had experienced more emotions and trying times together in the past forty-eight hours than another couple might in a year of courtship.
Courtship? What an old-fashioned term for the passionate affair that Nick wanted to initiate, Kelly thought wryly. He wanted none of the graceful rituals that led to a permanent relationship, and she must accept that.

“You won’t need your jacket with this blanket for cover,” Nick said. “Take it off and use it for a pillow.” He watched her as she unzipped the jacket, took it off, and folded it carefully. Then as she would have placed it on the other side of their nylon ground cover, he reached out and dragged it a few inches from his own. “I thought we’d settled that last night.” He held out his arms imperiously. “Come here.”

For a moment she was tempted to defy him on general principles. Then, noticing the weariness in his face, she felt a strange tenderness. He had earned his rest tonight, she thought, and she wasn’t about to argue with him on such a trivial matter. She quietly curled up beside him with her back to him as she had the previous night. She felt his arms slide around her, drawing her closer to his warmth. He pulled the gray-striped blanket over both of them, tucking it under her chin,
and then nuzzled his face in the soft curls at her nape. “Your hair smells like wood smoke and lemon,” he said softly. “It’s delicious. You should patent it.”

She could feel the tempo of her heart increase as his lips brushed gently at the sensitive hollow beneath the silky ringlets.

“I don’t think it would sell,” she said faintly. “Not everyone is as discriminating as you. Most people prefer Chanel or Dior.”

“Philistines,” he said, his lips nibbling gently at her ear. “Your scent is much more erotic. It brings back tribal memories of cavemen seducing their women in front of a primitive campfire.”

“I don’t think it was seduction,” Kelly gasped, as he pulled her back even closer against him. She could feel the virile heat of his naked chest through the thin cotton of her shirt. “I don’t think they possessed that degree of subtlety.”

He chuckled, and they were so close she could feel the vibrations of the muscles of his chest. “I thought a more delicate euphemism was called for under the circumstances,” he said teasingly.
“I wouldn’t want to sully the ears of someone in your untouched state.”

“You’re not angry with me about that anymore?” she asked, trying to turn around to face him. “I wouldn’t have lied to you if I hadn’t thought it absolutely necessary.”

He prevented her from moving by the simple means of tightening his arms until they were like warm bands of steel around her. “Lie still,” he ordered. “That wriggling drives me out of my mind, and I’ve got to keep my cool tonight.” As she obediently quieted, his arms loosened a bit, and he answered. “I’m not angry. Though, if you ever lie to me again, I just may do something violent.” He drew a deep breath and buried his face in her hair again. “Once I thought about it, I found that I liked the idea of being your first lover so much that I didn’t give a damn about your ‘exaggerations’! I guess you’ve noticed that I’m a bit possessive of you?”

“I’ve noticed,” Kelly said dryly, thinking of his threat to the bandit leader.

“Very uncivilized of me. But no more uncivilized
than your virginity, sweetheart. How did I get so lucky?”

“You’re very sure of yourself!” At his answering chuckle, she added crossly, “It’s really none of your business, but I guess I do owe you something for those whoppers I told you. I suppose I was too busy with my career to get involved to that extent. I never saw what all the shouting was about.” Not before the appearance of one Nick O’Brien. “I guess that makes me even more of a freak in your opinion,” she finished belligerently.

“An enchanting freak,” he agreed huskily, as his hands moved up to the buttons of her blouse. “I can hardly wait to normalize you, love.” His hands were rapidly unbuttoning her blouse. “I wish to hell I could do it right here and now.” His hand deftly freed the front catch of her bra.

“Nick, no!” Kelly whispered, her body tensing with shock as she glanced wildly at the slumbering men in the clearing. “You can’t.”

“I’m well aware of that,” he said, his hands gently massaging her silky midriff. “Don’t worry, Kelly. I’m not about to ravish you in a fit of lust
for your nubile young body. I’ll wait until I can make it good for you. I’m afraid that this damn weariness and our possible audience would preclude that tonight.” His lips were at her ear again, and his breath was warm and gentle on her skin. “I just want to touch you. I want to hold you through the night and wake up with your lovely breasts in my hands. Will you let me do that?”

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea,” Kelly said breathlessly. The idea may not have been either safe or reasonable in view of her determination not to have an affair with him, but it was wildly appealing.

“It’s a
very
good idea. You’ll see, sweetheart,” Nick whispered. “You’ll like my hands on you.”

His warm gentleness was dizzyingly sweet as his hands left her midriff to caress her breasts tenderly. He was wrong. She
loved
his hands on her. For endless moments his hands explored the valley between her breasts, her nipples, and the creamy mounds. Then they moved up to her shoulders and her throat. Her upper arms, the hollow of her spine, her belly all received his
concentrated tactile attention. When his hands returned reluctantly to her midriff, she felt as if he must know every curve and valley of her body more thoroughly than she did herself.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said, his breathing a trifle shallow. “I’ll have to save the rest for the next time, sweetheart. All my good intentions are on the verge of going down the drain.” He pressed a quick kiss on the curve of her throat. “God, you’re a lovely thing to touch.” He snuggled close to her, his hands moving up to cup her breasts. “Go to sleep, Goldilocks. It may be some time before I can relax enough to join you.”

Kelly almost laughed out loud. Couldn’t he feel the crazy pounding of her heart beneath his hands? His explorations had not been meant to seduce her, she knew. But the gentle, probing curiosity of those long, sensitive fingers had made her wild with longing. For a moment or two she wouldn’t have cared if he’d ignored their snoring companions and set about showing her more potent delights.

“Yes,” she agreed huskily. “I’ll go to sleep.”

But it was a long time before she felt drowsy enough to ignore those warm, magnetic hands lightly cupping her breasts and fall into a restless slumber.

M
ATZALEA PROVED TO
be a tiny dusty village that looked as if it had been frozen in time over a century ago. It appeared to consist of just one main thoroughfare, which was unpaved. The street was bordered on each side by a straggle of adobe structures, which were dirty and generally seedy looking. The central attraction seemed to be the grimy chipped fountain in the center of the dusty road.

“It looks like an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti western,” Kelly said, as she wiped the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her jacket. “And
where is everybody? It looks as if it’s completely deserted.”

“It’s mid-afternoon, and that’s siesta time in Mexico.” Nick looked as hot as she felt, Kelly thought. Sweat had plastered his black shirt to his body so that it clung like a second skin, and his dark hair looked as damp as if he had been caught in a shower.

Shower. What a deliciously lovely thought that was. They’d been walking since just after dawn that morning—Nick had been correct in his assumption that the bandit leader would fail to supply them with horses. Consequently, they had trailed behind the outlaw band on foot, eating dust and slipping and sliding on the rough, rocky trails until Kelly wondered if she would actually make it to the village before collapsing from exhaustion. The coolness of the dawn had dissipated as the day progressed, and by noon they were both horribly hot and sweaty, as well as bone weary.

Matzalea may not have been an enchanted Brigadoon, but it had looked absolutely beautiful to her when they had reached the outskirts
some ten minutes earlier. As soon as the village had come into view, the bandidos had left their captives to their own resources. Right up until the last moment, Kelly had thought that the bandit leader might change his mind about the agreement. She couldn’t resist a sigh of relief when he’d laughingly called something back to Nick and then spurred his horse into a gallop, his men thundering at his heels.

“I’m so thirsty,” Kelly said, wistfully looking at the fountain. “Do you suppose that water is sanitary?”

“I doubt it,” Nick answered, his eyes searching the street keenly. “We’d better not risk it. It will be difficult enough getting out of here with no money or friends, without contracting Montezuma’s Revenge.”

“I guess you’re right.” Kelly sighed, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly. When she was a child, she had fallen ill with gastritis from drinking unboiled water in a little village in Ethiopia, and she had been so sick she had thought she might die. She certainly didn’t want to risk that again. “What do you suggest we do then?”

“There’s a tequila bottle painted on a sign over the door of that building,” Nick said, gesturing to a square adobe structure. “That’s probably the local cantina. Let’s see what we can do over there.”

The interior of the cantina was small but blessedly dim and cool after the cruel glare of the afternoon sun. The furniture consisted of a few tables and chairs and a crudely wrought wooden bar on the far side of the room. Evidently siesta time had taken its toll here also, for the room appeared to be deserted.

Nick deliberately closed the door behind them with a loud slam. “Let’s hope that will bring someone running.”

It brought someone, but she certainly wasn’t running. The woman who appeared in the doorway beside the bar looked as if she’d never hurried in her life. She was in her middle thirties and decidedly plump. Her black, shiny hair was pushed back in a loose bun, and her dark eyes were tranquil. She was dressed in a yellow peasant blouse and a full, bright-orange skirt that made her generous hips look even plumper. She
drifted toward them lethargically, her gaze as sleepy and uninterested as if strange gringos dropped in every day.

She did perk up, however, when she got a good look at Nick, Kelly noticed. The dark eyes actually lost their cowlike docility when he stepped forward flashing that charismatic grin, and spoke to her. He was evidently laying it on very thick indeed, for the señora was smiling, almost fawningly at him and answering with an eagerness that was practically vivacious.

“Her name is Carmen Rodriguez,” Nick said, turning back to Kelly after a few minutes’ conversation. “She’s a widow and owns this cantina. She’s going to let you stay here while I go and try to find some transport for us. It should be fairly safe. She says her customers don’t usually start arriving until six.”

Then he turned again and spoke rapidly to the woman. She gave him a glowing smile, nodded, turned, and disappeared through the door beside the bar. “She’s going to boil you some water for drinking. Why don’t you sit down? You look as if you’re about to collapse.”

There was a trace of anxiety in his voice that warmed her. “You’re just as tired as I am,” she said. “Probably much more tired. You half carried me over the roughest ground we traveled today.”

He shook his head, his eyes flickering with tenderness and pride. “You did it all yourself, Goldilocks,” he said gently. “And I don’t know another woman in the world who would have covered the kind of territory we did today without so much as a whimper.” He ruffled her sweat-darkened curls in a light caress. “You’re quite a lady.”

Kelly felt as glowingly proud as the day when she’d gotten her first lead story. She could feel the pleasure sing through her veins, and she experienced a sudden burst of energy.

“Then let me go with you,” she urged impulsively. “We’ll both rest when we’ve found that transport.”

He shook his head again. “There’s no reason for your going. Stay here and rest. We may be on the road all night. Carmen gave me a lead that
looks fairly promising, so I should be back shortly.”

Then, as Kelly still continued to look up at him with a stubborn frown on her face, Nick gave an exasperated groan and bent to give her a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “Look, Lois Lane, let Superman do his stuff. Okay? I swear that as soon as you get your second wind, I’ll let you fight the very next dragon we run across.”

Kelly smiled reluctantly. “You promise?” she asked lightly.

“I promise. The very next dragon that appears, I play maiden in distress to your Saint George.” He outrageously fluttered his dark lashes.

Kelly giggled helplessly and threw up her hands. “Okay, you win,” she said, crossing to a table and dropping down in a chair. She tossed her jacket on the chair next to her. “I’ll wait here.”

He rewarded her with such a warm smile that she felt breathless. “I think I’d better treasure this victory,” he said wryly. “I have an idea I’m not going to have too many of them.” He strolled over to the table and dropped his own jacket on
it. “I almost forgot to give you this.” He reached into the deep side pocket of the black jacket and pulled out a red bandanna-wrapped object and handed it to her casually.