A Wedding Story (10 page)

“It worked.”

He gave her a quick, warm squeeze. “Did I ever tell you about the time the Doc and I nearly got cooked for dinner along the Maranon?”

“You’ve never told me
anything,
Jim, and truthfully, at any other time I’m sure I’d be fascinated, but at the moment I just don’t care.”

He chuckled warmly. “We can’t stay here all night, Kate—”

“Why not? I’m rather fond of this step. Perfectly comfortable. Don’t see any reason why I should move.”

“The treads aren’t very wide. You can step over easily, as long as you keep your skirts out of the way.”

“No.”

“Here, I’ll help you—”

“No!”

“Okay. Not going up. I understand.”

He started to loosen his hold and she clutched at his arm, pressing it against her waist. “Don’t let go!”

“I bet you never had to say that to a man before.” He sighed. For a moment, he rested his chin on the top of her head, a layer of warmth spreading over the panic.

“Jim?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for being nice about this.”

He lifted his head and Kate wondered why she’d said anything. “I learned a long time ago that yelling at someone had a troublesome tendency to make things a whole lot worse.”

“Oh.” There was no kindness in it then, merely expediency. She straightened, taking some of her weight off him. Her knees wobbled but held. “You can release me now.”

“Really?”

Her bravery lasted about half a second. “No.”

“Can you turn around?”

“That’s going to be a problem, too. And before you ask, moving in general is going to cause some difficulty, so you might want to take that into consideration.”

“If we move
down
you’ll get closer to the ground with every step.”

“Closer to the ground. I like the sound of that.”

“Thought you might. All right, here’s the plan. I’m going down a step—”

“Jim!”

“Just one, I promise. Only a few inches. I won’t even have to let go of you. Then, when I’m there, my feet firmly planted, I’ll guide you back. Ready?”

No,
she wanted to say, but she could not admit to him that she could not do something so simple. She’d humiliated herself already.

She held her breath the whole time. But Jim was as good as his word, his support unwavering, his calm presence utterly comforting.

“There,” he said when she’d eased down to the next step, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Yes, it was.
“It was pitifully slow and you know it.”

“Ready for one more?”

This time she almost meant it. “Ready.”

It seemed quicker going down than it had coming up, and it did, indeed, get easier each step of the way. So much so that she was almost—
almost
—sorry when they reached the bottom.

They’d barely hit ground before Jim let go and stepped away, as if he couldn’t stand to touch her a moment longer than he had to.

He turned half away from her, the torch he still held lighting the tense line of his jaw, his set mouth. “Better get started back,” he said.

“No.” She’d already forced them to waste half the night. That was enough. “You go on up. I’ll wait here.”

He half-turned toward the stairs, then stopped. “No, let’s get you out of here.”

“You’re not really going to make me face that moat again, are you?” She forced a smile, blessing the amount of practice she’d had. He came closer, peering at her a bit too closely, and she felt her smile start to wobble. “What’s the matter? Afraid of all those nasty spiders without me to clear the way for you?”

“You caught me.” His brow smoothed, the severe lines easing. No doubt anticipating getting on his way, unencumbered by her.

“Stand there much longer, Jim, and I’ll start thinking you can’t tear yourself away from me.”

“You tried.” Awkwardly, he chucked her beneath the chin as if she were a child. “Never feel bad that you tried.” He spun so fast the torchlight danced in a circle, and started up the stairs at a pace at least five times what they’d been able to take when she led the way.

Kate held on until the sound of his sure footsteps began to fade. Then she backed up until she came up hard against the wall and sank down into a miserable little ball.

It only matters that you try your best.
The platitude mocked her. She distinctly remembered spouting it more than once when she was raising her sisters.

What an utter crock.

H
is torch finally sputtered out about two-thirds of the way back down. Thankfully, it was after he’d passed that missing step, which was about the only thing he had to be grateful for in the whole damned mess.

Without the glare of harsh light in his eyes, he realized there was light below. Carefully he peered over the edge but could only see the descending coil of stairs, a bright orange glow seeping up from the center.

“Kate?” he called.

“Yes!” Her voice was clear and steady, as welcoming as the light.

She was all right, then. Poor thing. It was hard to think of her as a calculating, grasping woman when she’d shuddered with fear in his arms. Still, it wasn’t as if one had much to do with the other, did it? he reminded himself. And if her terror had been real, and he was convinced that it was, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t play the card again if she suspected he were vulnerable to it.

When he reached bottom she was waiting for him, posture as beautifully erect and proud as a duchess anticipating her guests’ arrival. There was no hint of the woman who’d shivered on the stairs, who’d quivered so deliciously against him that he’d nearly forgotten the reason for it, nearly forgotten the
who
and the
where
and simply lost himself in the feel of her. She was very easy to lose oneself in; he’d done it years ago, in a heartbeat, and wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever found himself again.

“You lit the torch,” he said. “I should have done it before I left.”

She shrugged and smiled. “It chases the spiders.” The torchlight loved her, turning her hair to bronze, her skin to amber. “So? What’s the next clue?”

He lifted one hand and opened it, pouring out a river of crushed rock, the granite chips glittering when the mica caught the light.

“Dust?” She stepped forward and poked at the flakes remaining in his palm. He wanted to tell her to back off, that she’d no idea what she risked when she came so near.

But then she’d back off.

“I know you’re good, Jim, but that’s not much of a clue. Do they really want us all stumbling around stupidly, not knowing where we’re going?”

“It’s a newspaper. I wouldn’t put it past them.” He dusted his palms together, whisking away the remaining bits clinging there. “But I don’t think that was the plan this time. There was obviously some sort of rock or tablet there, but somebody crushed it before I got there.”

“Well, there’s just fair play all around, isn’t there?” She bent down, tilting the torch to illuminate the small pile of crushed rock, and poked through the remains. She picked up a large chip and peered closely at it. “There’s something carved on it.” She straightened and dropped the shard into his palm.

“I noticed that.” He tossed the stone away.

“Hey! Why’d you do that?”

“Because it’s worthless.”

“It’s all we’ve got.” She hurried to where it had bounced off the wall. Head down, she searched the floor intently.

“Kate, come on. I saw what was up there. We’re not putting the damn thing together like a jigsaw puzzle. You’d have a better chance of swimming the length of the Amazon alone than we do of finding something useful in that pile of gravel.”

“But there was something on it.”

“I saw it. A vee, the tip of an arrow, a goddamn clown hat. It could be a hundred things. And I can remember well enough what the stupid thing looked like without wandering around with it in my pocket.” He hadn’t really meant to yell at her. But the frustration gnawed at him.

His greatest strength in the field was his preparation. He left nothing to chance, anticipating every possibility, and so when the unexpected happened—and it always did—the problems were usually small, simply solved. At least they always had been until the last time.

But this—he was constantly scrambling, running behind, bumping up against walls and bouncing off like a windup soldier. He hated it.

Kate, however, for all the fussy fragility of her appearance, was not the type to wither just because a man yelled at her. Hands on her hips, she matched his glare. “So what, exactly, are you suggesting we do next?”

He had a very clear and lurid image of what he’d like them to do next, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate the suggestion. “I could beat the next clue out of Hobson.”

“I imagine you could,” she said. “But I also expect they’d disqualify us a minute later.”

“Spoilsport.” He gave up the idea with some reluctance, though he knew full well she was right. But it would have made him feel immensely better. “Most of the other competitors aren’t exactly working to cover their tracks as far as I can tell. We’ll just pick up somebody’s trail and follow it,” he said sourly. “Lord knows, it isn’t as if the major hasn’t ridden my draft more than once.”

“But—”

He lunged toward her, snatched the torch from her hand, spun, and put her behind him.

“Jim!”

“Hush,” he said, brandishing the torch before him, fleeting, eerie, glowing figures flaring on the walls for an instant before merging into shadow. “I heard something.”

“Really?” Her hand settled on his shoulder as she peered over it. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“You haven’t spent half your life wondering if there’s a tiger just beyond your tent, waiting to pounce, have you?” he whispered back. “Now
hush.
”

Her breath remained steady, as if she had no worry at all about his ability—or willingness—to protect her. Her hand remained on his shoulder, resting casually. It was as if all the contact of the day had removed that barrier between them, so that it was no longer unthinkable for her to touch him when and where she chose. Yet she seemed to barely notice the contact. But it seared him, the heat of her skin burning through his shirt, daring him to grab her hand and drag it down to places far more daring than his shoulder.

He’d almost decided that his nerves and his imagination had gotten the better of him when he caught the flutter of pale fabric in the black arch of the doorway.

“Jim,” Kate whispered, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

“I see it.”

The white figure floated into the room. For an instant Jim thought that one of the other fools in the contest had decided to try and dissuade them with a little mock haunting. He couldn’t help but be insulted; did one of them really think he would buy such a thing? But then the specter slid farther toward them, barely into the edge of the glow cast by the torch.

It was the robe-wrapped young man from the ballroom on the first day. He was as completely covered as before, head, body, toes, making it impossible to guess at his expression or intent. Only his eyes showed, a dark reflection when he moved into the light.

He stood motionless in the center of the room, watching them.

“What do you think he wants?” Kate whispered in Jim’s ear.

“How the hell should I know?” The muscles of his back and shoulders tensed in preparation.

“I thought you knew his father.”

“
If
that
is
the son of the Amir—which we don’t know—and
if
the Amir hasn’t been overthrown since I was there, and
if
the Amir even cares or remembers meeting me ten years ago, yes, I know his father.”

“That’s not very much help.”

“It almost never is.”

A good thirty more seconds passed in silence, which felt more like thirty minutes. Kate had apparently had enough of waiting.

“Hmm.” Before he realized what she was about, she’d stepped from behind him, waggling her fingers at the white-clad man. “Yoo-hoo. Hello there. Do you speak any English?”

“For God’s sake, Kate, what do you think you’re doing?” He snagged her wrist and hauled her back behind him where she belonged. “Stay behind me.”

“Heavens, Jake, if he intended to hurt us, he would have by now. He certainly seems to be alone. What could he do?”

“I know it’s your automatic reaction to any man and you probably can’t help yourself, but
don’t flirt with him.
”

“Oh, why not?” She tried to inch out from behind the shield of his body. He stuck out his arm to hold her in place.

“Kate, do you know how many wives the Amir has?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Do you have
any
idea how many of them had any choice whatsoever in the matter?”

“Oh.” That shut her up. For all of about five seconds. “Oh, just look at him, Jake. He’s only a boy.”

“I believe the Amir took his first wife when he was eleven.”

She waited a bit, and then: “He’s older than eleven.”

“I would say so, yes.”

Head tilted, he’d watched them the entire time, without so much as a flick of a finger. Suddenly he bent down, his hand emerging from the deep folds of his sleeve, and dropped a roll of paper on the floor. He straightened, nodded to them, and melted into the darkness.

“Well, would you look at that.” Kate made a beeline for it, brought up short when Jim grabbed her hand. “Would you
stop
doing that!”

“That’s not what you said when I caught you before you fell through the stairs.”

She stopped trying to tug away. “Point taken.” At least the woman knew enough to recognize when she was wrong. “But I hardly think it could be dangerous. Maybe he left me a present. He seemed to like me.”

“I’m sure he did,” Jim growled.

“His family must have extraordinary jewels,” she said. “Just think…one nice necklace, and I can go home right now.”

“I don’t think that…” he began. But then he saw the teasing glint in her eyes, the smile that flirted with the corners of her mouth. “You’re teasing me.”

“You need it, don’t you think?”

He realized his fingers were still looped around her wrist and abruptly released her.

“I really don’t think quite
that
much of my charms, you know, she said.” Her eyes flashed a warning. “Don’t say it.”

He swallowed his quick rejoinder, and his smile. He did not want to be so drawn by her. Kate, in a playful mood, was irresistible. But if she had not been charming, lovely, and skilled in attracting a man, she wouldn’t have snagged poor Doc so easily, would she?

She’d moved closer to the paper the young man had placed on the floor.

“Kate—”

“All right, I won’t go any closer. Not until you’ve thoroughly satisfied yourself as to its benign nature.” But she bent at the waist, bringing the torch closer to the paper. “What is it, do you suppose?”

He joined her, squatting down to inspect it from a closer angle.

“It looks innocuous enough,” she said.

“So does a jellyfish. Until it floats into you.” His thigh throbbed at the memory. “Give me your shoe.”

“My shoe? Why
my
shoe? Why don’t you—oh, all right.” She shoved the torch at him, put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, pushed aside an entire snowstorm of ruffles and lace and petticoats, and tugged off a black leather pump.

“Hey, that’s better. You’re learning. I didn’t have to threaten you once.”

As she straightened, Kate smoothed her skirts back into place and thrust the shoe at him. “You weren’t just trying to catch another glimpse of my stockings, were you?”

“Of course not.” But it was a very nice bonus.

“What are you—” She broke off as he hammered the small scroll, very thoroughly, with the heel of her shoe. “Okay, I now know what you were going to do with my shoe, but I still don’t know why.”

He tossed her shoe back at her and she caught it easily. “There’s only so much trouble one can tuck into something that small. I figure most of the possibilities are alive—scorpions, small vipers, maybe a poisonous spider.” He nodded to the now crushed roll of paper. “None of those will be a problem now.”

“Eewww.” She inspected the sole of her shoe with open suspicion. Finding nothing, she shrugged, set it down, and wriggled her foot back into place.

He carefully pinched the edge of the paper between his thumb and forefinger. He’d smashed it enough that it didn’t unroll easily when he lifted it. A couple of quick flicks of his wrist solved that problem, and he held it at arms length.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re overly careful?”

“Yes,” he said, snapping the paper a couple of times in the air. “I just don’t believe there’s any such thing.”

“What are you doing now?”

“There is such a thing as contact poison.”

“Really?” She stepped closer, peering curiously at the paper, and the smell of her overwhelmed him. It was no longer novel to him, and he thought that it should have lost some of its power by now. But familiarity had its lure as well; there was some pleasure to be found in trying to sort out the notes, decide which scent came from all those pots and creams and whether the sweetness that underlay it all was purely Kate or yet another artifice.

But it was terribly distracting at the moment. He eased away until the dank odor of damp stone and seawater overwhelmed the scent of her.

He took firmer hold of the paper and drew it closer, tilting it into the torchlight.

“What about the contact poison?”

“There comes a point, Kate, when you’ve taken all the precautions you can and, if you want to accomplish anything, you simply have to take your chances.”

She was a complicated woman, far more so than her superficial façade suggested. But for the first time he had not the slightest clue what she was thinking. She tilted her head, drawing her brows together, puzzled, thoughtful. “Yes,” she finally said, “I suppose there is, at that.” And then her meditative mien was gone, her mannerism briskly businesslike. “So what is it?”

“I’d say it’s a map.” He angled it her way. “Though a rather amateurish one, at that. And even worse, a pretty poor copy of it.”

“Not exactly a work of art, is it?” She studied it, focused, intent.

“What do you expect from the
Sentinel
? Probably their idea of a treasure map.”

“Is it the real clue, do you suppose? Or is someone trying to lead us astray?”