Happily Ever After (31 page)

He didn’t really want to tell her that she’d
accused the man of having no balls.

Her timing couldn’t have been worse. Jack had been
in the middle of explaining to Jose that most of his other guides had abandoned
him long before they’d reached the ruins—that the snakes hadn’t gotten to
them, superstition had. Sophie’s question had come as an unwelcome punctuation
to his own. He’d gotten desperate and had just asked Jose if he’d lost his
nerve—and that after Jose had heard Jack tell Sophie how to say huevos...
a very strange homonym for both eggs and the male scrotum. Jack could
definitely see the connection, but he’d be damned if he would ever understand
how the two were used interchangeably. Sophie couldn’t have known.

“It was my fault, Jack, and I have every right to
know what I said to cause such an uproar! I only asked him if he had eggs! He
had no right to hit you like that!”

Jack groaned and pressed the meat more firmly to
his aching face. “Sophia,” he begged her. “Please ...”

“Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to ask
someone else,” she said stubbornly, and turned to Kell.

Kell’s brows lifted and he looked pleadingly at
Jack. Randall and Pete continued to look away. They’d explained everything to Kell
well away from Sophie’s earshot, and for once Kell was keeping his good humor
to himself.

“The odor of this meat is almost as hideous as the
bruise swelling on your face!” she declared.

Jack was grateful for the momentary change in
topic—even if the diversion was minuscule.

He nodded in agreement. “Can’t blame the man for
not offering a better piece, considering.”

“I paid for it!” Sophie complained. “It wasn’t any
of his business whether I intended to eat it or bury it!”

She was definitely a spitfire.

A beautiful one at that.

Jack tried to smile up at her, but couldn’t quite
manage.

“Did Jack ever get you your huevos, Sophie?” Kell
asked suddenly, trying to sound casual.

Jack glared up at Kell, curbing his tongue, though
not easily.

“Yes,” Sophie answered, frowning down at Jack. “I
have the eggs.” She gave him a beautiful pout.

Jack smiled to himself.

“I suppose I’ll go start breakfast!” she said,
obviously displeased with him. She spun on her heels and sighed as she left
them, and Jack’s smile turned crooked as he peered up at Kell.

She had her eggs all right, along with a deuced
ton of hot peppers. He hoped Kell would have smoke steaming from his ass when
she was through. For himself, he intended to stick to the bread. He tossed the
meat away with a grimace.

“Give it to the dog!” he demanded irascibly, and
looked up at Randall. The smell was making him sick.

“What dog?” Randall asked.

“Find one,” Jack replied curtly.

Randall’s eyes widened in understanding, and he
bent to pick up the offensive slab of meat at once. He hauled it away, much to
Jack’s relief.

Kell’s grin was annoying. “So you managed to get
Jose to guide us, after all?”

“Yeah,’ Jack said, as he watched Sophie work at a
distance.

Pete had followed her and was helping her set up a
small camp fire. He was explaining to her how to cook over the open fire with
the frying pan she’d insisted on bringing.

She didn’t even seem to realize how in tune to her
Jack was. He couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t seem to keep his mind even on
his work.

“How’d you manage that?”

“Thank Sophie’s money. Guess it’s true everyone
has his price.”

“Sure they do,” Kell agreed. “Including you,” he
added with a deliberate nod.

Jack’s gaze snapped up to meet Kell’s. His brows
collided. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kell shook his head. “You figure it out Jack.
She’s paying you to deliver her to Penn, isn’t she? And you’re doing it. Why?
Because she paid you?”

“No, I could care less about the money.” Jack’s
shoulders slumped. “I’m doing it because it’s what she wants.”

“Yeah? And how do you know what she wants, Jack?
Have you asked her lately?”

Jack didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to ask her.

When a woman couldn’t leave without dragging a
damned picture of her fiancé around with her, it didn’t take much to deduce that
she had told him the truth to begin with... that she did miss the bugger. Her
mood, until the egg incident, had vastly improved since getting off the ship.
It was obvious to Jack that she couldn’t wait to see Harlan.

It needled him.

Who was he kidding?

It fucking hurt.

He was almost grateful for the pain in his face
because it reflected the one growing in his chest... that aching feeling of
loss even before she was gone.

Hadn’t what happened between them meant anything
at all to her?

How could she sit there humming so cheerily over
the damned frying pan?

She had paid him—and very well—to do a
job, and it was nearly done. Then he could go on with his own work far more
comfortably after she was gone.

So why was he feeling as though he’d lost his best
friend? Why did he suddenly feel like handing everything over to Penn and just
throwing up his hands and going home?

“What’s your price, Jack?” Kell asked
enigmatically, then walked away.

Jack turned glared at his back as he went, and
questioned how much his life would be worth if he couldn’t wake up and face the
day... if he had to go to sleep at night wondering what might have been...

Sophie continued to hum and sing, talking
animatedly to several of his crew as they set up camp. Jose was expected
shortly and energy was high. The crew seemed to share Sophie’s enthusiasm.
Every last one of his men had a stake in what they would find. They had applied
themselves to learning their chores aboard ship solely for the privilege of
muddying their hands in the rich Yucatan soil. Only Jack’s mood was dour.

What price was he willing to pay for his pride?

How much was honor worth?

He thought about it for an instant, and
wondered... had anyone even bothered to pay for the eggs?

He didn’t think so, but hell... Sophie’s bribe
money would more than make up for it.

And everyone was bound to pay for it later.

He kept his mouth shut anyway, determined to allow
Sophie a chance at her moment of glory. It meant a lot to her, and it meant a
lot to him to see her succeed. But he wasn’t about to eat her food. From this
point on, it was every man for himself.

It was no use: Sophie was a disaster as a cook.

She didn’t want to pout, but couldn’t help it. It
certainly wasn’t easy to cook nearly sixty eggs in a single frying pan over an
open flame. She took such care with the first few, but in the end they’d all
ended up scrambled. And it was just as well. They were much too spicy to eat
anyway. She nibbled at her bread as she stared at her plate.

The only thing that kept her from running away in
utter humiliation and pouting in the privacy of the woods was the simple fact
that it would be the easy way out. To abandon her food now, and leave everyone
else to bravely force his down, was too cruel by far.

On the other hand... she might do them a mercy if
she left, because then they might pour out their plates on the ground and bury
the evidence, rather than sit there with their stoic expressions while they
struggled to eat.

Sophie felt sorry for them. They’d been hungry and
looking forward to a hearty meal to begin the journey.

“This is... very good,” Peter offered, as fat
tears streamed down his mottled cheeks. His blue eyes glistened with as much
sincerity as he could muster considering that his mouth was probably on fire
and heat was burning through his nostrils. He struggled to swallow as Sophie
watched.

She lifted up her fork and guiltily stabbed at a
blackened crumble of egg... or maybe it was a pepper... or ham. She couldn’t
precisely tell.

She swallowed convulsively and lifted the fork to her
lips, saying a tiny prayer that she might be spared the pepper. Her water was
practically gone... and everyone else’s as well. Desperation was setting in.
She could see them greedily eyeing one another’s canteens, their expressions
covetous. Sophie would have gladly offered hers... except that she was starved
as well, and she would literally perish where she sat if she ended up with a
mouthful of peppers and no water.

Meanwhile, Jack was feasting on some exotic dish of
Maria’s concoction, a private meal for just the two of them.

That woman
had arrived with her father and two other men—her brothers perhaps,
because the resemblance was strong—and the five of them were seated
separately from the rest, discussing something of import.

Jealousy reared again, and Sophie couldn’t help
but notice how pretty Maria was, with her large, trusting black eyes. She
wanted to draw her, capture her spirit, even as Harlan’s almost forgotten
letter came to mind. His words haunted her:

... skin so
velvet brown and eyes so deep a black a man may sigh to see his own reflection
in her eyes. And hair... Christ, I have never had the joy of touching hair so
rich it flows through your hands like the mane of a fine riding horse.

Sophie’s cheeks heated.

Was Jack enamored of her?

She was certainly lovely enough. Sophie couldn’t
begin to compete. Her own hair was drab in comparison and her skin too pale,
her nose slightly freckled, and her eyes ... well, her eyes were her best
feature, she thought. They were different at least, and Harlan had often
commented on their odd golden color.

Maria was the embodiment of everything wildly
beautiful.

Sophie sighed wistfully.

It no longer bothered her in the least that Harlan
was so smitten with the women here.

But Jack...

Her eyes couldn’t help but follow him wherever he
went... whatever he did. She found herself even struggling to hear their
conversation and felt guilty for eavesdrop- ping.

Absurd as the notion was, she wanted to go over
and sit right in his lap!

She should do it, too, she thought petulantly. And
she would... except... except that she didn’t have any right to. Nor was she
quite so bold as to interrupt their conversation and seat herself so rudely in
his lap. So instead she sat there pouting, trying to swallow her food,
endeavoring to be as brave as the rest of the crew, and was near certain that
Maria would never, never bum her food.

Kell sat down beside her. “Don’t mind if I join
you, do ye?”

Sophie shook her head, casting Jack a wistful
glance.

“Don’t sweat it, Sophie,” he consoled her. “It
wasn’t so bad.”

What in particular? Her envy of Maria, or her
wretched breakfast? Sophie shrugged.

Kell smiled. “It really wasn’t. I swear.” She
looked at him hopefully. “A little hot maybe,” he relented, “but tasty
nevertheless.”

Sophie tilted him a glance, daring to hope.
“Truly?”

He nodded without the least hesitation. “Truly”

She eyed her plate a little dubiously. “It is
rather hot,” she admitted, and glanced up at Randall, who sat across from her
at a distance. “Poor Randall looks as though he could bury his head in a vat of
water.”

Kell chuckled. “Some like it hotter than others, I
suppose.” He winked at her. “But Randy is a wimp.”

Sophie lifted her brows at him.

“All right,” he confessed. “I’m a wimp, too, but
I’m telling you... there are men who like their food so hot it makes ’em sweat.
They aren’t happy until they’re snorting smoke from their nostrils.”

Sophie didn’t believe him, but she laughed anyway,
and appreciated his efforts.

Her gaze returned to Jack.

He was smiling at Maria, holding his plate before
him, lifting it up as though to thank her.

Maria beamed happily in response, her smile
radiant only for Jack, and Sophie’s heart twisted with envy.

For an instant... just a tiny little instant... she
hoped he would choke on whatever he was eating.

CHAPTER 29

Maria had brought him chocolate-covered
cockroaches.

Jack didn’t know whether to be grateful or
offended.

Jose had brought his sons along, as well as Maria,
and Jack was uncertain whether it was simply because he wanted to do the best
job for Sophie’s money, or whether it was an added warning for Jack to keep his
hands off Jose’s daughter. In either case, her father and brothers didn’t seem
the least displeased with Maria’s immediate attention.

He kept studying the four of them, trying to
determine whether a bowlful of chocolate-covered insects was a normal thing for
them, or whether it was their idea of some sick joke at his expense.

It didn’t appear to be the latter.

It seemed they didn’t give the bowl of delicacies
a second thought. Only Maria seemed to be eagerly anticipating his verdict.

Damn... he cringed at the sight of the
bugs—all those little charred legs. He knew damned well it would hurt her
feelings if he didn’t try one... but he just couldn’t bring himself to put
deuced insects into his mouth. He looked about at his men... at how they choked
and sputtered on Sophie’s cooking ... eyes watering and nostrils flaring ...
and longed to be eating beside them.

Some of his men ran for water, others were
determined to sit tough. Jack marveled at how hard they tried so hard for
Sophie’s sake to appear as though they loved her breakfast. She had them
all—including him—in her spell.

He glanced down at his bowl of
food
and spied a bristly leg poking up
from the creamy chocolate covering, and nearly spewed his guts where he sat.
First the rotting meat, now this...