Tempestuous Eden (7 page)

Grudgingly admitting that Tom had a point, Blair grimaced and said nothing.

“Taylor has been like a gift from heaven,” he told her flatly. “If I get to keep him for just a few months, I’ll be happy. He’s had us actually caught up for an entire week.” Tom shook his head with the wonder of such an event actually happening. “I don’t much care if the man is hiding something; I know what he’s giving me.”

Blair shrugged “I guess you’re right.”

“You still distrust him?”

“No, not too much of the time anyway,” Blair admitted.

“But occasionally?”

“Yeah,” Blair agreed. “Occasionally.”

“Women!” he snorted with tolerance. “You’ve spent hours with him; you know him better than any of us. What do you talk about most of the time?”

“Oh,” Blair said vaguely, “all sorts of things.” She took the liberty of reaching into the doctor’s shirt pocket for his package of cigarettes, handed him one and took one for herself, lighting both with a weak plastic lighter before continuing. “Craig has traveled a great deal. We discuss countries, customs. Art, music.” She hesitated, the frown furrowing back into her brow.

“What?”

“His Spanish is awfully good, don’t you think?”

“So what? We all speak Spanish! It’s not difficult to pick up when that’s what you hear all day!”

“No, but he came here speaking that well.”

Dr. Hardy sighed and lowered himself wearily to his cot. “Blair, I spoke Spanish long before I came here. Taylor happens to have a knack for languages. Some people do. You do yourself …”

“What do you mean, languages? Just how many languages does he speak?”

Cornered, the doctor shrugged. “Only five fluently.”

“Only five!”

Again her companion shrugged. “I happen to know because we needed a quick translation of a letter from a German correspondent the other day. Taylor spent some time in Germany. He picks up languages quickly. I never mentioned it to you because I know how your mind works.”

“Well, I had been losing my mistrust,” Blair admitted dryly, “but I think it’s making a comeback.”

“Because, a guy who looks like Hercules happens to be bright?”

“Ah! We’re back to square one! I can’t explain what I feel.”

“I can tell you what you are feeling, young lady,” the doctor said sternly. “Something very normal, and you should go with it instead of fighting it. You like Taylor, you really like him. And it’s scaring the pants off you, so you’re looking for ways out, for protection. You don’t need protection, Blair. You need to let go and take a chance.”

Blair chewed her lip silently for a moment. Was Doc right? Was she hiding behind these imagined suspicions because she had decided that caring meant hurting? “Doc,” she said softly, “I have been going with it. You’re the one who noticed that I spend all my free time with him.”

“Yeah.” Tom smiled sagely. “I guess I am.” He stood and crushed his cigarette butt into a nightstand ashtray. “Anyway, you studied psychology in college. You should be able to read your own mind. Although I don’t think we need Freud to decipher this situation!” Laughing, he tousled her hair. “Anyway, I suggest you go take your bath before the males in this crew start getting restless. Kate left some time ago, and it has been a scorcher today! Don’t deprive an old geezer like me a cooldown too long!”

Blair chatted idly with Kate as they relished their leisure time in the cool water. Kate, as usual, began to feel the chill of the water first. “I never understand this!” she moaned, crawling from the water and wrapping her towel around her shoulders, teeth chattering. “First, I’m so hot I could die! Now I’m dying for a cup of coffee to warm up!”

Blair chuckled. “Go on back. I’ll be right behind you.”

Kate looked momentarily unhappy. “I always hate leaving you alone.”

“For goodness’ sake,” Blair demanded. “I’m fine! No one is around for miles except at the compound. Go on!”

Kate smiled. “I guess I will.” Her eyes flashed mischievously. “Since all I have to return to for a warm-up is coffee, I guess I’ll go for the coffee.”

“And what does that mean?” Blair demanded laughing.

“I just wish Taylor wanted to warm me up!”

“Kate!” Blair protested with a frown. “Craig is just a friend, but he’s certainly your friend too.”

“That’s the problem.” Kate sighed. “He wants to be my friend, period. He wants to be a whole lot more to you!”

Blair shrugged. She and Kate were too close for her to attempt ridiculous denials. “I don’t know,” she murmured, suddenly grave. “With a man like Craig, I think it might be best to be a friend and friend only. He will travel on, you know.” Her gaze to her friend was slightly wistful. She had inadvertently made another point to herself. Craig would move on. By his own admission his lifestyle wasn’t geared to permanent attachments.

Was that why she looked to find fault with him? She had known love, and love had meant excruciating loss. Was she afraid that the combustion she felt inevitable between herself and Craig would leave her dependent, needing him, when she was sure that though he cared, he would still be gone?

No … she told herself. She knew what she was up against, knew that a physical involvement was not a commitment, but still accepted that she did need to experience that loving again even if it may be only physical and not eternal. She might never meet another Craig Taylor again, and she might go through life with her heart never freed from the past to allow her to live again.

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Kate advised with a bluish smile. Blair, still standing waist-deep in the water but impervious to its chill, suddenly realized her friend was shivering.

“I don’t underestimate anything!” Blair returned, chuckling and dropping her gravity. “Would you please go back? I can’t stand you turning blue like that right in front me. I’m coming right now, okay?” To prove her point she crawled to the bank and grabbed her towel.

“I’m gone,” Kate replied, zipping up her jeans. “I’ll bring a cup of coffee to your tent.”

“Thanks,” Blair called after her retreating form. She ruffled her towel strenuously through her hair, drying the long auburn locks as best as she could. Then, as she shifted her towel to rub the rough cloth over her shoulders, she paused.

She hadn’t heard anything; she hadn’t seen anything. But she had the sudden uncanny feeling that she was being watched. Pulling the towel around her, she made an alert instant survey of the surrounding foliage.

There was nothing there. Only grass, brush, and trees, occasionally rustled by a whisper of the faint breeze. All that gazed upon her were the brilliant leaves of croton bushes and the heavy green of grass and trees that was a never-ending part of the environs.

The only sounds were those of the rushing water and the faint, barely audible movement of the air.

Shaking herself impatiently, Blair dried off quickly and started slipping into her clothing. Jeans zipped, blouse halfway buttoned, she paused again, peering around her.

Again there was nothing to see, nothing to hear.

But she knew the feeling. It was an extra sense that most people did acquire at one time or another—a sense that was almost a certainty, warning that eyes were watching them….

“What is it with me lately,” she murmured impatiently to herself. Perhaps her imagination was simply working overtime. She was suspicious of every action of Craig’s, she was imagining herself being watched. Annoyed with herself and her lack of rational thinking, she quickly finished buttoning up, slung her towel over her shoulder, and followed Kate’s path back toward the compound. Her thoughts turned back to the fact that poor Doc would be waiting for her all-clear before heading down to the stream for his own bath.

But she was being watched, and not by a happy observer.

Craig was part of the whispered rustle of the brush again—a voyeur in pain. It had been bad the first day he had come upon her, but nothing compared to the misery he felt now. He knew the woman now, he longed for the total person—the mind, spirit, and essence of her—not merely her tantalizing body.

He spent his entire time frozen in the foliage with his every muscle taut, his mouth a grim line.

Too much of this will drive me over the brink,
he thought bitterly. God! And the woman couldn’t possibly imagine that her every movement was a study in fluid grace, that her simplest motion was a lesson in sensuality. He tried to close his eyes each day as she rose like a Venus from the water, drops cascading down the tanned silk of her flawless skin, sometimes hovering with enticement upon a rose nipple, then falling like crystal prisms. But closing his eyes didn’t help. Her form was ingrained upon the lids—beautiful full breasts, firm above the slender midriff, hand-spandable waist, and slimly shadowed hips. Shadowed, wonderful, mysterious … beguiling.

She didn’t know the torture her daily bath inflicted.

But he had to follow her to the stream, just as he had to watch her constantly.

Usually it was easy. They worked closely in the compound, and once he knew her itinerary for the day, his “baby-sitting,” as he had once termed it, was a breeze. The vacation the chief had promised. And it hardly bothered him to watch her as she worked. He enjoyed it. He felt he came to know her more each day by watching as well as talking during the evenings. He loved to see the concerned, serious knit to her brow when confronted with a problem, the smile slash her face with infinite warmth and beauty when she worked with the children.

Actually he loved watching her at the stream, but that was part of his misery. He cared too much for her to spy on her unawares; he wanted to see her so, free and easy in the water, but he wanted her to know that he was there. He wanted her revelry to be with him, for him.

It could be so, he told himself, then gritted his teeth harder. She was Huntington’s daughter; he was on an assignment. And for the first time in his life he couldn’t grasp pleasure for the easy sake of pleasure. He didn’t dare define what he was feeling, but it was there.

And he could control himself, so he would. He wouldn’t repeat the mistake he had made the very first day—that of allowing himself to be seduced out of control by the sweet trust that she seemed so willing to give him.

And so he was doomed to unhappy voyeurism. She had to be watched at the stream. If there were to be an attempt at abduction, this would be the perfect time and place. She was often alone here, far from the others, far from the compound.

Taking a deep breath, Craig followed her back through the quickly falling darkness to the compound. Right at the outskirts he changed his pattern, appearing to come from the opposite direction. He managed to reach the fire with her simultaneously.

“Hi,” he greeted both her and Kate, but his eyes were for Blair. He made no attempt to hide his admiration, but he was glad she didn’t know the extent of that admiration.

Blair smiled, wondering how he could show so much with his extraordinary eyes while still showing absolutely nothing.

“Coffee?” Kate was the one to return his friendly greeting.

“Surely, thank you.” Craig accepted a steaming tin from her and ruffled her hair. Blair was surprised at the jealousy the meaningless companionable little gesture created within her. Not a spiteful jealousy—Kate was her friend and dead honest. It was a peculiar spurt of envy; she didn’t receive enough of Craig’s touch herself to feel generosity with his bestowing it on another.

The moment was over quickly. Craig turned back to Blair. “May I presume on dinner this evening, Ms. Morgan?”

Blair shrugged but she couldn’t conceal her wry smile. “We can all presume on dinner this evening, Mr. Taylor!” she advised him.

“I think that’s my cue to exit!” Kate said with a smile. “Two at the old cooking pot are company, three are a crowd!”

“Kate!” Blair and Craig both protested at once. “Don’t be silly,” Blair continued. “We’re eating mush out of a pot! Not dining at the Four Seasons!”

“I don’t think it really matters does it?” Kate asked in her usual straightforward manner. “Besides I have to find Dolly. She wants to instruct me in a new vaccine before dinner. Enjoy the mush.”

Blair watched Kate walk away with dismay. Was it so terribly obvious that she and Craig enjoyed each other’s company alone? Or as alone as it was possible to be in the compound. It was true that the group all ate together, but as if by anonymous decision Craig and Blair were discreetly left to their own devices. It was strangely similar at times to being prime patrons of an elegant restaurant. Although they didn’t have the intimacy of a candlelit table in the corner, they did have the intimacy of the jungle’s shadowy darkness and the filtered light of the fire’s amber glow.

“May I?” Craig requested with a formal inclination of his head and gesture toward the “mush” pot. Blair shrugged with a smile and followed him. He prepared her a plate of watery stew with great care, a wry smile on his sensuous mouth.

Blair was silent until they were seated beneath the tree that they had both inwardly claimed as their spot. Then she went for a straight answer to the question that had been plaguing her since she had spoken with the doctor.

“I hear you speak five languages fluently. That’s quite a talent. How did you come to be so proficient?” She stared straight into his eyes, alert to any inflection they might carry.

His eyes carried nothing; they returned her level stare. “I like languages,” he said with a rueful smile. “They come easy to me.”

“But five!”

He shrugged. “No great feat really. I grew up in southern California, so I picked up Spanish from the Mexican kids in the neighborhood. I had an Italian grandmother, and if you have Spanish down, Italian is easy. A lot of differences are only in accents.” He smiled again. “I spent two years in Germany with the military, so I didn’t really learn the language, I absorbed it.”

“Go on,” Blair prompted, determined. “With English in there, you’re only on four.”

Craig hesitated for a fraction of a second, a hesitation missed if one happened to blink, which Blair did. She was suspicious and he knew it, but at the moment, training was serving him well. She had no idea what a strain it was to keep his easy grin plastered to his face.