Hidden Fire (12 page)

With that, he surged forwards, burying himself deep inside her. Gili cried out as he stretched her, filling her with his hardness. It felt right. And when he lowered his upper body onto her breasts, that felt right, too.

He started to move, withdrawing and plunging deep again. Gili lifted her lower body and met his every thrust, curling her legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

Tension coiled within her. She threw her head back and gasped, only vaguely aware of the curl of white smoke above them.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Sensory overload pushed her temperature higher. Sweat slicked her body. Her vision narrowed until all she could focus on was the sight of Morgan's face. The flush that stained his cheeks. The rasp of his breath through lips curled back in straining control.

She knew she wouldn't last much longer. Morgan increased the speed of his thrusts, ramming into her hard and fast. She matched him movement for movement, muscles contracting around him. With one final thrust, Morgan threw back his head. Gili joined him, her cry echoing his as the tension snapped and she convulsed, rippling spasms spinning out to encompass her whole body.

The power of the climax was so great Gili felt consciousness slip for an instant. The world spun away and she found herself standing in a dark, deserted tunnel lined with sparkling flashes of iridescent greens and blues, and the fiery flash of brilliant red.

In her hands, she held a stone the size of a large bird's egg. A rough-cut stone that reflected the colors sweeping the sandstone walls around her.

Gili's heart swelled with pleasure. A sense of peace filled her. A comfort that stretched back through generations of myth, and knowledge that destiny would be fulfilled.

She smiled and closed her hand over the precious object. The brilliant red of the gem leaked through, outlined each finger with color.

With a flash, the image changed and Gili held a handful of fire. The flames flared and grew until they spread from her hand to her arm, until they slid down her body and surrounded her feet with a ring of flickering red flashes. She was a being of fire filled with power and a magic as old as the land that sheltered the
Dreamtime Fire
.

Remember the fire, Gili lubra.

The words reverberated through her brain, lodging deep in her heart. The fire burned down. The images above her thinned, breaking into strands of white mist that swirled around her before dissipating and becoming nothing more than smoke from the carbide lantern.

Gili rolled her head on the sleeping bag, struggling to cast the dream—or vision, if that was what it was—aside. In the distance, she heard another voice, calling her, urging her to respond.

“Gili? Gili, are you alright?”

Blinking her eyes, she turned her head and stared at Morgan as he hovered over her. He kept his weight balanced on his arms, his body still intimately connected with hers.

Heat swelled, filling her with the fire from her vision. She flexed her internal muscles then released them, only to repeat the movement when she felt Morgan growing inside her.

“Never been better,” she managed to whisper.

“Come on, Missy. Time to rise and shine.”

Gili jerked awake with a start. Rearing up in the sleeping bag, she suddenly remembered she had nothing on and clutched at the heavy fabric to cover her breasts. She squinted, trying to bring the chocolate brown eyes into focus. “Charlie?”

His teeth flashed white as he smiled. “That be right. Old Charlie.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the entrance to the mine. “The Missus. She cooking your breakfast. You come and get it now. Them witchetty grubs don't taste so good when they get cold.”

Chuckling to himself, Charlie stood and shuffled out of the tunnel.

Gili pushed the hair back from her face and peered at her watch. Six-thirty in the morning? Didn't these people ever sleep? And where was Morgan?

She touched the other side of the sleeping bag. It was cold, so he'd been up for a while. As she cast her mind back to the previous night, a flush of heat rode her cheekbones.

Did she regret it? Not likely. But how would Morgan react this morning? From what she knew about Morgan, and given the mixed signals he'd been handing out, in all likelihood he'd be pissed off. With himself
and
with her.

No point worrying about it until she had to. Hell, he just might surprise her. Shaking her head at the notion, she grabbed her jeans. They were still a little damp around the lower legs, but they'd have to do. A search in the bottom of the sleeping bag turned up the boxers Morgan had loaned her.

She grimaced. Same problem as yesterday. No fresh underwear and there was no way the boxers would fit under the tight jeans. Tossing the boxers onto the top of Morgan's pack, Gili struggled into the jeans under cover of the quilted material of the sleeping bag.

Goosebumps marched across her upper body. She shivered and grabbed her top. “Well, that's not going to do you much good,” she muttered, eyeing the mangled straps.

Her gaze tracked across to Morgan's pack and she grinned. Surely he wouldn't begrudge her the use of one of his shirts, particularly after he'd ruined her only top?

Feeling like a criminal, she dug around until she found the black t-shirt he'd worn the day before. When she pulled it over her head, Morgan's scent surrounded her, wreathing her in sensation that ignited pinpricks of desire again. Her body trembled with the force of the sexual need.

She groaned.
You have to stop this. You have a job to do, and if Morgan has his way, he'll do everything he can to prevent you
. Better she concentrate on that.

Shoving her feet into her borrowed boots, she stamped out of the mine, pausing at the entrance to take in the sunrise. Brilliant red and yellow, pink and orange, etched the sky in a kaleidoscope of color. Far more intense than any dawn she'd experienced in the cities she'd visited in the past, as if the clear air of the outback cut away all grime and pollution that might dim the colors. It was breathtaking.

“There you are. Grub's done. Take a pew.” Charlie grinned and indicated the log he'd pulled up beside the fire.

Gili frowned, trying to make sense of his native idiom. From her research before she'd arrived, she knew ‘grub' was what the outback people called food and she guessed ‘pew' must mean a seat.

Balancing on the log, she leaned forwards and eyed the battered frying pan Charlie had balanced on the rocks ringing the fire. Her jaw dropped at the contents. “Charlie, what…?”

“Witchetty grubs, Missy. Full of protein.”

Oh God, when he says grubs he really means…grubs
.

She gulped. “Th-they're still alive.”

“Not for long,” a voice cackled from somewhere behind her.

She twisted her head to see Narri stepping over the log and approaching the fire. Gili shook her head. For a big woman she sure moved quietly.

“Don't worry, Missy Gili, we won't expect you to eat the witchetty grub.” Narri laughed and squatted down in the red dust beside Charlie.

She took another pan and placed it on the fire before throwing in slices of what looked like some type of tuber root. To that, she added dark brown fruit that resembled a plump raisin. Using a long stick, she moved them around the pan.

“Yams.” She pointed to the white slices of root. “Sort of like a sweet potato. And bush tomatoes. Goes good with the smoked bacon Morgan brought out with him.”

“Where
is
Morgan?”

“He had to go back to the homestead and collect some equipment. The boys be comin' out today to do some work. We gonna build an Aboriginal village. Bus tour from the school in Winton is bringin' the kids out to see how the old people lived.”

Gili grimaced. “I wish I'd known. I would have gotten a lift to the station with him and rung someone in Winton to come and collect me. I can't seem to get a signal on my phone out here. I tried yesterday but—”

“No repeater towers out here, Missy,” Charlie interrupted. “Satellite phones are the only things that work.”

He flipped the grubs onto a beaten tin plate. “And Morgan left early, way before sun-up. He won't be much longer.”

Charlie layered fresh slices of bacon in the pan and placed it back over the coals. The smell of the sizzling rashers teased Gili's senses. Her appetite woke and her mouth watered in anticipation. When Narri handed her a plate with slices of yam and tomatoes, along with the crisp bacon, she attacked it with a sigh of satisfaction.

After a few minutes, her thoughts turned back to the mine. “Charlie, if you're an Elder, you know the folklore of the Aboriginal people around here, right?”

“Sure do, Missy. All Aboriginal people grow up hearing the tales of the Dreaming. The Dreaming is what links the past with the present for the people.”

She chewed on a strip of bacon, wondering how to convey what she meant without revealing all that had happened the previous night.

“So…this cave, or rather, the mine here?” She gestured over her shoulder. “Is it special in some way? As far as your ancestors go, I mean?”

“Did you feel the fire,
Gili lubra
?” Narri perched on the log beside Gili and nudged her in the ribs.

Gili started, heat rushing up over her face. God, just how much did these people know? “Wh-why did you ask that?”

Charlie sat in the dust in front of her. “All our young people, when they think they've found their mate, spend a night here in the mine. It's the spirits of the old ones. They live in that tunnel. Young ‘uns soon know if they're suited or not.”

Narri chuckled. “Lots of fire in the belly makes for lots of babies.”

“Spirits? As in ghosts?” Gili shook her head. “I'm not certain I believe in them.”
Never mind that's precisely what you think you've seen.
“So we're talking ghosts that tempt the watcher into having sex? Is that the fire?”

“That's about the strength of it, although if the feelings ain't there, no amount of prompting by the spirits will make it happen.” Charlie lifted his thick white brows. “How was your night with Morgan?”

“None of your business, old man.” Morgan appeared on the top of the soil dump to one side of the mine.

“Hey, son, you made good time.” Charlie waved him down. “Still some breakfast left if you want it. In fact, I was just about to convince Gili to try a witchetty grub.”

As soon as she heard Morgan's voice, Gili's heartbeat escalated. Her palms grew sweaty and she surreptitiously wiped them on the legs of her jeans. She dared a look at him to find him watching her from under the brim of his hat as he approached the campfire.

“I'll take some of the bacon and yams if it's going begging,” he said.

He dropped a small backpack near Gili's feet. “I borrowed some more of my sister's clothes for you since you don't have your own. You'll be damned hot in those jeans before the day's done otherwise. Oh, and you'll need this, too.” He perched a black felt hat on her head and gave it a tap to push it down.

He took the plate Narri handed him and squatted beside Charlie. “There's sun block in the bag. Use it. I have no desire to spend my time nursing you if you get sunburnt. And drink lots of water. Sunstroke's a killer out here.”

Well, so much for the polite greeting she'd expected. For that matter, what
had
she expected after last night? That he'd fall into her arms and declare her his one true love?
Get real, girl. He told you. No strings
.

She pushed down the germ of disappointment flourishing inside her. She was here for one reason and one reason only—to help her father. Anything else was just wishful thinking.

“Shame you didn't let me know you were going back to the station. I could have gone with you, or at least had you call a garage about renting a car.”

He lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug. “It wouldn't have mattered. No one is going to come all this way just to bring you a rental. You'll have to wait until one of us is going into town.”

“And when will that be?”

“We've got work to do. I'll think about it after that.”

Gili fumed. Damn him, he had no intention of helping her. One minute he wanted her gone. Next, he wouldn't let her leave. It looked like she was stuck there for the foreseeable future. She might as well put the time to good use.

Ignoring Morgan, she turned to Charlie. “Tell me about the opal, the
Dreamtime Fire
. I know we touched on the legend back at the station, but what makes this stone so special. And what's its connection to this mine?”

Charlie shook his head. “Too many people interested in that stone.”

“What do you mean too many people?” Morgan cut in. “Who else has been asking about it?”

“Some geezer been asking questions in Winton.” Charlie held up his hand. “Don't worry, our people aren't givin' out information to just anyone.”

Narri edged closer to Gili on the log. “Ask Morgan. He'll tell you about the fire stone.”

Gili rolled her eyes. “I don't think Morgan's about to tell me anything.”

“The opal is not for sale,” Morgan spat out.

“Yeah, I worked that one out, but I'd still like to understand why it's so important.”

Morgan handed his empty plate back to Charlie. “It's like the mother stone. From this one large piece of opal came all the tiny pieces that gave the Aboriginal people fire. But not just the fire to cook our food and keep us warm. The Creator, in his pelican form, told the Dreamtime people to keep the opal safe, both the male and female sides of it. The male is represented by the light, the female in the flames. They're the two components of the fire that allow our people to flourish.”

She held up her hand. “Whoa. I'm still trying to take this in. There are actually two stones?”