Nicole Jordan (31 page)

Upon the Guardians’ arrival, Thorne struggled to his feet and helped Caro up, but after the first moment, Max only had eyes for Caro. Despite her ragged appearance, he thought she had never looked more beautiful.

When Hawk swung down from his horse and embraced her, it sent a fierce stab of jealousy through Max and made him yearn for the same right to take her in his arms. Yet even jealousy couldn’t dampen the profound relief surging through him.

His throat was so tight, he could barely speak. “Are you all right?”

Over Hawk’s shoulder, Caro locked gazes with Max, returning his intense stare with a weary smile. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Max wished the other Guardians would vanish so he could hold her and kiss her and reassure himself that she was truly unharmed.

Not unsurprisingly, though, Caro’s first concern was for her friend. “What of Isabella?” she asked Hawk.

“She’s safe and waiting impatiently for you to return so we can leave Barbary.”

“Thank God.”

“Yes,” Hawk added fervently, giving Thorne a friendly cuff on the shoulder. “And thank the devil you three survived. What happened?”

“Ryder was shot in the thigh when his horse went down,” Thorne answered. “But it wasn’t too serious.”

As if hearing his name spoken, Ryder roused enough to push himself up on one elbow, his eyes a trifle glazed and feverish. “It’s still bloody damned painful.”

Thorne grinned at him. “Cease your bleating, you codling. You have so many scars on your body, what is one more?”

He turned back to Hawk. “When we returned fire, Saful’s lackeys gave up the chase to follow Leighton’s group. And once we made it out of the valley, we were never in any real danger—except for the possibility of Ryder’s wound turning putrid. But Caro found a plant that she used to poultice his leg and make him almost as good as new. The trouble was, we only had two horses for the three of us, and not much water or food. And we couldn’t afford the time to rest in case Saful was on our trail. So we’re utterly exhausted and starved. I, for one, could eat a horse.”

“Not these valiant beasts!” Caro protested emphatically, gesturing at the weary animals that had carried them to safety. “They’ve earned a year’s worth of oats for their yeoman service these past few days.”

“Very well, then. A camel.”

“That I could possibly manage,” she agreed with a weary laugh. “And I would give my soul for a hot bath. I swear I could soak for a year.”

At her glib reply, Max felt a different turmoil of emotion flood him. How could she jest at a time like this? He’d been a soldier, so he well understood the value of using humor to relieve tension. And Thorne’s levity was habitual, Max knew. But he couldn’t accept it from Caro. Didn’t she have any notion of the agony he had suffered the past four days, not knowing if she was alive or dead?

Max was torn between wanting to hold her close and wanting to throttle her for putting him through such anguish and then joking about it.

But there was no time to do either.

“We will feed you shortly,” Hawk said. “But a bath must wait until we reach the ship. Saful could still be pursuing you.”

His warning made even Thorne grow sober again and ended all hint of laughter from any of the Guardians.

Four hours later found them welcomed by Captain Biddick on board the waiting schooner. They used a sling to hoist the wounded Ryder from the row boat onto the deck and then helped him below to one of the small cabins. As the schooner got under way, Caro tended to Ryder’s wound with supplies from the ship’s medical stores.

For her promised bath, she appropriated one of the other cabins. Isabella personally supervised filling a copper tub with hot, fresh water and then remained to assist.

After washing her hair, Caro leaned her head back against the tub’s rim and soaked to the rhythmic sway of the ship while her friend talked. Isabella’s yearning for female companionship was obvious, for she had not spoken English or Spanish in months.

She also apparently felt the need to express her great remorse for the twentieth time.

“You cannot know how I regret the dangers you endured in order to rescue me.”

Grimacing, Caro shook her head. “You would have done the same for me, Isabella, I have absolutely no doubt.”

“But of course I would have. That goes without saying.”

“Then there is nothing more to discuss. I don’t want to hear another word of apology.”

“But you must allow me to—”

“Enough!” Caro snapped, glaring with mock fierceness.

“Oh, very well.”

Isabella’s musical laughter soothed Caro down to her very soul. She lay her head back again and sighed.

In that moment she felt a tremendous wave of fatigue swamp her, possibly because she had let down her guard for the first time in days.

When Caro’s eyes fell shut, Isabella made a soft sound of self-deprecation. “Here I am chattering like a magpie, when I can see you are exhausted. I will leave you to rest.”

Caro made no protest, for she felt as if she could sleep for a year. Indeed, she barely had the energy to dry herself off. And her hair was still damp when she crawled into bed.

When she woke late in the middle of the night, she discovered that Isabella had brought a supper tray of bread and cheese and fruit juice. Caro ate hungrily and then promptly went back to sleep. When she woke in the morning, sunlight was shining brightly through the porthole.

She dressed, then went to check on her patient.

She found a dozen Guardians, including Max, crammed into Ryder’s small cabin, laughing at one of Thorne’s jests.

Her eyes briefly met Max’s searching gaze before she caught herself and shooed them all out so that she could rebandage Ryder’s injured leg.

She was pleased with his wound’s rate of healing and with the rapidness of his recovery. His fever was gone after a good night’s sleep, and he looked his usual handsome self, having bathed and shaved. But he had already grown restless and bored—not surprising for so active and intensely vital a man.

Relenting to his cajolery, she gave Ryder permission to go above deck if the captain would make a pallet for him. But she ordered him to keep his leg immobile until they reached Cyrene on the morrow. Then returning to her own cabin, Caro crawled back into her bunk.

It was late afternoon before she felt halfway human again. At the captain’s invitation, she joined the Guardians on deck at sunset.

They all gathered around Ryder, who was propped up on the cushions of his pallet like some sort of Eastern potentate, and celebrated with generous glasses of Madeira. After several toasts to victory, Isabella gave a heartwarming speech in which she thanked her dear friends and Mr. Leighton for orchestrating her rescue.

During the speeches, Caro found Max watching her with that same, quietly smoldering expression he’d shown during the early days of their journey—as if he was forcibly quelling his emotions.

It was all she could do to tear her gaze away, for she had her own turmoil of emotions to deal with. Namely, what choice Max intended to make for his future. The dangerous trials they’d endured when their rescue plan went awry would hardly have endeared him to the prospect of joining the Guardians.

She was grateful to be distracted moments later when Isabella linked an arm with hers and led her over to the port railing.

Golden-red rays of sunlight slanted across the Mediterranean, turning the surface to shimmering copper. It was a scene of breathtaking beauty, a symbol of life and hope and infinite freedom.

Isabella inhaled deeply, drinking in the view, then gave a shudder that Caro knew was heartfelt.

“I know I agreed,” Isabella murmured in a voice suddenly husky with tears, “not to regale you with further expressions of gratitude, but this view brings home so vividly to me all that I could have lost. I feared I might never see the sea again, or any of the loved ones I hold so dear.”

Caro slid her arm around her friend’s waist and hugged tightly. “It is over now, Bella. You must try and put it out of your mind. You are back among your loved ones now, and that is what really matters.”

Swallowing hard, Isabella responded with a watery smile. It was a moment, though, before she had her tears fully under control. “Your Mr. Leighton was quite concerned for you during the time you were missing.”

Caro hesitated before nodding. “That doesn’t surprise me. Max tends to assume a burden of responsibility for anyone he cares for.”

“I would say he cares for you a great deal.”

Averting her gaze, Caro stared out at the shining sea. She knew Max cared for her, but the question was, how much? Enough to remain on Cyrene now that their mission was accomplished? Enough to become a valued member of the Guardians? Enough to understand that this was her life’s calling, and to make it his own?

She was trying desperately not to think about the future. For days she’d been too exhausted to concentrate on anything more than survival. And certainly the Guardians’ cause was far more important than her own personal feelings. But now, when she should be elated by their success, she couldn’t shake her depression, knowing that her relationship with Max could soon come to an end. His goal of rescuing her friend had been met, so he had no further reason to stay on Cyrene.

Perhaps that was why he seemed to be avoiding her again. After his initial greeting, he hadn’t made a single attempt to speak to her. And Caro had the terrible suspicion it was because he’d decided he couldn’t bear to do as she wished and was reluctant to disappoint her.

Max had been a soldier, tempered by the forge of war. The scars on his soul were enough to make any man think twice about dedicating his life to a cause where danger was common and death might even result. A cause where you could so easily lose people who were dear to you.

He cares for you a great deal.

Was that true? Caro wondered. Had Max allowed her to become dear to him, perhaps even against his will? Was she a factor in his decision whether to join the Guardians?

She could very easily have died during their escape. Most assuredly, Max wouldn’t want to see her risk her life again. But would he rather end their relationship now and return to England so he would never have to face possibly seeing her be killed?

She felt her stomach clench. She knew she cared deeply for him. She’d been so certain Max would make an ideal Guardian because of his natural proclivity to cherish and protect others. And if he decided against joining, she would be bitterly disappointed. Yet she would be devastated if he left Cyrene for good and disappeared from her life.

At the pain that ripped through her, Caro inhaled a sharp breath. She would likely have to prepare herself for that eventuality.

Until now she had been glad that Max was avoiding her. True, it had been a torment not being able to touch him, or even to speak a word to him in private. But she hadn’t wanted to risk learning what his choice would be.

Perhaps, though, she would do better to question him about his intentions sooner rather than later. To confront him now, since waiting would only prolong the torture. In any event, she hadn’t properly thanked him for saving Isabella. If not for Max they might never have succeeded.

Even so, Caro couldn’t bring herself to face such devastation just yet. It might be cowardly, but she preferred to postpone the moment of truth as long as possible.

When she shivered, Isabella fell back into her motherly role. “Are you cold, dearest?”

The temperature was indeed dropping as the sun melted into the glittering sea, Caro realized, and the October salt-wind was cool enough to raise goose bumps on her skin.

Eager to get away from her friend’s penetrating gaze, she latched on to that excuse. “A bit. Will you forgive me if I go below to fetch a shawl?”

“Of course I will. And perhaps you should go back to bed. You do look rather pale.”

Without waiting for further permission, Caro made her way to her cabin, where she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Instead of returning above deck, though, she sank listlessly onto the bunk, her thoughts still in turmoil as she debated what course she should take.

The quiet rap on the door surprised her. Expecting Isabella, she bid entrance, only to give a start when Max appeared.

She felt a jolt like lightning spear through her body at his unexpected presence.

When he stepped into the cabin and shut the door behind him, his powerful form seemed to take up the small space. And his intense blue eyes swept over her face in a way that made her pulse falter. She couldn’t look away.

“What…do you want?” Caro asked, her voice uneven.

“What do you think?”

He stood there as if drinking in the sight of her. After a moment, he moved across the cabin and drew her into his arms.

Caro’s heart lodged in her throat at the expression in his eyes—despair, anger, tenderness, all warring in the blue depths.

He stared at her another long moment, clenching his jaw as if striving for control. Finally he cursed and bent his head, as if he couldn’t help himself.

His kiss was fierce. Scalding. His mouth on hers, hard and hot and compelling.

Her breath fled at the raw surge of longing that tore though her. The thrust of his tongue was so deep, so urgent, she forgot all her questions, all her uncertainty, all her torment. The well of hunger she’d suppressed for days returned in full force, excitement replacing lethargy. She throbbed with the need to taste Max, to feel his heat, and she knew he felt the same way.

Her fingers clenched in his hair, trying to draw his mouth closer, but Max required no encouragement. His tongue plunged and stroked while his hands moved to cover her breasts. Desire instantly engorged her nipples, and she arched against his touch. She was gasping when he broke off his kiss and his mouth moved lower, to her throat.

“I’ve been dying to hold you like this,” he rasped against her throat. “To touch you like this.”

She had been dying, too. She needed his passion. Needed to celebrate the sweetness of life, the triumph of victory over danger.

His lips set her aflame, even as she felt cool air rush over her sensitized skin. When she realized he was undressing her, Caro murmured his name and pushed at the lapels of his coat, trying to aid him.