Twist of Fate (15 page)

“What's Dear Roddy have to say about all this?”

Hannah read a little further. “Apparently he was inclined to take a condescending attitude. Aunt Elizabeth gave him a detailed analysis of her findings and he just sort of patted her on the head and told her she was a bright girl. He's lucky she didn't kick him in the balls.”

Gideon winced. “That's not a very feminine thing to say.”

“My vocabulary isn't limited to just feminine words.” Hannah read further. “Her basic conclusion is that the women's language is richer and is used to express whole concepts and emotions that the men can't understand. Here's the bottom line, though. The paper she wrote on the subject was accepted for publication. Dear Roddy's was not. Hah! Take that, Dear Roddy.”

“The question is, was your aunt sleeping with him or not?”

“If she was, apparently he wasn't good enough in bed to change her mind about her research findings.” Hannah closed the journal. “Darn. This is interesting, of course, especially if I can ever find out exactly who Dear Roddy was. Wouldn't it be great if he's now some honcho in the anthro world?”

“Revealing a leading academic's past indiscretions with your famous aunt might make for some of the sleaze you want,” Gideon agreed musingly. “Probably would have more snap, though, if you could work the lesbian angle. A bit more shocking.”

“I know. Well, we'll just have to wait and see what happens.” Hannah scanned the row of thin black books. “No telling what other interesting tidbits are buried in these journals.”

Gideon studied her quietly, the wry humor disappearing from his expression. “You're really starting to think seriously about writing that book, aren't you?”

“Yes,” Hannah said simply. “I am.”

“Out of a desire to get even with Vicky Armitage?”

Unconsciously Hannah fingered the pendant around her neck. “It's more than that, Gideon. Maybe I want to prove something to myself.”

“Prove what? That you could have made it in anthropology if you'd wanted to go that route? Writing the book won't prove it. You've said yourself, it's not exactly going to carry the weight of anthropological expertise. You're going for titillation and controversy, remember? You might sell a million copies but the academic world will probably still tear it apart and hang it up to dry.”

“Let 'em.” Hannah's mouth curved. “Whatever else they do, they won't be able to ignore it. My aunt would have loved it.”

Gideon set down his glass, clasping his hands between his knees. “What's the book going to do for you, Hannah?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

“If you're going to step into the ring, you need to have your goals very clearly in mind. You need to know how far you'll go, how much punishment you can take, and whom you're willing to kill to get where you want to be. Most of all you have to know where you want to be.”

“Is that a warning from an expert?” she asked calmly.

“Just thought I'd try my hand at a little guidance counseling.” His mouth crooked wryly but his gaze remained serious. “How am I doing?”

“I'm more accustomed to giving advice than I am to taking it.”

“I'm not used to taking advice, either. Maybe that's why I was so rough on you this afternoon. I'm sorry, Hannah.”

“I know. I figured you were when you decided to take me to dinner. It was your way of apologizing.”

“Still think you can read me like a book?”

“I'm getting more and more pieces of the puzzle together every day,” she assured him.

“Come here, Hannah.” He held out his big hands with slow, sensual intent. “I'll give you something else to add to the total picture.”

She didn't move but she felt the ready stirring of desire deep in her body. “You find this so easy, don't you?”

“Making love to you? Easiest thing I've ever done.”

“Because I'm a pushover?”

“No.” He shook his head once. “Because it feels so right. You fit me like a warm glove, Hannah.”

“I'm comfortable then? I'm not sure that's any more impressive than being a pushover.”

“Now who's spoiling for a fight?”

He came off the sofa in a smooth motion, bearing Hannah down until she was lying beneath him on the floor. She looked up at him, aware of the heat in his eyes and the heavy weight of him sprawled along the length of her body.

“This wasn't quite the fight I had in mind,” she whispered, eyes languid with the need he brought forth so effortlessly.

“Yes, it is. I can feel it in you.” He lowered his head to her mouth, his hand closing over her breast. “And I like the feel of it.” His tongue slipped easily between her lips.

Through the thin material of the oversize fatigue shirt she wore, Hannah felt her nipple tightening under his palm. She whispered Gideon's name far back in her throat. He pushed his way between her thighs in response, urging himself against her softness. She was vividly aware of the heat in him, even though they were both still fully dressed.

Gideon sighed in satisfaction as he felt Hannah softening beneath him. Like the sea she gave way when he pushed against her and then closed around him like liquid silk. He wondered if he could ever get enough of her. Deliberately he closed his mind to the fact that there were only four days left on Santa Inez. There was still too much to learn, too much to explore, too much to experience with this woman. With Hannah he felt new and revitalized. Going to bed with her was the greatest refreshment he had ever known. She would make him shudder with his need and afterward he knew he would be satiated, thoroughly content for a timeless interlude.

But the best part of all was listening to the way she breathed his name when she trembled with her own satisfaction. Gideon decided he would never in a million years grow tired of his name on her lips. Her responsiveness was a feast at which he could dine again and again.

He slipped open the buttons of her shirt. When he moved his hand inside to cup her breast his fingers brushed against the pendant. It was a cold, hard, worthless stone. He wondered what she saw in it. Then he forgot about the jewelry as his hand found a budding nipple. This was definitely not cold or worthless but there was a decided hardness to it that intrigued him enormously. Hungrily, Gideon bent to taste the firm peak.

Hannah's fingers clenched in his hair as he made the contact.

“Ah, Gideon.
Gideon!
”

“It's coming, honey. There's no rush.”

“I'm in a rush,” she complained, lifting herself achingly against him.

“Are you?” He reached down to unfasten the snap of her jeans and then he slid his fingers through the curling nest that shielded the tight, sensitive bud. “Then I'll give you a little something to tide you over until the main meal.”

She gasped and twisted her hips as he began to stroke. Her fingertips tightened again in his hair and then slipped down to his shoulders.

When he used both hands to slide the jeans off completely she started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. Laughing softly he caught her hands.

“Not yet. We're going to give you an appetizer first, remember?” Cupping her buttocks in his hands he went lower, seeking with his mouth the hot, fluid heart of her passion.

“Gideon!” His name was a soft scream of excitement and wonder. “Oh, my God, Gideon.”

His fingers sank into her skin. “Don't fight it. Let it happen. Just let go. I want to feel you when it hits.” The insides of her thighs were so warm, so very soft. The scent of her was filling his head, driving him half crazy with wanting.

Hannah tightened. He sensed the quickening tension, knew she was on the edge of release. Gideon deepened the intimate kiss and suddenly she was trembling in his grasp. The ripples of fulfillment moved through her like rain over the ocean. Gideon drank in her satisfaction as if it were his own.

“Gideon, I wanted to wait. I wanted to be with you when it happened.” Hannah's protests were uttered before the gentle convulsions had faded. There was a wistfulness in her words.

Gideon moved up her body, eyes gleaming with anticipation. His mouth closed over hers, letting her taste herself on his lips.

“Now we'll go for the main meal.” He saw the pleased astonishment in her eyes as he fit his body to hers and thrust forward. He entered her to the hilt and felt her fiercely feminine reaction.

“I don't think I can. Not so soon after. But I'd love it if you went ahead and had your wicked way with me,” she murmured dreamily.

“Don't worry, you'll be there with me the next time. You've got all kinds of hidden talent.”

T
HE DAWNING SUN
seemed to fill the room with a light that was almost too clear, too fresh and new. The crimson frangipani that always appeared to be trying to grow through the louvers of the window could have been part of a painting. Acrylics or oils, Hannah decided. The red was too strong to capture with watercolors. The island had a way of making one think of trying one's hand at painting. For the first time in her life she was tempted to buy a brush and some paints and find out if she had any ability in that direction. Waste of time. She knew her own assets and abilities and art wasn't on the list.

Hannah lay still for a moment, blinking into wakefulness. Beside her Gideon slept in a magnificent sprawl that covered more than half the bed.

Turning carefully onto her side and bracing herself on her elbow Hannah looked at the man who, in the manner of a conquering army, occupied the bed. In the brilliant light he, too, was much too vivid and intense to catch with watercolors. The white sheet was twisted around one muscular leg. His other foot hung off the edge of the bed. Gideon lay on his stomach, his head turned away from her. The darkness of his hair was a harsh contrast to the pillow. Even in sleep the powerful contours of his shoulders spelled out the internal force in the man.

Hannah thought about the driving energy and will that motivated Gideon and wondered why he had followed her first to Seattle and then to Santa Inez. She was willing to bet this was the first time in his life he had let himself be distracted so completely while business was pressing. She didn't know whether to be flattered or wary. A little of both, perhaps.

It couldn't last, of course. She knew that. This week in paradise was a stolen one. She had resigned herself to that almost from the beginning, even though a part of her hadn't fully accepted the inevitable.

Gently Hannah pushed back the sheet. The brilliant light and her thoughts were making her restless. She felt strangely edgy. Naked except for the pendant, which she had forgotten to remove before going to bed, she walked to the window. Through the grove of palms that sheltered the cove she could see the hard, white light on the sea. Suddenly Hannah knew what she needed to work off this uneasy restlessness.

Gideon was still sound asleep as she slipped from the room with her swimsuit in hand. She dressed in the front room, slung a towel over her shoulder and opened the double doors to step out into the early morning light.

The small beach was extraordinarily pristine today, clean and white and untouched. The arm of the cove framed water that was too clear, almost unreal. Dropping the towel, Hannah waded into the sea.

This was the fourth day of her vacation. Hannah floated on her back and thought about what she would be doing this time next week. Gideon would be in Tucson. Would he call? She knew he wouldn't write. Men as busy as Gideon didn't write. The truth was that she would probably never see him again.

Hannah turned over and started stroking slowly toward the mouth of the cove. She had her own life to live and the odds were against Gideon ever being a permanent part of it. Unless he changed, no woman would ever be a permanent part of his life. He probably would never even notice what he'd missed.

Gideon wasn't unique. Aunt Elizabeth hadn't missed Dear Roddy apparently. There was no mention of him in her later notes. It would be fascinating to trace his story through the private journals. It occurred to Hannah that in some ways Gideon and Elizabeth Nord were alike. Both had achieved a large measure of personal power in the worlds they chose to occupy. Both seemed content to go through life alone.

It wasn't just that they were independent, Hannah decided as she tried to analyze the two people who had never met. Hannah, herself, was independent. She had been reasonably content with her career and her friends and her life-style. No, it was something else. There was something qualitatively different about the kind of aloneness characteristic of both her aunt and Gideon.

Hannah stopped swimming and treaded water as she stared out to sea. The dazzle of the light on the shifting water was almost blinding now. It hurt her eyes to look at it. She turned her head to study the rocky outthrust that formed one arm of the cove. Her eyes began to recover from the glare, and the jumble of granite, dark from sea spray, came into focus.

Focus. That was part of the key. Gideon and Elizabeth Nord had both been incredibly focused. Victoria Armitage was also focused, for that matter. And all three of them gave the impression they could, by and large, do without others in their lives. When they did have others around them, they tended to use them. There was no doubt in Hannah's mind that Vicky used Drake. There was also no doubt that Gideon was capable of using anyone who got in his way. There was no telling whom Nord might have used over the years. They were people who commanded vast reserves of ability and strength and they channeled all of it toward their respective goals.

What was it Gideon had said the night before? If she were going to step into the ring she needed to know exactly where she was headed and how much she was willing to sacrifice to get there. He'd put it more bluntly than that. He'd said she had to know whom she was willing to kill to get where she wanted to be. Most of all she had to know where she wanted to be.

Hannah groaned ruefully. It was ludicrous to remember how she had advised Gideon to add some balance to his life by resurrecting his old interest in maps. People such as Elizabeth Nord and Victoria Armitage and Gideon Cage didn't need or want balance in their lives. They had no room for it. All their energy was focused on their private goals. Perhaps they were the lucky ones. They didn't know or care about what they might be missing. For them, nothing was missing.

If she had stayed on the road to her Ph.D., would she have found that kind of personal strength and completeness? Hannah wondered. Thinking of the man still asleep in her bed, she decided for the first time that a part of her envied him. He didn't need her, except in a fleeting, physical sense. But she could so easily get to the point of needing him and her need would go far beyond the physical.

With the envy came resentment, and her general feeling of restlessness increased. Arching, she dove deep into the water and then surfaced, swimming strongly. Unconsciously she headed toward the mouth of the cove. There in the water her leg felt so much more normal. There was a slight weakness in her knee when she kicked, but her balance wasn't affected. Whatever else had happened on this trip to the Caribbean, it had had the desired effect on her physical recovery.

The touch of a hand on her ankle came just as Hannah was nearing the reef that guarded the cove's entrance from the sea. Gideon. He had awakened and come after her. Instinctively Hannah veered to the right, familiar now with the sensual game of water tag he liked to play.

But the fingers didn't fall away from her ankle. Instead, they gripped with sudden, totally unexpected fierceness. Startled, Hannah whipped around, her head just above the surface. Even as she told herself that Gideon must be submerged beneath the water, she realized that the man who had grabbed her ankle wasn't Gideon.

Her scream was short, cut off violently as the hand on her ankle dragged her back under the water. Panic lent strength to Hannah's thrashing attempts to free herself. The water churned and through the bubbles she could see the face of her attacker. He wore a diving mask and the top half of a black wet suit that covered his head. Hoses from the tank on his back fed into his mouth, giving him the appearance of some lethal visitor from another world. Relentlessly he stroked his fin-covered feet, pulling Hannah deeper.

Desperate fear gave Hannah the strength to resist for a painful moment. When she kicked out ruthlessly, trying for the mask or the hose, she gained her freedom for a few precious seconds. Long enough to surge to the surface and fill her lungs with air. It was a breath she didn't dare waste on a scream. The hand closed around her leg almost immediately and she needed every bit of air as she was hauled back under the water.

Some sense of lingering rationality warned Hannah that she stood no chance of simply pulling free of the lethal grip. This time when she was dragged beneath the waves she didn't even try. Instead she whirled under the water and reached out with both hands, trying to grab the mask or the hose. Her fingers caught the edge of the faceplate and she pried frantically. She must have loosened the seal because the man in the wet suit slashed at her arm and jerked his head aside. But she didn't succeed in breaking his grip on her leg.

As she struggled Hannah realized just how weak her injured leg still was. It was her strong leg that was caught in the viselike grip and the strength in the other leg was waning fast. Pain shot through her knee as she kicked again and again at her attacker's face. Pain was shooting through her lungs, too. The horror of drowning gave her another surge of adrenaline. She slapped at an air hose, twisting frantically to one side. Once more she managed to get her face above water long enough for one quick gulp. This time when she was yanked downward she knew she wasn't going to be allowed another chance.

They were near the edge of the reef. Hannah caught glimpses of a treacherous underwater world of sharp coral and dark recesses. Perhaps if she could get her hands on a piece of coral or rock she might have a weapon.

But her assailant seemed to be aware of the opportunities the reef might present. He pulled her steadily down toward the sandy bottom, using his free hand to fend off her weakening efforts to reach a vulnerable point. Hannah's lungs felt as though they were about to burst. She was going to die. In another few seconds she would be drowning. The agony in her knee was nothing compared to the fear and fury roaring in her veins. Damned if she would let her assailant escape without a mark. She curled inward, no longer resisting the relentless grip on her ankle.

Doubling over she drove herself into the wet-suited body, no longer caring what he did with his free hands. She felt a blow against her stomach and another on her face but the force of both was impeded by the water. Her fingers curved once more around the face mask and she yanked with all her strength.

For an instant her attacker's eyes locked with hers and she thought vaguely that his were blue.

And then, without any warning, she was free. Hannah had neither the strength nor the time left to assess what had happened. She kicked for the surface without a split second's hesitation. There was simply no air left in her lungs.

The sunlight above tantalized her with awesome cruelty as she fought to reach the surface. She wouldn't die this close to air. She couldn't. Desperately she kicked, clawing at the water as though it were a living thing that was trying to block her path.

It was as she broke through into sunlight and air that she sensed the lithe shape flash beneath her. For an instant she thought it might be a shark. Perhaps that was what had scared off her attacker. She floundered in the water, sucking air so deeply that she hurt in every corner of her body. If there were a shark in the cove it was her chance to make it to safety.

The water frothed behind her. She lunged for the rocks, fearful that the sea creature was turning on her instead of the man in the wet suit. She felt movement in the water and instinctively looked down.

There was a battle in progress but it was no shark tearing into her assailant. It was Gideon. Stunned, her breath still coming with a frantic heaving effort, she stared down through the crystal green water as Gideon's bare body flashed and curved around the black-suited man. Bubbles suddenly spilled from the regulator.

In an instant the attacker made his decision. He shot forward, the fins giving him a powerful advantage. He swam toward the reef and disappeared over the top of it even as Gideon surged to the surface beside Hannah. His face was stark and forbidding, his expression unlike any she had ever seen on him. For a dazed second she almost thought he was a shark.

“For Christ's sake, Hannah! What the hell…Come here. Just hold on and stop struggling. I've got you. Can you breathe all right?”

She tried to answer and coughed instead. She managed a weak nod as he caught hold of her, supporting her in the water. It was such a relief not to have to use the last of her energy just to stay afloat. Her arms went around his neck as she continued pulling air into her lungs in ragged gasps.

“Thought…you…were…a shark. Never been so glad to see a shark in my life.”

“Don't talk, honey. Just breathe. We're almost there.”

Gideon cut through the water, taking her to safety. A few minutes later Hannah felt him pause to find his footing. Then he scooped her up into his arms and carried her out onto the beach. She hung there against his chest, absorbing his strength as she tried to regain her own. He felt reassuringly solid. She clung to him with the same intensity she did when he was making love to her.

Carefully Gideon knelt on the sand, setting Hannah down on the towel she had left behind before entering the water. She lifted her head wearily, her relief making her light-headed.

“Your sense of timing is terrific,” she got out between short gasps for air. Her body was beginning to believe she was going to stay out of the water for a while. It was relaxing slightly, her breathing becoming more regular.

“My timing is shit. What happened out there?” He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes savage. “You scared the living hell out of me. Where did that jerk in the wet suit come from?”