Dawn of Valor (6 page)

“Oh, dear…” She removed her hand from Chase’s shoulder.

Chase heard anxiety in Rachel’s voice. It surprised him, because she appeared completely self-sufficient and in command, even if she was headed in the wrong direction. “You got any Irish blood in you?”

She managed a grimace. “Yes. Does it show?”

He melted beneath her softening features. Maybe Rachel McKenzie wasn’t a cold, efficient machine after all. Chase rallied, trying to smile for her benefit, but it turned into a line of pain. “You don’t have red hair, but you’ve sure got spirit.”

His attempt at a smile buoyed her gloomy mood. Suddenly Rachel felt shaky inside. The feeling was new to her, and it left her confused. “Come on, we’ve got to get going,” she whispered in a strained tone.

The feeling in the pit of her stomach worsened by the minute as she thought about how far away Chase said their lines were. Rachel kept swallowing, feeling a lump form in her throat as she pulled, tugged and supported Chase Trayhern up and over the last hill leading out of the valley. Half an hour later Rachel stared at the country before them.

The wind was whipping through the restricted pass, and she looked into it, blinking, to see what lay ahead. The land was even more rocky and steep than what they’d come through. Scrawny trees dotted the harsh, dehydrated landscape. Rachel tried to ignore the continued unsettled feeling within her and study the region. As far as she could see, hundreds of caves appeared as dark holes carved into the hills. The sun was dipping into the west, and she squinted against it.

“Caves,” she told Chase, keeping her grip firm around his large waist.

“Good. We should find one large enough to hide in for the night,” he muttered. Every step increased his pain. Chase wanted nothing more than to stop and sleep.

Licking her dry lips, Rachel took a firmer grip on his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, Captain, I see a possible candidate for us. We have to get down off this hill. We’re sitting ducks.”

“Suits me,” he growled, forcing himself to pick up each booted foot and place it squarely in front of him.

“How’s your head?”

“Worse than any curse words you’ve ever heard.”

“And probably worse than any cuss word you could concoct, Captain.” She swallowed hard, the nausea stalking her in earnest. What was wrong with her?

Chase hurt too much to speak, each sound magnifying a hundredfold inside his head. He gritted his teeth, leaning heavily on Rachel.

The first cave at the bottom of the hill fit the bill in Rachel’s estimation. It was barely five feet high but was almost ten feet in length, able to accommodate and hide two people. After throwing a few rocks into it to check for animals, Rachel helped Chase get inside. The floor consisted of smooth stone and powdery dust. She made sure he was well hidden, by the shadows, from possible patrols that might investigate the surrounding hills. The roof of the cave allowed her to crawl around on her hands and knees, but not to stand.

To Rachel’s utter delight, there was a pool of water in the rear and a small stream that disappeared into the rock wall. Chase lay down, using his arm as a pillow for his head.

Her nausea was becoming nearly unbearable. Rachel felt as if she had stomach flu and hurried out of the cave without explanation.

Chase scowled, watching her brush by him. What was wrong with Rachel? He propped himself up, following her progress out of the mouth of the cave. She was pale, her eyes dark. Before Chase could speak, to tell her to be careful and watchful of possible enemy patrols, she crawled the last few feet to the dry grass in front of the cave. The sounds of retching followed. If he hadn’t felt so damned faint, Chase would have gotten up and gone to help her. Feeling helpless, he had no choice but to lie back down.

He waited, keying his hearing to her return. It was a long time, and Chase fretted inwardly. Patrols would be out looking for them. The longer she stayed outside, the greater the chance of being spotted. Finally he heard Rachel enter the cave. He opened his eyes, pushing himself up on one elbow.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

Rachel held his narrowed, demanding look. “I—yes.” There was a tremble in her voice. And her hands were shaking. She had gathered an armful of dried grass to make a pallet for Chase. Actually Rachel had spent the time alone trying to control all her escaping emotions. Pulling the huge swatches of grass had helped calm her nerves. “I threw up,” she admitted, embarrassed. “I don’t know why.”

“Welcome to combat,” Chase muttered. Her face was drawn, her eyes bleak. She winced at his blunt statement. “Throwing up is one of many reactions,” he explained, trying to soften his tone.

Relief jagged through Rachel and she held the grass a little tighter, needing something that symbolized stability. “It is?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know….” Her voice trailed off, absorbed by the wall of rock.

“How could you? It isn’t every day your unit gets overrun by North Koreans and you get captured.” Chase held her tenuous gaze, finding her features utterly vulnerable now. All the bravado Rachel had displayed earlier dissolved under the realization of what had happened to her over the past twelve hours. Delayed reaction to the mortar shelling, capture and escape had caught up with her, Chase realized. He patted the floor beside him.

“Listen, come and lie down for a while. You need to rest. This has been one hell of a day for you.”

The invitation sounded wonderful. “I—I am tired.” Exhausted would be a more appropriate word. Rachel saw Chase give her a tender smile, and it sent a sheet of warmth through her cold, trembling body.

“Come on,” he urged. “I may be a miserable bastard with a blinding headache, but I won’t bite you. Lie close, it’s cold in this place.”

Nodding, Rachel crawled forward. “I can give you the grass—”

“You use it. Come on, think of yourself for once.” He noted that her long, expressive fingers were white. The amount of fear she must be feeling was overwhelming her. Chase took some of the proffered grass, spreading it out thinly across the surface.

Rachel gave him a grateful look and lay down, her back toward him. She used her arm as a pillow as he had. “Thank you,” she whispered. Even now, tremors ran through her, and she drew her knees upward, wanting to retreat into a fetal position.

Lying there in the silence, Chase listened to her choppy, uneven breathing. He wanted to reach over and pull her close to him, but he didn’t dare. They were strangers. He was a man and she was a woman. If he tried it, she’d probably be shocked and properly outraged. Fighting the desire to drag her against him, to share body heat and help her up and over the combat reaction, Chase glared out into the gray dusk.

“When I shot down my first MiG, I landed and promptly threw up in the cockpit of my plane,” he began in a roughened tone. “My mechanic, Sergeant Owens, came over and shoved the canopy back and looked at me. He’s an older fella, and must have at least fifteen years in the service.”

Chase’s voice washed across her like a warming blanket, soothing the ragged edges of her composure. “W-what did he say?” she asked in a strained voice.

“Slapped me on the back and congratulated me.” Chase closed his eyes. “He said, ‘Welcome to combat, Lieutenant. Some men heave their guts out. Others have bad dreams. Some cry. That’s the way it is, sir.’ A real short, succinct lesson about war, isn’t it?”

A whisper of torn breath escaped from Rachel. “Yes. My stomach was upset for a long time. I thought I was getting the flu.”

The ebony tresses lay sleekly against her shoulders and neck. Chase had a wild desire to reach out, thread his fingers through that beautiful, tangled mass and comfort her. Tearing his thoughts and desires from Rachel, he muttered, “No one said combat was fun. It’s hell. A very personal hell.”

Sliding her arm against her grumbling stomach, Rachel asked, “Does this feeling ever go away?”

“Yeah, if you go to sleep, you’ll feel partly human when you wake up.” His brows drew downward. “But I can’t vouch for the memories or the fear. They hang around a lot longer.”

Closing her eyes tightly, Rachel admitted, “I’m scared to death, Captain. I didn’t realize it until I threw up. I was so busy making sure we weren’t seen and taking care of you, all those emotions just got shoved down inside me for a while.”

“Call me Chase. And I’m scared, too. Fear’s a healthy thing. It’ll keep us alive and get us out of this mess.”

The desire to turn over and crawl into his arms was overwhelming. Rachel’s eyes widened at the yearning deep within her. Chase had a rough timbre to his voice, and this time it was filled with incredible tenderness. Realizing he wasn’t an ogre all the time took another layer of weight off Rachel’s shoulders.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. “I’m so tired, Chase. I’ve got to sleep….”

“Then do it. We shouldn’t both sleep. One of us needs to stand guard. I’ll wake you up in four hours and then you can take the watch.”

He was right, Rachel realized with a jolt. They were in enemy territory with no promise of getting back to their lines or getting out of this alive. She wrestled with the fear again, everything foreign to her. “Four hours,” she repeated tiredly. And within moments, she spiraled into a dreamless sleep.

Rachel awoke with a jerk. Sunlight was streaming across the valley outside the cave, striking the withered ocher landscape. Heart pounding, she sat up, looking to her right. Chase was snoring softly, asleep. Fear stabbed through her. He hadn’t awakened her in four hours. When had he fallen asleep? The possibility of the enemy finding them while they both slept was great.

Crawling to the mouth of the cave, Rachel flattened out on her stomach, perusing the windswept terrain. A few birds were singing, but she saw no other sign of life. Relief rolled through her and she got up, moving back to where Chase lay.

Without thinking, Rachel smoothed several limp strands of his hair away from his bandaged forehead. In those velvet moments, her heart blossomed with an incredible array of feelings as she gazed down at his face. Even in sleep, Chase’s brow was slightly furrowed with pain. His mouth sent unbidden desire through Rachel and she stared at it, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his masculine strength.

Right now, Chase looked almost boyish. The rumpled strands of his hair, although short, added to his look of vulnerability. His antagonism stemmed, Rachel was sure, from being wounded and in pain. The shape of his mouth told her he wasn’t always a grouch. No, his mouth promised strength coupled with great tenderness. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder as she drank Chase into her mind and heart.

The night before, Rachel had been on the receiving end of his tenderness and care. Chase hadn’t had to share the story of his first combat experience with her or admit he’d been sick afterward. Despite his masculine stance toward women in general, he had been sensitive enough, concerned enough, to overcome his considerable male pride and share something of value between them.

“You’re something else, mister,” Rachel whispered. “Something else…” She couldn’t compare Chase to any man in her experience. Of course, over the years, men had made passes at her, even stolen kisses. Rachel had been taught that the gift of herself was to be saved for marriage and her husband. Therefore, the groping hands of a number of boyfriends had been turned aside with studied insistence.

Looking at Chase, Rachel wondered if her resolve was strong enough. There was an intense sensuality to his mouth, to his whole body! She ached to spread her hand across his massive chest and explore it, not as a nurse, but as a woman. Sure, she knew the names of the bones and muscles. But Chase beckoned and stirred fires that lay beneath medical expertise.

Stymied by the new, unexpected feelings, Rachel closed her eyes. She had to think. She had to separate her emotions toward Chase and be clear about their escape effort. Because of the severity of his head wound, he wasn’t capable of staying awake at night. She would have to be their eyes and ears, catching quick naps during the day in order to stay awake at night to protect them.

Her stomach growled loudly, and Rachel pressed her hand against the region. She was starved. The stream in the rear gave her an idea, and she moved quietly out of the cave and into the sunlight. Chase was sleeping soundly. Let him. At least one of them would wake up in a good humor.

Chase blinked, the light hurting his eyes. It took several minutes to realize where he was. His mind wasn’t functioning very well at all, the pain a constant sledgehammer within his head. Grunting, he rolled over onto his side. Where was Rachel?

His mouth was thick and gummy, a croak coming out instead of her name. Dizziness assailed him briefly as he sat up. Rubbing his hand across his jaw, he realized belatedly that he needed to shave, the bristles sharp against his palm. His eyes adjusting to the sunlight, he looked around the silent maw.

Where the hell was Rachel! Dammit, didn’t she realize the enemy was close? Where was she? Out powdering her nose? His anger rose with the incessant pain in his skull. Thirsty, he slowly got to his hands and knees, working his way back to the stream, drinking his fill.

Chase realized with renewed grimness that he was in no state to travel by himself. Just that small amount of crawling to and from his grass pallet had proven that. That would mean another day of leaning on Rachel, depending on a woman. He frowned, drawing up his legs and resting his brow against his knees. Good thing she couldn’t read minds; she’d surely get her back up over that last thought.

Why did her independence and lack of need to lean on a man bother him so much? He barely knew her. They weren’t engaged. Matter of fact, there was nothing between them. In his mind’s eye, Chase pictured her natural grace, the way her hips swung freely from side to side and the defiant way she held her chin, just daring someone to challenge her.

A grin leaked through his tightly set lips. What a beautiful hellion she was. He’d like to tame her, watch her defiance melt into cries of pleasure. Would her eyes deepen in color, a velvety green to match the richness of fulfillment he would give to her? Or would they lighten in color, like sunlight splashed across the surface of a lake?