Dawn of Valor (9 page)

“Now you’re accusing me of being a lecher,” Chase complained good-naturedly, meeting and holding her lovely eyes that sparkled with accusation.

Rachel propelled him forward, surprised that he wasn’t leaning as heavily on her as before. Perhaps tomorrow Chase could walk on his own. “I haven’t met a fly-boy yet that wasn’t a groper, Captain,” she returned evenly. “Even when they’re wounded and just coming out of anesthesia, they’re reaching for you.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest. They would have to stop talking soon, and Chase didn’t want to. “Can’t blame the guys. You’re a beautiful and desirable lady.”

Ordinarily Rachel could handle such a compliment, but when it came from Chase, her womanly instincts responded differently, scaring and beckoning to her at the same time. “You’re probably the biggest groper of them all,” she muttered.

He smiled down at her but said nothing.

Heat spread through Rachel, and she drowned in his very male smile. Suddenly Chase seemed dangerous—almost more dangerous than the enemy they were trying to evade. Rachel dodged his conceited gaze, keeping her eyes on the rocky terrain ahead of them.

Chapter Five

“I
’ve got to rest,” Rachel groaned. She felt Chase halt immediately. His hand cupped her shoulder and he drew her against him, allowing her to relax. The gesture was simple and implicit: Rachel was to lean on him, if only for a moment. The darkness was serrated by thickening clouds, pregnant with rain, thin slices of a quarter moon shafting through the ragged ceiling here and there.

Unresisting, Rachel buried her face in the folds of Chase’s flight suit, allowing him to take her weight. They had traveled through the valley, drunk their fill of water and moved on down into the next valley. Progress was good because the moonlight had allowed just enough light to see their way, without exposing them to the eyes of possible enemy patrols.

Chase pressed his bearded cheek against Rachel’s head, inhaling the scent of her, branding on his senses the memory of how the sleekness of her hair felt. “Come on, let’s call it a night.” He looked at his watch: it was midnight. Throughout the evening, his eyesight had improved. His headache no longer blinded him with pain, and most of the dizziness had disappeared.

Rachel knew she should push away from Chase. It wasn’t proper. But every muscle in her body was protesting fatigue, and right now Chase felt far more powerful and capable than she did. Finally Rachel forced herself to move away from him. To have Chase hold her while she fell asleep would be a dream come true. Ashamed of her torrid thoughts, Rachel chastised herself.

Her stomach grumbling loudly, she followed Chase to a small cave carved into the hillside. After throwing several stones into the maw with no response from within, he gestured for her to follow him.

The cave was smaller and narrower than the previous night’s haven. Rachel eyed it apprehensively. There was barely enough room for two people—unless they huddled against each other. Rachel didn’t want that. She didn’t trust herself or Chase.

“Isn’t this too small?” Her voice seemed thin and scratchy even to her own ears.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Chase craned his neck, studying the dark terrain below them in the valley. “Any closer to that village and we risk being detected.” He motioned to the hole. “I’m afraid this is it for the night.”

Panic ate at her. “But—it’s so small.”

Chase heard her strident protest. “Rachel, I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise you.” He held her uncertain gaze. Right now, she seemed more little girl than woman. Could he blame her? “Are you engaged?”

Her eyes widened. “No. Why?” And then she realized why he was asking the question, feeling stupid that she hadn’t figured it out sooner.

“Women who are about to get married usually aren’t so naive,” he muttered.

Rachel stood openmouthed, stunned by the inference. “Captain, I may be green as grass, but I’ve been around men long enough to know a few things!”

He grinned lopsidedly at her heated response, watching a flush suffuse her cheeks. “Calm down, Rachel. I wasn’t attacking your chastity. You’re jumpy, that’s all. I was just trying to figure out if you didn’t trust me out of ignorance or out of knowledge.”

Stung, she glared at him. “Just because guys mess around all the time before marriage doesn’t mean we do. And just because I’m ‘ignorant’ doesn’t mean I’m stupid about these matters. That cave is too small. The only way we could fit into it is if we scooted up against each other. And I’m not about to do that!”

Chase swallowed his grin, realizing she’d fly into more of a rage if she saw his response. She was frightened. Of him? Of herself, possibly? He wasn’t sure. And it was obvious he couldn’t ask her. Rachel resented the unvarnished truth when it came to sex, but that wasn’t her fault. It was a man’s duty to protect a woman from that side of life.

“Okay,” he muttered, “I’ll sleep out here and you sleep in the cave.”

In a quandary, Rachel searched for a way out of the unexpected problem. “I’m starved. I can smell food coming from that village. I saw a few cooking pots outside some of the huts. Maybe I can steal down there and get us some food.” The plan gave her time to figure out sleeping arrangements.

Chase’s eyes rounded. “You aren’t going down there.” His order came out in a strangled sound, laced with fury.

Jamming her hands on her hips, Rachel gave Chase a black stare. “There’s no water nearby. No mussels. We can’t possibly continue tomorrow without finding something to eat tonight.”

Chase rankled at her logic. He advanced upon her, gripping her proudly thrown-back shoulders. “Listen to me, you stuck your neck out once today and got lucky. You go down there—” he thrust a finger in the direction of the village “—and you could get caught. Use your head, Rachel.”

With a little cry of frustration, Rachel pulled from his grasp, taking several steps backward. “Lucky? What I did today wasn’t luck! It was a premeditated plan that I pulled off successfully.” She shook her head, completely disgusted. “And I suppose
you’re
going down there to get us food?”

“I wouldn’t even consider it,” Chase ground out. “It’s too risky.”

“I’m starved,” Rachel flung back hotly. “Forget it, Chase, I’m going.”

“You’re such a hellion,” he snarled. “You won’t listen to anybody!”

She compressed her lips, wildly aware of his concern. Rachel knew the real reason she wanted to go—to avoid the cave and Chase’s arms. But how could she admit that? Right now, he looked like an enraged bull ready to take a china shop apart. Memory of his strong fingers searching, gliding down her spine, eliciting shivers of need from her, frightened Rachel into action.

“I’m going. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Chase opened his mouth to protest, but Rachel turned and ran down the slope, disappearing among the huge boulders that stood sentry all around them. “Damn her,” he muttered, walking slowly toward the cave.

Later, after he’d cooled down, Chase tried to see Rachel, but the shadows deepened as the clouds became opaque, blocking out the moon’s gossamer light. Instead, Chase busied himself with grabbing large handfuls of dried grass to make a pallet in the cave. When he had enough, he stood listening. No sound came from the village, only the inconstant, humid breeze across the hills.

Rain would fall soon, he thought, gathering more dried grass for a second pallet outside the cave entrance. Did Rachel realize the Koreans had dogs in their villages? One bark would alert the people, and she would be discovered. Damn her! When she got back—if she got back—they were going to have a heart-to-heart talk about who was in charge and who wasn’t! She was such an independent wench. He admired her gutsiness and courage, but not her inability to listen to reason.

Rachel hesitated beside the last boulder, studying the village thoroughly. The moonlight was gone, leaving only darkness with vague shapes here and there. The thirty thatched huts were quiet, the people in bed. Hopefully, asleep. She flared her nostrils, drinking in a spicy scent of nearby food. Where?

Easing from her crouched position, she positioned herself at one end of the village. Near the door of the closest hut, Rachel saw a brazier with a black kettle suspended above the dying coals of a fire. Next to it was a big black dog with one ear missing. She froze as the dog’s one ear pricked up in interest, looking toward her.

Swallowing against a dry throat, Rachel tensed. She watched the dog, a mangy, thin mongrel the size of a German shepherd, get up and trot to where she was hiding. Groaning inwardly, she froze, waiting for the dog to howl out a warning.

To her surprise, the black dog didn’t bark. Wagging his tail, he approached. Rachel held out her hand, making sure to keep her fingers closed against her palm. Her mother had taught her as a child never to extend fingers to an animal—it was a sure way to lose them. Besides, the animal was less likely to try to bite into a much larger fist.

Expecting the dog to growl or bite, Rachel held her breath, speaking softly to him. Relief fled through her when he relished her hand with his thick, warm tongue. Closing her eyes, Rachel felt her heart bang violently against her throat. The dog nudged closer, burying his head against her breast, his tail wagging furiously. In that instant, she was reminded of Chase, of his ability to show his feelings, something many men couldn’t do. They shared something special, Rachel realized, patting the dog absently. And Chase seemed to know what it was, even if she didn’t.

Rising slowly, Rachel focused on stealing the kettle that contained the food. The dog stayed at her thigh, happy to escort her down the slope toward the hut. The area was quiet and deserted, wind whipping leaves and other debris across the center of the village.

What if someone woke? There had to be other dogs. What if they barked? Rachel planned alternate escape routes in case a villager appeared. Her mouth grew dry as she stepped onto the level, well-swept ground. The kettle was a large iron pot, the aroma coming from it mouth watering. The dog surged ahead of her as two of his friends appeared from around a hut near the center of the village.

Rachel froze. She saw the hackles rise on the backs of the other two dogs. If they barked… The black dog touched their noses, as if telling them she was a friend. All three of them came back, circling her, brushing against her legs, begging to be petted. Rachel patted them, her gaze nervously perusing the community.
What a situation…
Chase would probably shake his head if he saw that she’d made friends with the guardians of the village. He was probably waiting on the hillside, wondering when the barking would wake the occupants.

Chase sat at the lip of the cave, arms dangling between his legs. The moment he heard a sound, he was on his feet, hiding behind a large boulder.

“It’s me….”

Recognizing Rachel’s husky voice, he straightened.

“And my friends…”

Scowling, he stepped from behind the boulder. She was coming up the hill with three dogs at her heels. Maybe he should have laughed, but Chase didn’t feel amused, only relieved. Rachel was grinning broadly, carrying the kettle in triumph.

“Chow’s on,” she huffed, coming up to him.

He took the handle of the kettle. “You didn’t wake anyone?” he growled. Chase chastised himself for the anger in his tone. He saw the smile dissolve on her strained features.

“No, of course not.” Rachel gestured around to the dogs. “They’re from the village. I guess they think they’re going to get the leftovers after we’ve eaten our fill.”

Glowering at the animals, Chase saw the black dog’s hackles rise. “Pet the bastard before he starts barking at me,” he ordered tightly, grabbing the kettle and heading back to the cave entrance.

“It’s okay,” Rachel soothed the black dog, smoothing down his hackles. Holding on to her anger over Chase’s sulky nature, she followed him to the grass pallet near the cave. The dogs hung back at a respectful distance, as if taught not to get too close to the dinner table. Rachel crouched down opposite Chase, motioning to the pot.

“I smell meat and rice. Look how much is in there.”

The pride in her voice was unmistakable. Chase frowned and dipped his fingers into the unknown mixture. He drew out a glob, smelling it cautiously. “Smells okay,” he grumbled.

Rachel used her fingers, taking out a small portion. “Smells wonderful!” And then she grinned. “Anything’s better than slimy mussels.”

Her spirit was irresistible, and Chase managed a sour smile, tasting the fare. “Good…”

Good?
Rachel ate the first bite, savoring the spicy fare with hungry relish. It was a combination of cabbage, rice and meat—and it was delicious. They both ate in starved silence, dipping their fingers into the pot again and again. Her eyes watered from the spices in the mixture. Rachel was sure hot peppers figured in the recipe, but it didn’t matter.

Stuffed like a Christmas goose, Rachel took the tin can from the back of her belt, filling it with food. She covered it with a piece of silk. Chase gave a nod, approving of her idea. He pulled the first aid kit from his pocket, emptying the contents into another pocket. He handed the box to her.

“Fill this, too. We don’t know when we’ll get another meal.”

Rachel agreed, stuffing the plastic box full of the food. She got up afterward, gripping the kettle handle. “I’m taking this back down to the village where it belongs.”

“Why?” Chase wondered if she had a death wish.

“Because,” Rachel explained patiently, “tomorrow morning they’ll think the dogs got into the food, not us. If they knew we were here, they might call the soldiers. It’s a dead giveaway that we were in the area, Chase.”

He rubbed his brow. What the hell was the matter with him? Of course Rachel was right. “I think this concussion is really fouling me up,” he muttered in apology.

“I understand,” Rachel responded softly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Chase snapped his head up. Silhouetted in the darkness, he could barely make out her features. “Take these mutts with you. We don’t need them following us.”