Expedition of Love (2 page)

"My goodness. Does the man plan to dig up the whole country?"

Chuckling, he said, “Nearly. But as you well remember it's almost a two-week journey to Viedma. From there he's chartered a steamer to take us up the Rio Negro to Confluencia, and then travel for nearly half a day deeper into the frontier."

"My, he has quite an excursion planned."

"Just the sort of thing you adore. Come with me. It'll be just like the old days. Only this time I don't imagine I'll be tending scraped knees or arguing with you over your bedtime,” he said with a broad smile.

Kristina laughed as the pleasant memories flooded her thoughts. The excitement of the dig, the camaraderie with the team, the hard work, the dirt and grime, the cold, the heat, the bugs. Heaven.

But she wasn't exactly free to tag along after her father. She had a career of her own in photography, responsibilities involving the suffrage movement, meetings to attend and marches to organize. And more importantly, she suspected Doctor Baxter wouldn't welcome her presence. She was a woman, and women just didn't do the sort of things she loved to do.

"Have you discussed this with Doctor Baxter?” she asked.

"No. I wanted your answer first."

"Papa, he won't allow a woman to go."

"Well, we won't tell him.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. “I will tell him Kris Applegate, the budding new photographer the town's all talking about, is our new team member."

She playfully tugged at his beard. “Oh, you are a sneaky old codger."

"I have to be to keep up with you. So, what do you think? Would you like to go on one last adventure with this crusty old scientist?"

She sighed, looking at his hopeful face. This obviously meant a great deal to him. “I don't know, Papa. If I say yes, and I stress the
if
, do you promise not to play matchmaker?"

Edwin held up one hand with the palm out and placed the other over his heart. “I promise not to try and match you with any of the graduate students."

She chewed her lip as she considered his proposal. He looked more than just tired. She wasn't even sure he should be going, but he wanted to so badly. “Do you promise not to overdo it? Argentina can be a very harsh country."

"Define overdo."

"Papa,” she said warningly.

"All right, all right. I promise to recognize my limits. Does that make you happy, young lady?"

"Hmm. We'll see."

"Is that a yes?"

She thought a moment then smiled. “Yes, I'll go, but I'm not sure Doctor Baxter is going to appreciate my presence. I wouldn't be surprised if he sends me packing the moment he discovers I'm not a man."

Her father moved back behind his desk with a definite bounce in his step. “Don't worry about Stephen. I have no doubts that you shall win him over. You are quite the paleontologist yourself and will astonish him with your intelligence and talent with a camera."

Laughing, she shook her head.

He winked then settled himself back in his chair. “Now, you need to be ready to sail by the end of the week, so I suggest you hurry home and pack."

"This week? Papa, how long have you known about this?"

"A few months."

"And you waited until now to ask me?"

"You were always one for a challenge, Kris."

"A challenge, yes, the impossible, no. I haven't any of the necessary essentials, and cannot possibly be ready on time."

"Not to worry. I took the liberty of getting you a few things. You'll find it all in the study. You only need to pack clothes and your camera equipment. We'll be taking the Sweet Anita."

She smiled at her father's superior grin. “You were that sure I would go?"

"No. That hopeful."

Laughing, she kissed his withered cheek and left. She had a million things to do. Engagements to cancel, purchases to make, packing to see to, the list seemed endless, but the more her thoughts rambled through the tasks, the more excited she became. Her various excursions out west had kept her fit for camping in the wild, but rarely included fossil hunting, her greatest passion next to photography. Oh, it was going to be wonderful.

Well—almost. If only that stuffy old Baxter wasn't going. She did owe the entire trip to him, however, and the joy she had seen on her father's face. Baxter or no, it was going to be marvelous spending this special time with her father, and it was obvious he needed someone to keep an eye on him.

"Recognize his limits,” she said to herself. “Ha!” Professor Edwin Peterson would work as hard or harder than the graduate students.

She smiled. He would put them to shame with his determination and drive. Her smile faltered. If he didn't kill himself in the process.

Edwin stared at the door his daughter swept through with a bright smile on his face. He'd promised not to match her with any of the students, but he never said anything about a particular scientist.

He chuckled as he pulled his watch from his vest pocket, and looked at the small cameo of his wife. “It shan't be long now, Anita."

The chemistry was there. He'd seen it when Stephen and Kristina had been in the same room together during the various university functions. Of course, neither would ever admit it. He doubted Stephen had any idea how he watched Kristina's every move, even when he was in deep discussion about his work. And Edwin felt certain Kristina didn't realize how often she leaned toward Stephen and hung on his every word, the scientist in her finding him fascinating.

All those ridiculous escorts Edwin had arranged over the past months for Kris was just one way of showing her how right she and Stephen were for one another. Kristina needed a man who shared her interests but wouldn't stifle her vibrant spirit, and most importantly give her the one thing missing in her life.

Love.

He knew how she hid her unhappiness. Kristina changed the day his wife died. Somehow she acquired the odd notion that it was better to live without love than suffer the loss of love, and determinedly avoided serious relationships. Her fears drove her to fill her days with a multitude of activities and responsibilities. But his precocious little girl was now a strong, intelligent woman. A woman he admired greatly and who would make the perfect wife for his friend.

Ah yes, Stephen. The poor boy needed a woman who could bring him back to the land of the living. One who would understand and appreciate his work. He was as dead as the very fossils he studied. If anyone could breathe life into the pitiable young man, it was Kristina.

But Edwin didn't have much time. There wouldn't be many more opportunities to get the two of them together after his retirement. This expedition was his last chance.

He smiled down at the cameo. “So much like us, eh, Anita?"

Two people ignoring the first signs of real attraction, fearing where it could lead, wondering if they should dare consider anything other than common cordiality. Ah, but once they acknowledged the spark between them, there would be no turning back.

Grinning, he headed down the hall toward Stephen's office. It was time to break the news to his friend about their extra team member. Edwin hoped his excitement would be perceived as being due to the pending expedition and not his clandestine matchmaking.

Chapter Two

Stephen looked up at the tall masts of the Sweet Anita. She was a beautiful clipper ship. With a slender hull and five tiers of sails to each mast, she would cut through the Atlantic with the grace and speed of a porpoise.

He idly wondered who Anita might be as he watched the many sailors perform their unique ballet, dancing across her rigging. This expedition held many new experiences, sailing being one of them, and he looked forward to this adventure with the eagerness of a child.

As his gaze came down to the teakwood deck buffed to perfection, he spotted Edwin coming toward him. “How long have you been aboard, Edwin? I had the impression I was the first."

"A few hours. I wanted to get settled.” He chuckled. “I suppose I was too excited to stay home any longer."

Stephen's excitement waned as a small wisp of regret teased the edge of his mind. Miss Peterson would not be there to see her father off. Although she did manage to distract him to no end, one last glimpse of her charming face would have made the trip more pleasant. He would miss those glimpses of her over the next few months.

Shaking off his twinge of melancholy, he said, “Our colleagues won't be arriving for some time. Shall we go below and check the supplies?” Anything to get his mind off his friend's unattainable daughter.

Kristina Peterson was like no other woman he had ever known, and yet he didn't really know her at all. They had been introduced, had attended some of the same university functions, but they had rarely exchanged more than a few words. In truth, he knew nothing about her other than how lovely she was.

There were, however, a few occasions when he had overheard her utter some rather candid remarks about women's rights, totally flummoxing whomever she happened to be speaking with. But he'd never taken it upon himself to have a genuine conversation with the woman.

Even if he attempted to speak with her, she would no doubt find his list of topics exceedingly boring, as they were limited to a plethora of academic and scientific issues. His work was his life, which would be a dull subject to a woman like Miss Peterson.

Her absence on those rare occasions when he was invited to her father's house for dinner only served to prove his theory that to most people he was a complete bore. But Stephen preferred his life exactly as it was. Simple, uncomplicated, and uninvolved with the opposite sex. Yet he had to admit, at times there did seem to be something missing.

Stephen ruminated absently on what Miss Peterson's life was like as they made their way below deck. It probably resembled the lives of other beautiful young women of her class, with frequent trips to the opera, dancing at lavish balls, attending elegant teas and soirees, and all with hordes of men pursuing her favor. And yet, he had never seen her with anyone other than her father. Did she even have a gentleman friend?

"Of course she does,” he muttered.

"What's that?"

"Oh, um, nothing, Edwin. Just thinking aloud."

He tried to rein in his thoughts, but failed, the image of her dancing with some suitor appearing in his mind's eye. She undoubtedly had a veritable legion of gentlemen to wine and dine her on a steady basis. A hardworking, poorly paid professor, such as himself, could never compete with the long list of dashing admirers with bottomless pockets and more lively pursuits than paleontology.

His brow furrowed at the onset of a migraine. He couldn't believe he was actually theorizing about courting Kristina Peterson. Being attracted to her was not only irritating, but a grim reminder of his failures with women.

He'd always been the odd man out, the boy with spectacles and the personality of a dictionary. Even during college when the gangly boy had become a fit young man, women avoided him and his drab persona. If he should ask for so much as a simple walk in the park, he invariably received a polite “No thank you". No, he had no desire to get involved with any woman.

The door to the cargo hold creaked softly, pulling Stephen back to the present. He was about to embark on an adventure aboard a magnificent clipper ship, thanks to the generosity of an anonymous source. Quite unusual, but he wasn't about to question his luck, nor could he allow his disquieting thoughts of Miss Peterson interfere with one of the most significant moments in his career. In his life.

Pulling his notes from his pocket, he surveyed the hold, matching the listed items with the crates one by one. Without having to pay for a chartered ship, they were able to apply their limited funds to more supplies than they had originally planned, but there were several extra crates unaccounted for, taking up a good deal of space.

"Are these yours, Edwin? I don't see them on my inventory list."

"Oh, yes. Those contain some photography equipment and, um, a few other things."

"I see. Quite a bit more than I'd anticipated, but if you feel we need them, then I suppose we shall have to make allowances."

Edwin slapped him on the back. “Don't worry, my friend. There will be room enough to transport a seventy-foot Argyrosaurus, if need be."

Stephen grinned. “Thanks to our mysterious benefactor."

Edwin tugged at his beard. “Ah, yes. Well, I'm quite sure we won't let him down."

"Indeed not."

They turned and climbed the ladder to await the remaining team members.

"So, tell me more about Mr. Applegate. His photographs are quite compelling. Have you known him long?” Stephen asked.

Edwin cleared his throat and wandered between the two lifeboats, idly tugging at the ropes holding down the canvas coverings. “I've known Applegate for quite some time. I'm sure you'll enjoy working together.” He turned away and muttered lowly.

Stephen could swear he said something about grandchildren. “What's that, Edwin?"

"I said the rest of the team should be here any moment."

Within the hour, their colleagues arrived, eager to get underway. All except Mr. Applegate, a fact that bothered Stephen immensely. He detested having his schedule disrupted.

He snapped his pocket watched closed, then looked to Edwin regretfully. “I'm afraid we can't hold up our departure for Mr. Applegate. We must catch the tide if we're to arrive in Argentina as scheduled."

"Oh, my apologies,” Edwin replied. “I thought I told you. Kris, that is, Mr. Applegate is already aboard."

"What a relief,” he said with a small sigh. “You'll have to do the honors of introducing us and the rest of the team."

"Yes—yes of course. Perhaps at dinner. Well, I should get back to my cabin and check on a few things.” Edwin moved swiftly across the deck toward the steps leading below decks with a wary glance over his shoulder.

What in the world had gotten into the old gentleman? Perhaps he was somewhat nervous about the trip. He hadn't been on an expedition in several years.

Stephen pushed aside his needless speculation. If Edwin didn't feel he could handle the trip, he wouldn't have agreed to join them, but he was acting rather strangely.