Expedition of Love (26 page)

"Stubborn? You're the one who's stubborn. We can't simply forget this happened. There could be consequences.” He paused and his voice softened. “You could be with child."

Growling, she spun back around. Did he think she was an imbecile? “I am fully aware of the consequences. I have a degree in biology, for pity's sake. And whatever happens I'm perfectly capable of dealing with the situation."

"What the devil does that mean?"

"It means I will raise the child alone, if there is one."

"Over my dead body! It's my child too, and I will not abandon him or you."

"Oh, you and your blasted honor. I am not some fragile female. When are you going to get that into your fossilized head?"

"Why can't you let someone take care of you for once?"

"I don't
need
anyone to take care of me.” She swung up onto her horse and ignored the shocking jolt to her sore body.

"I know you don't, but didn't it ever occur to you that I might
want
to take care of you?"

She sat for a moment staring down into his sparking eyes, refusing to see and hear what he was trying to tell her, refusing to remember why she ached in so many extraordinary places. What had passed during the night would be all they could ever share. He simply had to accept it.

And so did she.

With a sudden jerk of the reins, she took off across the plateau at a harried pace. The man's mind was clouded with honor mixed with some exquisite lovemaking.

"No, it was sex,” she muttered. Not love. Love didn't fit into her life. And as for Stephen, he would reconsider his demand that they marry once his head cleared.

"He wants to take care of me. Ridiculous!"

She could take care of herself, and had been doing so for a very long time. Since the day her mother died. Why would she want anyone to take care of her now? For what possible reason would she ever want such a thing? Why would she ever want to hand control of her life over to a man?

"Once you start depending on someone that way, you become vulnerable,” she said, her words lost to the wind. At any moment that support could be torn away, leaving you alone, lost, and hurting. No one in their right mind would willingly put themselves in that position, and she most certainly wasn't about to let that happen.

Not again.

Stephen let loose a litany of curses as he threw together the remaining gear and saddled his horse.

"Stubborn female,” he muttered.

As he climbed onto his mount and started after her, his curses turned against himself. He should have kept his distance. He should never have touched her, or looked into those deep brown eyes, or tasted her sweet lips.

Or fallen in love with her.

"Idiot."

Spurring his horse into a gallop, he could see her ahead of him in the distance slowing to a steady trot. As he neared, he noted the curve of her waist, the roundness of her backside, the wind whipping her hair about, beckoning him to follow. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

Of all the women in the world, he had to fall in love with the most tenacious, pigheaded female ever born. His life would never be the same again. Somehow he had to convince her to marry him.

Dust swirled in the air as he arrived in camp immediately behind her. Edwin and Richard were climbing down from a wagon to greet them. Apparently they were about to embark on recovering the fossils.

Stephen breathed a small sigh of relief. At least they hadn't been caught in a compromising position. If they hadn't had that damnable argument they might still be lying beneath wool blankets pleasuring one another.

But his relief was short lived. They may not have been caught in a tryst, but he had spent the night with her without a chaperone. Her reputation would be sorely damaged by that fact alone.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he let out a weary sigh. How on earth had he managed to get himself into such a predicament?

"Kristina!” Edwin called. “I was worried when you and Stephen didn't return with Antonio, but the lad said you were determined to guard the fossils."

Guarding the fossils? Stephen guided his horse beside hers next to the makeshift coral, doing his best to keep his features devoid of any expression. Antonio obviously cared a great deal about Kristina's reputation to fabricate such a story. Something he should've remembered before making love to her.

"Yes, um, the fossils,” she said.

Stephen noticed her wince as she dismounted, landing on her injured foot. He considered scooping her up into his arms, but he knew his presence wasn't welcome at the moment, and it wouldn't be exactly proper, regardless of what had transpired between them.

Mr. Walters moved in close beside her, all but trapping her against her horse. “Are you hurt, Miss Peterson? Is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Damn propriety and damn her stubbornness. Stephen leapt off his horse, shoved past Walters, and lifted her into his arms. She squeaked in surprise, but thankfully didn't rail at him.

"Miss Peterson has twisted her ankle and received a small blow to the head. That is why we didn't wait for your arrival this morning, but I'm sure she'll be fine once she's rested. Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I'll take her to her tent where she can recover."

He stomped into the compound toward her tent with his colleagues in his wake. And if he wasn't mistaken, a chuckling Edwin bringing up the rear.

"I'm perfectly capable of getting to my tent on my own,” she whispered vehemently.

"I doubt Mr. Walters would've allowed that."

"Oh."

From the corner of his eye, he watched her peek over his shoulder, and assumed she was looking to see if the irritating young man was following, which he knew he was. Stephen could feel his assistant's gaze burning into his back.

She stiffened, tightening her grip around his neck. He knew she had seen the malicious gleam in young Walters’ eyes, and wondered if the man would try and use his assumed information to harm Kristina.

Edwin appeared beside them and pulled back the tent flap. “Let's have a look at that bump, missy,” Edwin said.

She hesitated in removing her arms from around his neck as he began to straighten from where he'd set her on the cot. Fear that he would say something about what happened between them, glittered in her eyes. But he couldn't do that to her no matter how badly he wanted her. Only a cad would humiliate her that way, or try and use her father against her.

He gently took her hands from around his neck and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a pent-up breath. “I'm fine, Papa. It's just a bump."

Dropping to his knees, Stephen unlaced her boot and carefully slipped it from her foot while Edwin continued to study her head.

"Let me be the judge of that,” her father said.

"Would you two stop fussing over me? I'm fine.” She jerked her foot from Stephen's hand, but he quickly snatched it back.

"Now you listen to me, missy. You will let us tend to you whether you like it or not.” She opened her mouth, but Edwin cut her off. “And I don't want to hear another word about you being able to take care of yourself. Now sit still so I can see to that bump."

She snapped her mouth closed and looked down at where Stephen sat. He couldn't contain his low chuckle at her smirk.

"Well, you seem to be right, my dear,” Edwin said. “It doesn't appear to be too bad. That,” he said, looking at her ankle, “looks a bit worse."

"The swelling isn't as bad as I feared,” Stephen said. “I suspect she'll be up and about in no time. But I would still like to have a physician take a look at it."

"We'll see what can be arranged. And I suspect she'll have to stay off it for several days."

"I agree."

"Would you two quit talking as if I weren't in the room?” Kristina complained. “I do not need or want a physician. I'll stay off my foot, and it will heal in good time. However, don't think for one minute that I'm going to lie around and do nothing. I have work to do."

Stephen opened his mouth to protest, but she cut her eyes at him successfully stealing his breath.

Lord, how he loved her strength, her fire, her passion. He clenched his teeth against the sudden rush of desire. The once innocent foot still cradled in his hands sent pulses of heat shooting up his arm. Being near her now, knowing how she tasted, how she felt wrapped in his embrace, would be nearly unbearable.

"Now, Kris, you'll do exactly as you're told,” her father said. “We shall see about the physician. But I imagine you can do a great deal while sitting without causing anymore harm."

Stephen grinned as he concentrated on bandaging her ankle instead of the blood surging through his veins. She had the old boy securely wrapped around her finger. Even if Edwin were aware of the incident out on the plateau and demanded they marry, she would in all likelihood cajole him to her way of thinking. No one could make Kristina Peterson do something she truly didn't wish to do.

But if there were a child—no, he wouldn't force her to marry him. As if he could, but how the devil was he going to convince her?

Her ankle re-wrapped, he lifted her foot to the cot and placed it on a pillow.

Edwin kissed her scowling brow. “Now, my dear, I think you should rest. Stephen will come collect you at luncheon."

Her head snapped up. “That won't be necessary, Papa."

"Quite the contrary. He seems rather adept at carrying you, and I don't exactly trust these other young pups with the task.” He grinned, resting his hand on Stephen's shoulder. “You don't mind, do you, Stephen?"

"No, not at all.” He couldn't take his eyes off her. All this talk about carrying her, about having her in his arms, brought the recent memory of their lovemaking to the surface, fueling the burning desire to have her again. To have her for the rest of his life.

Edwin slapped him soundly on the back, jarring his thoughts. “Glad to hear it, my boy. Now, let's give my daughter some time to rest, and see to recovering those missing fossils.” He slipped through the tent flap, and Stephen moved to follow, unable to endure a single moment alone with her and still maintain control.

"Stephen,” she called, halting his escape.

Tempting the little bit of willpower he had left, he looked over his shoulder at the woman with sufficiently mused hair, bottomless brown eyes, and faintly red cheeks. Scrapes from his unshaven face, most likely. He self-consciously rubbed his rough jaw, ashamed for causing her any sort of pain.

"Thank you for not saying anything to Papa,” she said.

His feet, having listened to his heart, carried him back to her side. He quickly cupped her face in his hands and claimed her lips with all the fury and desire boiling in his veins.

"This isn't over yet, Kristina.” He fled her tent before the sweet taste of her lips overwhelmed him.

Kristina sat motionless for countless minutes, stunned by the rapid tattoo of her heart. She pressed her fingers to her lips, still trembling from his powerful kiss.

Heaven help her. How was she going to resist him when he used such underhanded tactics? How was she going to win this war he'd declared? How could she go on with her life knowing she would never feel his touch again?

Slowly, she lay back on her cot, her head buzzing with memories and sensations, heating every inch of her skin. She closed her eyes with a groan. Somehow she had to douse this fire before it consumed her completely.

Overwhelmed with fatigue from her many sleepless nights, she drifted off to sleep. Images of Stephen, of Raul and his filthy companion, of Geoffrey Walters and his insidious glare, flashed through her mind like a Magic-Lantern show until a familiar nightmare surfaced and claimed her dreams.

She clearly saw her mother lying perfectly still, as beautiful as an angel. Her father tried to explain that it was God's will, but she refused to listen. Running to her mother, she held her tightly with her small hands, and sobbed for her to wake up. But the coldness of death was evident, and she knew her mother would never again braid her hair, caress her cheek, or read her stories. She was gone forever.

A horrible pain ripped through her heart, shredding it until nothing was left but a chasm so deep in her soul that nothing could ever fill it.

Kristina opened her eyes filled with fresh tears from the old pain. “No,” she murmured. “I will not feel that way again."

She wiped her face and replaced the lock on her memories and her heart as she'd done for more than sixteen years.

The pungent smell of luncheon wafted into her tent. Reminded of Stephen's imminent arrival, she reached for her small hand mirror. Oh, she looked a dreadful sight. What would he think to see her this way?

Kristina dropped the mirror to her lap. She didn't give a fig what he thought. Issuing orders, stomping around demanding they marry. Nonsense. But she didn't need to look quite so dreadful while sitting down to luncheon.

Scowling, she lifted the mirror, and tried to do something serviceable with her hair. She managed a quick and semi-tidy braid, then hobbled to the crate she used as a desk and retrieved a small pitcher of water lightly scented with jasmine.

Wetting a cloth, she washed her face and neck removing the dust and grime as best she could, then liberally applied the jasmine scented lotion she'd created in her lab at home to her face, neck, and hands. Her homemade concoction kept her skin from turning to leather with her vigorous work and repeated exposure to the sun.

Feeling better for the little bit she'd done, although she wished she could emerge her entire body into a tub filled with hot water, she sat down on the cot and awaited Stephen. Thoughts of him carrying her to the cook tent quickly heated her blood. Drat the man. How in blazes was she going to get him out of her system?

"Miss Peterson?"

Her grim frown turned to total disgust. “Just a minute, Mr. Walters.” Containing her curses, she opened the tent flap and hobbled outside.

"You really shouldn't be up on your foot."

He reached out to support her, but she caught his hands before he made contact with her body and deftly pushed them away. “Thank you, but I don't need any assistance."