Expedition of Love (31 page)

Unable to bear the weight of her thoughts any longer, she ordered an early dinner and set about getting some much needed rest.

Although the feather bed felt wonderful after sleeping on a tiny cot for so many weeks, she tossed and turned all through the night, tormented by a little voice asking her over and over why he didn't have a father like the other little boys. Her muttered answer never seemed to appease him. Nothing she did could make the child stop crying, leaving her feeling helpless and alone.

Opening her eyes before sunrise, she lay staring at the dark ceiling with damp cheeks and an ache in her chest for the little boy she had yet to meet. It all felt so real, so intense. How could she hurt an innocent child? With a sniffle, she left her bed and stared out into the night until the sun crested the horizon.

She did the same the next morning, and finally realized it was no use. No matter how many times she reviewed her predicament, she came to the same conclusion. If she were pregnant, she would marry Stephen. Her child's welfare and happiness had to come before her own. And yet, with such a weighty decision, she didn't feel too terribly unhappy.

With a shake of her head, she attributed it to relief and refused to think on it any further. She would wait and spend the next few days enjoying the city. If her calculations were correct, and they usually were, her monthlies were due any day, and then she would know for certain what steps to take.

Later, after a light breakfast and a delightful visit with Antonio's sister, she enjoyed the sights and sounds of the city, truly allowing herself to relax. Something she hadn't done since the expedition began. She could only surmise it had to do with finally making a logical decision about her future.

She laughed softly remembering Antonio's description of Anna's family as being little. Nothing could be farther from the truth. She had five children in all, and each within a year of the other. Kristina couldn't begin to comprehend how she managed to juggle one on each hip with three at her feet and still get anything done, but she seemed immensely happy.

Rounding a corner, still reminiscing on her visit, she spied a man with a familiar build and thought him to be Stephen.

Had he followed her here? Was he searching the local hotels for her? Without another thought, her pace increased until she was nearly running to catch-up with the man. Thankfully, he stopped to admire a street vendor's goods before she could make a complete ninny of herself, giving her a clear view of his profile.

It wasn't him. Pressing her hand to her pounding heart, she took a moment to catch her breath.

What on earth was she doing? Did she miss him so much that she saw his image in every face? Would this be how she would feel when they returned home? Would she see him at every turn in her mind's eye until she was completely insane?

Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach. Unless she awoke by his side for the rest of her life. Her mind vacillating between the idea of living the rest of her days with Stephen and returning home alone, she made her way to the river.

Watching the water flow by, the leaves of autumn floating along like small boats, her mind turned to the voyage home. Her father and the others would need the Sweet Anita for the fossils and their own trip back to New York, which meant she would have to book passage on a commercial ship if she didn't return to the dig site.

What a dull place home would be without her father. Without Stephen. Perhaps she would see him on occasion. Perhaps they could remain friends of a sort. With a heavy sigh, she flopped down in the grass by the water giving no thought to her dress or the wrinkles the ground would cause.

If they didn't marry, she could never look the man in the eye again after having spent such wonderful moments in his arms. Her face would surely flush, her heart would pound mercilessly against her ribs, her palms would perspire in a most unladylike way, and everyone would know exactly what had happened. There would be no hiding the truth in her eyes.

Seeing him and pretending as if nothing ever happened would be cruel. To both of them. Especially knowing that he loved her. She rubbed at the goose bumps racing across her skin. Someone other than her father, other than Antonio carried her in their heart.

Shaking her head at her ridiculous musings, she rose from the riverbank and gazed at the sunlight dappling on the water. She wasn't thinking logically again, the very thing that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. And yet, she didn't regret lying with Stephen, even if a child were now growing inside her. These were things that resulted from the choices she'd made, and she would deal with them as sensibly as she could without the assistance of any silly, female emotions.

Marrying Stephen wouldn't be the end of her life, only a change in its course, and perhaps a life with him wouldn't be so terrible after all.

The sunlight winked on the water, as if to agree with her. She smiled ruefully. Even nature was against her. Perhaps she should reconsider allowing her heart to make a few choices. She couldn't deny that she fought some deeper emotion, that he was somehow a very significant part of her life. The question was should she allow that part to be all consuming, all-important.

A silent voice whispered in her ear in favor of such a decision. She smiled at the faint images dallying at the edge of her thoughts.

Then all went black.

Chapter Seventeen

Leaning against the wagon, Stephen scanned the dig site. She was gone, but still his eyes searched for her every morning, his ears listened for her every day. He never realized how empty the hours really were until she was no longer there to fill them with her bright smile, her brilliant spirit, and her amazing view of the world.

"I do wish that boy would hurry up,” Edwin said.

He grinned at his friend's impatience. It barely scratched the surface of his own. “I'm sure Antonio will be along soon. He said he would bring her back one way or another."

Edwin sighed. “Yes, but I can't help worrying about that girl."

"With your daughter that goes without saying."

Edwin chuckled lightly with a nod.

"I for one, miss her coffee,” Mr. Anderson said, loading another crate onto the wagon.

"You don't care for my swill. Eh, young man?” Edwin asked with a broad grin.

"Uh, no sir. I mean, yes sir. I only meant—"

With a light-hearted laugh, Edwin waved the young man off and returned to his work. But Stephen knew something bothered the old gentleman more than he was saying. Did he know of their affair? Did he fear Mr. Walters’ accusations were true? If so, his friend was determined to keep it to himself.

The hours dragged on, and still Stephen couldn't keep from looking up to see if Antonio had returned. His gut clenched as he studied the empty plateau.

Why did she have to leave? And why did he continuously ask himself the same blasted question? He knew she didn't love him, couldn't love him, and yet he persisted in torturing himself with hope.

He should have never made love to her again. He hadn't intended to. He had fought like the very devil against it, but once she was in his arms, he couldn't find the strength to let her go. He loved her too deeply, too completely. There was nothing he could do to stop himself. He needed her like he needed his next breath. It nearly killed him to come so close to possessing something he never dreamed possible, only to have it ripped away.

Stephen had never realized before, how lonely and empty his life was, how much he wanted to have someone special to share it with. His work was important to him, but he used it to hide from the rest of the world, barricading himself against the pain and emptiness. But here in this vast unusual country, he'd taken that treacherous step and let his heart fill with one person, one woman, and now found no ground beneath his feet.

Shaking his head, he went back to his work. Another few days, and they would have the last of the largest pieces of fossil out of the ground. In less than two weeks they would be heading for home, but where the devil was Antonio? He swore the previous evening he would bring her back with him. He promised Edwin he wouldn't let her get on that blasted boat.

Stephen lifted one of the remaining large pieces of fossil wrapped carefully in burlap as the familiar sound of hooves came closer and started his heart pounding. Spinning around, he nearly dropped the specimen. But his hopes were dashed. Antonio was alone.

As he pulled his horse up near the wagon, Edwin walked over to meet him. “Well? Where's my troublesome daughter?"

Stephen quickly placed the fossil into a crate and joined them. Antonio leapt down, his face set in stone as he took long determined strides toward them. Something was wrong.

"Where is she?” Stephen asked.

"She has been taken. A boy waited for me at the hotel with a message that I must meet him at a farm beside the river across from Confluencia, or we will not see Kristina again."

An icy chill of fear coursed through Stephen's blood. He failed to notice Edwin slowly slumping to the ground. Mr. Anderson and Mr. Thomas were by his side in seconds.

Shaken from the shock, Stephen helped them move Edwin to a nearby chair.

"I'm all right. I have to be all right. She needs me now,” the old gentleman muttered roughly.

Swallowing hard, Stephen turned to Antonio. “Do you think this has to do with the cattle rustling?"

"I am not sure. We still do not know who was in charge, but I do not understand why he would take her. Why not kill me and be done with it?"

He remembered the comments made be the band of criminals and saw the twisted reasoning clearly. “Blackmail. He thinks Kristina is yours. By taking her, he controls you. He doesn't want you dead just yet."

Antonio's eyes widened. “Holy Mother in Heaven. I must hurry. I must be there by sundown.” He turned to mount his horse.

"Wait!” Stephen rushed to his side. “You aren't going alone. To get her back alive—” He swallowed hard. “To get her back and keep both of you from getting killed, we'll need to work together."

"Very well, but there is not much time."

Kristina's head felt like a stampede had run through it. Rubbing the tender spot at the back, she cracked open her eyes.

Where was she? Looking around at the few tools, mostly broken and obviously discarded, she realized she was in a gardening shed of some sort. But who put her here and why?

Light seeped through the cracks in the boards, but she couldn't determine if it was mid-morning or late afternoon. Her stomach grumbled loudly in answer to her question.

Afternoon. She was famished, obviously having missed luncheon.

She slowly got to her feet and pushed on the door, but it refused to budge. Peering through the cracks, she saw little to nothing outside. Moving to see through the opposite side of the shack, she saw only the river and a small abandoned house. Her captor, whom ever he may be, didn't appear to be around. How long was he going to keep her there? Until she starved to death?

Dismissing that uncomfortable thought, she examined the broken tools for something to use to pry open the door or perhaps remove some of the boards, but all she could find of use was what remained of a shovel. Her only recourse would be to wait until her kidnapper came through the door and return the favor of the lump on the back of her head.

She remembered the derringer she carried in her skirt pocket and frantically searched for it, but it wasn't there. Clearly remembering she'd placed it in her pocket that morning, meant she had been searched while unconscious.

She shivered with revulsion. Someone had touched her without her knowing it. Bile rose in her throat, but she forced it down with logic. Her buttons were all properly fastened, her skirts and undergarments were intact, and she knew she would be able to tell if her body had been invaded. She could only hope he, or they, hadn't pawed her before depositing her in the shed.

The sound of an approaching horse dispersed the distasteful thoughts. Quickly, she lifted the broken shovel handle above her head and waited in the corner behind the door. In seconds, it flew open, but no one entered.

"Come out and don't do anything stupid. I'd hate to have to shoot a woman,” a gruff voice said, and with a distinct American accent. “Hurry up!"

Disheartened, she dropped her only weapon and slowly stepped around the door, into the light of the setting sun. A man, a complete stranger, stood several feet away with a revolver pointed at her heart. Although he could easily pass as Argentinean with his dark coloring and gaucho attire, his speech told a different tale.

Crossing her arms firmly beneath her breast, she cast him one of her most withering glares. “I demand to know who you are and why you kidnapped me?"

"You're in no position to demand anything, Miss Peterson.” He motioned for her to move closer to the house.

Biting back a retort, she made her way across the small yard to the abandoned house. “I see no reason to keep the purpose of this abduction a secret. You've proven you know who I am, and therefore I must conclude you have kidnapped me for some specific reason. And as for your identity, it's obvious you aren't a native, even though you dress as one."

He snickered. “How does Antonio put up with all your chatter?"

"I do not chatter. I am simply stating the facts. And what does Antonio have to do with this?"

"All right. You want to know why I snatched you? It's pretty simple, really. I want to kill Antonio."

Her body flushed with a wave of heat then a chilling cold.

"Sorry to have to break the news to you, Miss Peterson, but you picked the wrong man for a lover. Now, sit down. There, on the steps while we wait."

She nervously cleared her throat as she sat down. “Antonio is not my lover."

He ignored her.

"What are we waiting for?” she asked, although she feared the answer.

"Your rescue, of course. Antonio should be along any minute."

Gripping her hands together in her lap, she regained her composure. “Why are you doing this?"

"Revenge. Plain and simple. He killed someone dear to me, and now he's going to pay. With his life—and yours."