Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior (22 page)

Gravely, Alaria said, “He has murder in his heart. He is one of the darkest members of the Brotherhood of Darkness.” She turned to Inca. “Faro shot at you before you could turn and get a shot at him. Roan was behind you, and shouted at you, but you slipped in the mud, and that is what doomed you. At the angle Roan was standing, he couldn’t get a bead on Faro to stop him before he fired at you. A bullet grazed the back of your head, my child, and broke your skull, and you dropped unconscious to the ground.” Alaria gestured toward Roan, tears in her eyes. “He saved you later, by giving permission to give his life so that you might return from the Threshold to us. There are few men of Roan’s courage and heart on the face of Mother Earth. Without his unselfish surrendering, you would not be with us today.”

Inca lost her appetite. She set the bowl aside and looked deeply into Roan’s eyes. “I remember only part of being on the Threshold. I remember him calling me back…. That is when I knew I was dying.”

“And you took his hand, which you had to do in order to decide to stay here instead of moving on to the other dimensions in spirit form.” Alaria smiled gently and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “His unselfish act of love did more than just save your life, my child.”

Inca reached out and threaded her fingers through
Roan’s. He squeezed gently and smiled at her. “What else did it do?” Inca asked.

Alaria looked at her for a long time, the silence thickening in the hut. She placed her hands on her thighs. Her mouth turned inward, as if in pain. “You were told not to come back to the Village of the Clouds because you broke a cardinal rule of the Jaguar Clan.”

“Yes,” Inca said haltingly. “I did.”

“And when a clan member knowingly breaks a rule, the council must act on it. You were told to leave and never return.”

Hanging her head, Inca closed her eyes. She felt all those awful feelings of the day she’d been asked to leave. Roan held her hand a little more tightly and tried to assuage some of her grief. Choking, Inca whispered, “I had been abandoned once without choice. By coming to Michael’s rescue, I knowingly gave up my family, and it was my choice. I have no one to blame for my actions but me. I knew better, but I did it anyhow.”

“Yes,” Alaria murmured sadly. “But we, the council, have been watching you the last seven years since you left us. We have watched you grow, and become less selfish, living more in accordance with the laws of the Sisterhood of Light.” She gestured toward the rain forest behind the village. “For seven years you have followed every law. We have watched and noted this, Inca. You have turned into a wonderful healer for the sick and the aging. This is part of your blood, your heritage. But it is also part of your life to protect and defend the people of Amazonia. And this you have done willingly, without any help from us at any time. You have been completely on your own. You could have gone over to the Brotherhood
of Darkness, but you did not. You struggled, grew and transformed all on your own into a proud member of the Jaguar Clan.”

Inca blinked. “But I am not of the clan. I stand in the in-between world, neither dark nor light. That is what you said at my judgment.”

“That was then.” Alaria spoke quietly. She held Inca’s unsure and fearful gaze, feeling the pain of her abandonment and loss. “You came to us without family. Without relatives. We loved you like the daughter we never had. Adaire and I cherished you. We tried to give you what you had been denied all those years, without a true mother and father.”

Hot tears moved into Inca’s eyes. She felt emotionally vulnerable because of all that she’d just experienced, and could not hide how she felt, or hold back the tears that now ran down her cheeks. “And I hurt both of you so very much. I am sorry for that—sorrier than you will ever know. Grandfather Adaire and you loved me. You gave me so much of what I was hungry for and never had before I came here.” Self-consciously, Inca wiped her cheeks. “And I ruined it. I did not respect the love that you gave to me. I abused the privilege. I will be forever sorry for the hurt I have caused you, Grandmother. You
must
believe me on that.”

“We know how sorry you are, Inca. We have always loved you, child. That never changed throughout the years while you were away.” Alaria’s face grew tender. “Inca, you could have chosen so many other ways to lead your life when you left the village. No one but Adaire and I had hope that you would turn out to be the wonderful human being you are now. You care for the poor, you
protect them, you heal them when it is within the laws, and you think nothing of yourself, your pain or your suffering. You have put others before yourself. This is one of the great lessons a clan member must learn and embrace. And you have done that.”

Inca sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Th-thank you, Grandmother.”

“You’re more than welcome, child. But here is the best news yet. The council has decided, unanimously, that you are to be allowed back into the Jaguar Clan with full privileges and support.” She smiled as she saw the shock of their community decision register fully on Inca’s face. She gasped. Roan placed his arm around her and gave her a hug of joy. He was grinning broadly.

Alaria held up her hand. “Not only that, Inca, but when you are fully recovered, the council wants to publicly commend and honor you for what you have accomplished in Amazonia, thus far.
That
is why you are here, child. Your banishment is over. You have earned the right to be among us once again.” She smiled a little, her eyes glimmering with tears. “And I hope this time that you honor the laws and never break any of them ever again.”

Inca sobbed. She threw her arms around Roan and clung to him as she buried her face against his shoulder.

Roan felt tears in his own eyes. He understood what this meant to Inca. Moving his hand through her thick, dark hair, he rasped against her ear, “You have your family back, sweetheart. You’re home…you’re really home…”

R
oan found Inca wandering in a field near the village. Since it was nearly noon, he had made them lunch. Swinging the white cotton cloth that held their meal in his left hand, he stepped out into the field. It was alive with wildflowers, the colors vibrant against the soft green of the grasses, which were ankle-to knee-high. The meadow was bordered on three sides by old, magnificent kapok trees, their buttressing roots looking like welcoming arms to Roan.

Above him, as always, were the large, slowly rolling clouds that seemed to always surround the village. He’d been here seven days and he had more questions than answers about this very special place. All his focus, however, was on Inca and her continued rehabilitation from her near death experience. From the day that Grandmother Alaria had told her she was part of the Jaguar Clan once more, Inca had become more solemn, more introspective.
She was holding a lot of feelings inside her; Roan could sense it. He saw his part in her adjustment as simply being on hand if she wanted to talk about it and a needed, sympathetic ear, a shoulder to lean on. So far she hadn’t, and he honored her own sense of healing. At some point, he knew, Inca would talk with him at length. All he had to do was be patient. Fortunately, his Native American heritage gave him that gift. The other good news was that the mission led by Colonel Marcellino had been successful.

As he crossed the field, the sunlight was warm and pleasant. The village seemed to be climate controlled at a balmy seventy-five degrees during the day and sixty-five degrees at night—neither too hot nor too cold. Even the temperature reflected the harmony and peace that infused the village and its transient inhabitants. The white-and-gray clouds that slowly churned in mighty, unending circles around the village had something to do with it, he suspected. He could see the steep, sharp granite peaks of the Andes in the distance. On the other side of the village the rain forest spread out in a living green blanket. They were literally living between the icy cold of the mountains and the hot, humid air arising from the rain forest below. No wonder there were always clouds present around the village, hiding it from prying, outsiders’ eyes like a snug, protective blanket.

Inca was bending over a flower and smelling it, not yet aware of his presence. Since her accident, she seemed much more at ease, not jumpy and tense like before. As Grandfather Adaire had told him, this was a place of complete safety. Nothing could harm the inhabitants who lived and studied in the village. Maybe that was why he was
seeing her relaxed for the first time. The change was startling and telling for Roan. Here Inca wore soft cotton, pastel shifts and went barefoot, her hair loose and free about her proud shoulders. Gone was the warrior and her military garb. There were no weapons of any kind allowed in the village. All the people Roan saw—and there were many from around the world—were dressed in loose fitting clothing made of natural fibers.

Inca lifted her head in his direction, her eyes narrowing. Roan smiled as he felt her warm welcome embrace him, an invisible “hug” he knew came from Inca. The serious look on her face changed to one of joy upon seeing him. This morning he’d gone with Grandfather Adaire on an exploratory trip around the village. The elder had shown him many of the new and interesting sites that surrounded them. No wonder Inca had loved living and studying here. Roan understood more than ever how devastating it had been when she was told to leave. The way she had sobbed that morning when Grandmother Alaria told her she was welcomed back had been telling, pulled from the depths of her hurting, wounded soul. Roan had held her, rocked her and let her cry out all her past hurt and abandonment, the relief that she was once more welcomed back to her spiritual family. And they had told him not to mention anything about Maya to her yet. Inca was still reeling emotionally and Grandmother Alaria said that at the right time, Inca would meet her sister. Roan could hardly wait for that to happen. He knew how much Inca needed her real family.

Waving his hand, he quickened his stride toward her. The breeze lifted strands of her shining ebony hair. How soft and vulnerable Inca appeared as she stood expectantly
waiting for him. In her hand were several wildflowers that she’d picked. He grinned. Gone, indeed, was the warrior. In her place was the woman who had resided deeply in Inca until she could be released in the safety of such a place as the village. Roan liked the change, but he also honored her ability to use her masculine energy as a warrior. Every woman had a warrior within her, whether she knew it or not. He was at ease with a woman who could use all the strength within herself.

Every woman had to deal with the myriad of issues life threw at them. They were far stronger emotionally and mentally than men, and Roan had no problem acknowledging that fact. He’d seen too many women squash that latent primal warrior, that survival ability within themselves, never tap into it because society said it was wrong for a woman to be strong and powerful. At least Inca had not allowed that to happen to her. She had carried her warrior side to an extreme, but her life mission asked that of her. Still, it was good that she had the village to come to, to rest up. To let go of that role she played.

Lifting the cloth bag with a grin, he called out, “Lunch-time. Interested?” His heart seemed to burst open as he heard her light, lilting laughter bubbling up through her long, slender throat. The gold flecks dancing in her willow-green eyes made him ache to love Inca fully and completely.

“I’m starving!” she called, and eagerly moved toward him, the hem of her dress catching now and then on taller flowers and grass blades.

How Roan loved her! A fierce need swept through him, and as Inca leaped forward, her hair flying behind her shoulders like a dark banner, he laughed deeply and ap
preciatively. Suddenly, life was good. Better than he could ever recall. Sarah, his wife, would always have a part of his heart. But Inca owned the rest of it.

Every day, Inca surrendered a little more to her own curiosity and feminine instincts to touch him, kiss him. Someday, he hoped, she would ask him to love her fully and completely. Right now, Roan knew she was processing a lot of old emotions and traumas, and working through them. Her heart was shifting constantly between healing herself and reaching out to him, woman to his man. He was more than content to wait, although it was wreaking havoc on him physically.

Inca reached him and threw her arms around his neck.

Laughing, Roan caught her in midair and pressed her body warmly against his. Her arms tightened around his neck. He saw the mischievous glint in her eye and dipped his head to take her offered, smiling mouth.

Her lips tasted of sunlight and warmth. Staggering backward from her spontaneous leap into his arms, he caught himself, stopped and then held her tightly against him. She had such a young, strong, supple body. Like a bow curved just right, Roan thought as he held her against him.

“Mmm…this is my dessert,” Inca purred wickedly as she eased her lips from his. Looking up into Roan’s eyes, she saw his hunger for her. She felt it through every yearning cell in her body, and in every beat of her giddy heart. How handsome Roan looked to her. That scowl he’d perpetually worn in Brazil was gone here in the village, which lay within Peru’s border. Today he dressed in a pair of cream-colored cotton trousers, sandals on his huge feet, and a loose, pale blue shirt, the sleeves rolled
up to his elbows. The warrior in both of them had been left behind when they came to the village.

Chuckling, Roan eased her to the ground. “Still hungry, or do I finish off this feast by myself?” he teased. Sliding his arm around her waist, Roan led her to the edge of the meadow. Sitting down in the shade of a towering tree, his back against one of the buttressing roots, he pulled Inca down beside him. She nestled between his legs, her back curved against him.

“No, I am hungry. Starved like a jaguar….” And Inca quickly opened the cloth bag.

Roan leaned back, content to have her within his loose embrace. He heard her gasp in delight.

“Pineapple with rice!” She grinned with triumph. “You must have begged Grandmother Alaria to make this for us. It is my favorite recipe. She used to make this for me when I was training here in the village.”

Tunneling his fingers through her dark hair, Roan watched the breeze catch it as it sifted softly down upon her shoulders. “Yep, I bribed her.”

“Oh!” Inca held up a container, her face alight with surprise. “Cocoa pudding!”

“Your second favorite, Grandmother said. I asked her to make you something special, and she said you used to hang around her hut every day and beg her to make it for you.”

Inca gloated as she tore the lid off and grabbed a spoon. “Hah! And more times than not, Grandmother gave in to my pleadings.”

“Hey, that’s dessert! You’re suppose to eat your other food first.”

Inca twisted around and gave him a crooked grin of
triumph. “Who said so?” She pointed to her belly. “It is all going to the same place. It does not care what comes first, second or third!” And she laughed gaily.

Watching her spoon the still-warm pudding into her mouth, Roan picked up a sandwich of cheese and lettuce liberally sprinkled with hot chilies. “Now I know why you like this place so much. You can do exactly what you want to do here.”

Chuckling indulgently, Inca leaned back and quickly consumed half of the pudding with gusto. When she’d finished, she set the container aside. “Your half,” she instructed him primly.

“That’s big of you. I thought you were going to wolf the whole thing down in one gulp.”

“Jaguars do such things,” she agreed wryly, meeting his smiling eyes as she picked up the other cheese sandwich. Munching on it, she announced, “Today, I feel magnanimous in spirit. I will share with you my favorite dessert.”

“I like it when you can smile and tease. Here you have a sense of humor and you’re playful. I never saw that side of you in Brazil. It’s nice.”

Inca nodded and eagerly finished off the sandwich. The bread, too, was still warm from the oven. Licking her fingers one at a time, she murmured, “Here I do not have to be anything but myself. I do not have to be a warrior constantly. I can relax.”

Sobering, Roan wiped his hands on another cloth and reached for the bowl of chocolate pudding. “I’m glad you have this place to return to, Inca. You were worn down. You needed someplace to heal.” He gazed around. In the distance he saw a great blue heron flying toward what he
knew was the waterfall area. The day was incredibly beautiful. But every day in this village was like being in a secret, hidden Shangri-La.

Inca turned around and crossed her bare legs beneath the thin fabric of her dress. Taking one of the mangoes, she began to methodically peel it with her long, slender fingers. “I feel better today than ever before, Roan. More…” she searched for the right word “…whole.”

“Yes,” he murmured. “You’ve had a long, hard journey for seven years, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned this place, this down time.” He looked fondly toward the village. “All of it.”

“I have my family back,” Inca said as she bit into the ripe mango.

Roan nodded, understanding the implications of her softly spoken, emotion-filled words. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he was under strict orders by Grandmother Alaria to say nothing of Maya, who had helped to save Inca’s life. A part of him chaffed under that stern order. He wanted to share his discovery of Maya, and the fact she was Inca’s twin sister, but Alaria had warned him sufficiently that he backed off from saying anything. Inca needed time and space to heal. She would know the truth when Maya chose to appear and break the news to her, Alaria had told him.

Roan watched Inca through half-closed eyes, the afternoon heat, the good food and her company all conspiring to make him feel regally satisfied in ways he’d never experienced.

Wiping her hands on the damp cloth, Inca looked at him. “You look like a fat, old happy jaguar who has just eaten more than his fill and is going to go sleep it off.”

His mouth lifted. “That’s exactly how I feel.” Roan reached out and grazed her cheek. “Only I have my jaguar mate here with me. That’s what makes this special.”

“I put you to sleep?” Inca demanded archly, unmercifully teasing him.

The fire in her eyes, the indignation, wasn’t real, and Roan chuckled. “You would put no man to sleep, believe me,” he rasped as he eased her around so that her back fit beautifully against him once more. “Come here, wild woman. My woman…”

Sighing contentedly, Inca settled against Roan. He took her hands in his, and they rested against her slightly rounded abdomen. A small but warming thought of someday carrying his child in her belly moved through Inca’s mind. As she laid her head back on his broad, capable shoulder and closed her eyes, she sighed languidly. “I have never been happier, Roan. I did not know that love could make me feel this way.” She felt the warmth of the breeze gently caressing her as she lay in his arms, his massive thighs like riverbanks on either side of her slender form. “You make me feel safe when I have never felt safe before. Did you know that?” She opened her eyes slightly and looked up at him, and felt him chuckle, the sound rolling like a drumbeat through his massive chest.

“I know,” he replied as he moved his fingers in a stroking motion down her slim, golden arm. He saw many old scars here and there across her firm flesh. It hurt him to think of her being in pain, for Inca had lived with not only physical pain, but the sorrowful loss of her family, from the time she was born. In a way, it had made her stronger and self-reliant. She was able to move mountains, literally, because of the strength this one event had given
her in life. Roan tangled his fingers with hers. “I love you, my woman,” he whispered next to her ear. Her hair was soft against his lips. “Just know that you own my heart forever.”

Her fingers tightened around his. Nuzzling his jaw, she whispered huskily, “And you hold my heart in your hands. You did from the beginning, even if I was not aware of it at first.”

“When I saw you,” Roan said in a low, deep tone as he caressed her hair, “I fell in love with you on the spot.”