Sara's Surprise (5 page)

He gestured at her unprotected surroundings. "Aren't you afraid to be out here with me? There might be dragons, and I'm no Sir Lancelot."

She looked at him pensively. "I remember a time when you were."

His chest constricted on an aching sensation of loss,

of chances stolen, of a time when he could have charmed her, won her. "Long gone," he muttered.

"No. A scarred knight is still a knight. Still noble." She paused. "But misguided. This damsel isn't in distress."

"Then let me see for myself." He jerked his thumb toward the gate. "Open it."

"No."

His patience evaporated. "Then why the hell did you come out here to talk?"

"You want to visit with me! So visit!" She held out her arms. "I'm trying to compromise! Here I am! Do what you want!"

Drops of cold rain whipped through the trees, the heralds of a deluge that began five seconds later. "Visit accepted," Kyle said loudly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to his tent, a low, dome-shaped structure meant for a solitary occupant or two very well-acquainted ones.

They sat down cross-legged on his rumpled sleeping bag atop the soft cushion of an air mattress, while the rain beat a loud tattoo on the material overhead. Sara's damp hair and clothes filled his senses with a pleasant feminine smell that included a light fragrance, whether perfume or simply the result of her work with flowers, he didn't know. Her hand lay cool and tense inside his grip, but she didn't pull away.

She looked around, her cheeks flushed as if she were trying to avoid his eyes. His flowered shirt was neatly folded atop his tote bag. She pointed at it. "I think you've got some Circaea Quadrisulcata there."

"Don't insult me in Latin," he ordered mildly.

"The small white flowers on your shirt. They look like Circaea Quadrisulcata. Enchanters' nightshade. A pretentious name originally assigned to a more interesting plant, according to mythology, by the Greek enchantress, Circe."

"Isn't nightshade dangerous?"

"Not this one. It isn't part of the same family. The name's not related."

"So." He smiled sardonically. "What does my taste in shirts say about me? That I'm a fake enchanter and not dangerous?"

Sara pushed dewy red hair off her forehead. "Hardly!"

"Which part? Both? I am dangerous? I am an enchanter?"

"You are a smooth talker who could probably charm the Zonotrichia Albicolli down from the deciduous perennials."

"Birds from the trees?" he guessed.

She nodded. "Very good."

"Then why can't I charm you out of your fortress?"

"You did. I'm here."

"For how long?"

She looked at a man's digital wristwatch mounted on a thick silver stretch band. "Fifteen minutes."

"Yow! An eternity. What's with the man's watch?"

She held her small-boned wrist up so that he could see the watch's complex dial. "I use the stopwatch in my lab work. I couldn't find a woman's watch that had all the features I wanted."

"Speaking of timing and relationships, tell me the approximate date of your last social outing with a man."

"I beg your pardon?"

He arched a brow. "A datus Friday-nightus . A big date."

She scowled at him, and deep wariness glimmered in her eyes. Her fingers stiffened even more inside his grip. "I'm not lonely."

"Any prospects?"

"Not lately."

"Not since before the before Surador?"

She looked embarrassed. "Right." More than embar-

rassed. Worried. Evasive. She began trying to tug her hand away from his.

Kyle suddenly realized that his interrogation must sound like a come-on. His scars seemed to bum his skin; he was acutely aware of each one. He let go of her hand and said as lightly as he could, "Hey, I'm not hinting for personal reasons, all right? I just want some straight answers about your happiness."

Her eyes locked on his with an intensity that made him feel vulnerable. She searched them while he cursed silently, but couldn't look away. Her expression softened. "So when was your last datus Friday-nightus, Mr. Surprise?"

"Oh, no, Doc, you're not turning the tables on me. I'm an expert at interrogation."

"Uhmmm. A definite lack of social activity, I suspect. How interesting. Perhaps you and I are both hermits, only in different ways."

"I haven't walled myself"

"What are you afraid of, Kyle?" The victorious gleam in her eye began to annoy him. "You enjoy baiting me, patronizing me"

"Maybe, but it's for your own good. And I told you up front that helping you would help me"

"How? What are you trying to prove to yourself? Are you so afraid you have nothing to offer a woman that you have to prove that you do, even if it's only by playing therapist?"

Months of hidden frustration and self-doubt boiled over. Wounded right down to his carefully nourished sense of truth, Kyle grabbed her by the shoulders and cursed softly. "See for yourself what I can still offer."

She murmured an anguished litany as he lowered his mouth to hers. "Don't. Can't. Shouldn't" But then he was kissing her, moving his lips over hers in a seductive challenge, putting every skill he possessed into the kiss as he tried to strip away time and bad memories and scars, both his and hers.

Sara knotted her fists into his flannel shirt and jerked fiercely, but at the same time she kept her mouth against his and received the thrust of his tongue without resisting. Angry, trembling, she slipped her tongue forward and stroked in return. Kyle groaned and heard her answering pleafor mercy, but also for more.

For one magnificent second he tasted the sweetness and heat he had so often dreamed about, the welcome that he had hoped to provoke in her regardless of his appearance. They shared the culmination of fantasies and promises that needed to be kept. But she drew back, half crying, looked at him with a grimace of regret, and turned her head as if she couldn't stand his ravaged face.

He was speechless for a moment, while his exhilaration drained away and a hollow feeling replaced it. "I guess I settled two doubts at once," he said finally. "I've still got plenty to offer, but you'd rather I didn't offer again."

She nodded at him wearily, her head bowed. "I'm so sorry it has to be this way."

Kyle's emotions hardened into a fist inside his chest. "Don't feel embarrassed. Not long after I came home from Surador a few of my old acquaintances dropped in to visit. They tried to act cheerful, but Sara, you're not the first woman who couldn't quite hide her reaction to my scars. Don't blame yourself."

Her head jerked up. Her eyes glittered with shock. "You think that's why I stopped kissing you?" When he nodded, sorrow and regret filled her eyes. "Oh, Kyle, no."

He stiffened in amazement as she took his face between her hands and quickly brushed her lips over several of the larger scars. She pulled away from him,

shaking her head when he leaned forward again. "No. No more. I mean it, Kyle."

Bewildered and desperate for answers, he frowned at her. "What do you need, Sara? What do you want?"

"Nothing. I'm doing okay," she said with deliberate vagueness. "You can't change my life-style. Someday I'll change it myself, but not now." She glanced at her wristwatch. "Now I have to go. This is the last time I'll see you. I mean it. God bless you, Kyle. I wish things were easier to explain. Good-bye."

She tried to rise to her feet, but he trapped her wrist with a firm grip. Breathing raggedly, Kyle shook his head. "Go into town with me. Have dinner. At least do that much."

"I can't."

He slid around so that he blocked'the exit from the tent. "Then you can stay and talk. There's no reason for you to hurry back to the castle."

"Experiments," she said, staring at him anxiously.

He uttered a cheerful but earthy opinion of her bluff. "I won't kiss you again. I promise. Relax."

"Please. Let me go."

"I'm holding you prisoner for the rest of the afternoon." He gestured around them at the tent's brightly colored walls. "It's not an ugly dungeon. And I don't intend to torture you." He inhaled with a great show of contentment. "Enjoy the sound of the rain. Take your shoes off. Unbuckle that AM-FM-clock-radio-toaster-oven around your wrist."

She curled her legs under her and sat on her heels, her hands clasped on her lap. For a second Kyle had the disturbing notion that she was about to beg for her freedom. "I really did leave a delicate experiment. I don't want it to be alone for more than a few minutes."

"Sara, you can't make me believe that a bunch of plants need your constant attention."

"You make it sound as if I'm growing petunias for my patio. I'm talking about sophisticated laboratory projects."

"All right. You can leave. I'll go with you."

"No!" She ground the word out angrily. "I've visited with you, which is what you said you wanted! I've told you over and over that I'm happy, that I want to be left alone, that I will never let you inside my home! What is it going to take to make you believe me?"

Kyle leveled calm eyes on her. "I don't believe that you're happy any more than I believe that you want to be left alone. I do believe that you have to be forced back into the world."

She leaned toward him, her expression fierce. "I don't want to hurt you. I never want to see anything bad happen to you again. But I have to tell you something." She took a calming breath. "I left a recording on my phone system. It says that an armed man has vandalized my cameras and is now trying to break into my estate." She glanced at her watch. "If I don't get back soon, that recording, complete with my address, is going straight to the county sheriff's office. When he comes to arrest you, I'll add attempted kidnapping and assault to the charges. And I will file charges."

Kyle had to admire her tenacity and resourcefulness. She had a brilliant, stubborn, mysterious mind, and she was a challenge worthy of every skill he possessed. He silently declared war on her. A gentle kind of war, but one without retreat.

"What are you so desperate to protect, Sara?"

She thumped a fist against her leg. "Myself! My sanity! Now let me go!"

He nodded and moved aside. "I'll be leaving as soon as the rain stops."

She froze, gazing at him with shock and, he noted happily, a certain amount of wistfulness. "Really?"

"Really. I've done all I can do. I'll send someone to repair all the camera cables."

Her watch began to beep. "Three-minute warning," she said, distracted and frowning. "I have to hurry."

"Good-bye, Tinker Bell. Take care of yourself." He smiled with just the right degree of stoic cheer. "That was a great kiss. Thanks for making me feel better than I have in a long time."

The tent wasn't tall enough for standing. She crawled to the door and halted, warily watching him. The lonely, almost tragic expression that washed over her face tore at his belly just as the lie about leaving had.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips, kissed them, then brushed them over his mouth. "I'll never forget you," she murmured. She scrambled out of the tent.

Kyle slipped outside and stood in the drenching rain, watching until she disappeared around the curve in the wall. Then he began to pack. And make war plans.