Starlight & Promises (17 page)

In the still, dry air, her plea carried to his ears, for he halted and turned around.

She commanded her aching legs to trot forward until she drew alongside him. “May we take a short break? Your legs are longer than mine, and you are walking too fast. I’m not accustomed to carrying a pack. It hurts my shoulders.”

“An animal expedition has several rules,” he said with a patronizing expression and in a similar tone. “First, to actually
find
animals, you must refrain from talking. Second, this is not a stroll through Regent’s Park. If you cannot keep up the pace because you have shorter legs, walk faster. And third, my pack is heavier than yours. If you wished to carry a lighter load, you should have packed fewer items.”

Her face fell. “But you are larger than me. Your pack
should
be heavier.”

“Do you wish to trade?”

She closed her mouth, though she had a notion to remind him that he had filled the packs, not she.

Turning away, he focused on the horizon. “No? Then allow us to move on—quietly. I want to cover more territory before we stop. We’ll take a break about an hour from now.” He nodded toward a steep ridge in the distance.

She groaned and shifted the pack, moving it a scant inch off the grooves in her shoulders.

When he finally called a halt in a depression shaded by a line of stunted trees straggling along a creek, Samantha dropped her pack with a grimace. She stumbled past him and knelt beside the creek, cupping her hands and splashing water over her face and neck.

He allowed her to rest for an hour before he stood and came to her side. “Ready?”

She mumbled to herself and struggled to her feet.

Christian walked to the creek and dipped his canteen into the water before taking off at a more modest speed. Samantha missed his detour as she fought with her pack and tried to find the least painful position. Three hours out into the hot sun, she ran out of water. “Chris, may I have a drink of your water? My canteen is empty.”

“Rule number four, always fill your canteen when you have access to fresh water. You never know how far you might have to walk to the next water hole. Next time, use your head.” In spite of his chastising words, he passed her his canteen and allowed her to drink.

B
y the time they made camp, light was fleeing rapidly on the short-lived heels of a tropical dusk. The lowering sun hit the cacti, throwing Brobdingnagian shadows—like the giant characters in
Gulliver’s Travels
—stretching across the barren plain. Samantha staggered, and sweat drenched her clothes. She could not even remove the pack. When she raised her arms, cramping pain seized her shoulders and back.

Christian came over and lifted the pack. “Why did you not tell me the straps were cutting into your shoulders?” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

Tears of pain stung her eyes. She turned to look at the bloodstains on her shirt. “I thought you knew.”

His eyes darkened. “Devil take it! Had I known, I would have called a halt before now. Slip down your shirt. Those cuts need treating.”

Too tired and in too much pain to argue, she unbuttoned the shirt, eased it off her shoulders, and grimaced at the wide, raw patches on her skin. When he wet a handkerchief and cleaned the bloody stripes, she whimpered and flinched away.

“I know it hurts, but I have to clean the injury, or infection will set in.” He reached into his pack and withdrew a brown bottle. “Now clench your teeth, because this may burn.”

When he poured the weak solution of carbolic acid on the open wounds, she bit back a scream, and wetness streamed down her cheeks. She dragged in a shuddering breath. “It hurts terribly now.”

“Wait a minute, and the pain will ease.” He left her to tramp through the area beyond the campsite.

She could not believe her eyes. What was he doing now? Chasing after some animal while she was suffering? She failed to keep the angry edge from her question. “What are you looking for?”

“Aloe. Ah, here’s one.” He returned with a fat leaf in his hand that had a waxy skin, silver green with spiked edges. He squeezed it until a clear, jellylike sap oozed from its cut edge and rubbed the substance over her wounds. An immediate cooling seeped into her skin. After a short while, the pain ebbed to a dull ache.

“How does it feel now?”

She allowed a smile to creep over her mouth. “Better.”

“Capital. You can collect wood for the fire. However, don’t stray from my sight. Have a care where you step and what you grab. Snakes can resemble branches.”

Her good humor fled, and she sent him a goggle-eyed look. Was that a hint of mercy in his features? If so, it swiftly disappeared.

“I hardly expect you to carry the wood on your shoulders,” he continued. “A minor injury should not excuse you from your fair share of work.”

After she had collected enough firewood for a dozen campfires, he demonstrated the technique for starting a fire using twigs and dry grass. “Why go to all that trouble?” she asked. “Why not simply use lucifers?”

He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Matches become wet, and you might not have any. A fire could mean the difference between life and death. You must become competent with alternative methods and using the materials at hand.” As soon as small flames appeared, he smothered them and handed her the twigs. “Now you do it,” he said, rising. “I’ll hunt for dinner. I expect to find a fire when I return.”

“Chris—” He vanished before she could finish her objection. The infuriating man moved as quickly as a chameleon. She stared at the twigs, thinking perhaps she should have paid closer attention to Christian’s rambling. Images of sleep, a bath, and a ten-course meal had caused her mind to drift while he droned on about twigs and fire. Never did she believe he would expect
her
to do it.

When Christian returned, Samantha still sat in front of the fire pit, her right thumb in her mouth, biting on the nail. The twigs lay undisturbed on the ground. He halted and silently studied her, aware of what she was going through. He recalled his maiden voyage into the field. Her pain and frustration were genuine. Why could he not simply carry her pack and start the fire? Remembering his ultimate motive, he shook his head as though to suppress the urge to give in to the sight of her misery. She would learn naught if he were to make her wilderness jaunt a pleasurable stroll. Capitulation now would ruin his intentions. He supposed he could slow down the pace … a bit. She
was
considerably smaller than he. Perhaps he would remove a few items from her pack. He could still make his point by the time they returned to the ship. His goal was to discourage her, not kill her.

“Aren’t you a bit old to be sucking your thumb?” he said from directly behind her.
I have something else you can put in your mouth
, the devil on his shoulder suggested.

She jerked out her thumb. When she looked over her shoulder, he arched a brow. “I cannot help but notice we don’t yet have a roaring fire.”

“The twigs declined to cooperate,” she said in a sullen voice. “I have no option but to believe you gave me defective wood.”

He suppressed the smile tugging at his mouth and sat on the ground beside her. “Then I suppose we’ll have to eat our dinner raw.” He pulled out a wriggling grasshopper from a pouch hanging at his belt. “But I must admit they taste better roasted.”

Her eyes opened as wide as saucers. She scrambled away, her knees churning up the sandy ground. “That is a bug!” she screeched. “I will not eat bugs. I care not what you do to me, but you’ll not force me to eat a bug!”

He couldn’t control his grin. “Sam, Sam, calm down. What did you expect? My returning to camp with lamb stew and meat pasties slung over my shoulder? Bugs are less disgusting than you might imagine. They’re full of energy. You enjoy lobster, do you not? And shrimp and crayfish? All are arthropods, exactly like this grasshopper. Sometimes insects may be the only meal you can capture.”

“No!” she yelled, her eyes filled with fire. “You cannot trick me. I will not eat bugs!”

He popped the insect into his mouth and made a production of crunching and swallowing it.

She shuddered, her face turning green, leapt to her feet, and ran into the bushes. He heard her vomiting and shook his head. After extracting a box of lucifers from his pack, he started a fire. He caught her voice at intervals, still defiant, coming from the camp perimeter. “I will not eat bugs! You cannot make me! I shall starve first!”

Having checked the surrounding area for snakes and other hazards, Christian allowed her to crash about beyond the fire’s circle for an hour. Meanwhile, he cleaned the fish he had caught, spitted them, and grilled them over the flames.

“Sam, dinner is ready. Return to camp before you hurt yourself in the dark.”

“You cannot force me to eat!” she shouted from wherever she was hiding.

“If you say so, but this fish looks tasty.”

“Fish?” Within a heartbeat, she stormed up behind him with a leafy branch clutched in both hands. It smacked him across the shoulders, over the head, and on his back. By the time he made it to his feet and wrestled the weapon away from her, she managed to smite him with more than a few hard licks.

Her hair escaped the braid she had fashioned this morning and whirled in a chaotic storm about her head. She pushed the strands out of her face, features contorted with rage. Her eyes snapped, and she pointed a shaky finger at him. “You did this on purpose! You had no intention of having me eat bugs. You are trying to frighten me and convince me to quit this expedition. The same with your walking too fast and giving me a pack too heavy for me to carry. But I will not! I will not quit! No matter what evil schemes you have in your twisted mind, I refuse to buckle under to your attempts at intimidation!”

She tossed her head, and her butterscotch hair went flying. Her face glowed as red as the campfire, eyes wild and dark. Christian had never seen her looking so beautiful. A disturbing ache settled inside his chest, right around the region of his heart.

“I should have known”—she sucked in a ragged breath—”you would not take me on an excursion because you believed I might enjoy it, or because you wished to be nice to me, or wanted to spend time with me. You are the cruelest, most devious, most obnoxious, insufferable man I have ever had the misfortune to meet.” Tears painted muddy tracks down her dusty cheeks. “And I hate you, Christian Badia!” she sobbed. “I hate you!”

He caught her shoulders and gathered her shaking body into his arms. While he stroked her back, her sobs subsided to hiccups. All this brouhaha over a grasshopper? He had expected revulsion, perhaps anger, but not hysteria. Perhaps he had pushed her too far. The situation wasn’t working out quite as he had planned. He wiped her face with his handkerchief. “You’re quite right. I
did
want you to give up. I now realize you desire this too greatly to crumble at the slightest obstacle. I promise, no more games. Instead, I’ll teach you what you need to know to survive and help out on the expedition.”

When she looked up, hopefulness combined with wariness lined her features. “You truly mean what you say? This promise of yours is not another trick?”

He put genuine warmth into his smile. “Honestly. No more tricks. We’ll see how well you get along. If I’m satisfied you’ll be safe in the field without constant supervision, you may accompany us. I vow to keep an open mind and grant you every chance to succeed. When we reach Hobart, we’ll discuss it.”

She pulled back from him and grinned. “Wonderful. Let us eat. I’m starved!”

He suffered a pang of loss when her warm body left his arms. “Help yourself.” He gestured at the fish. “You’ll find tin plates and utensils in my pack.” While she retrieved the eating implements, he brought out a bag of native fruit he had picked earlier.

He handed her a wrinkled green fruit. She gave him a cautious smile, and her eyes narrowed. “Is it edible?”

“You’ll like it. It’s sweet.”

She bit into the fruit, and juice ran down her chin. “Delicious,” she said, a mouthful of fruit and tender fish garbling her words.

Christian had the sudden, inexplicable urge to lick the stickiness from her skin. He barely prevented himself from acting on his desires.

While they finished their meal, the sky became ebony and the stars sharp and bright, true darkness falling over the desert. Samantha looked up with wonder written across her face. “I never imagined such an absolute night could exist. The stars are so incredibly brilliant and close. I do believe I can catch one.” She stretched out an arm and pretended to grab a star and put it in her pocket. Throwing him a triumphant glance, she laughed.

She skipped through the camp, catching stars as though they were fireflies, and his throat tightened at her pixielike play. She was too alluring tonight. He tried to tell himself she was merely a girl, not yet fully grown, but he knew better. A woman’s fire ran through the veins of her small body and ignited him whenever he drew close. Part girl, part woman; he wanted it all. Carnal thoughts bedeviled him, and he consigned them to the recesses of his mind.