Sun God (37 page)

When both her feet were sand-free, Luiz reached for the canteen. From the row of neatly stacked articles he had taken from the pack, he withdrew a clean white handkerchief. After wetting the handkerchief with a couple of douses of the scarce water, he corked the canteen and turned to her.

Amy’s laughter ceased as the wet handkerchief touched her open lips. Luiz carefully washed her flushed, dusty face, drawing the cloth gently over her cheeks, her chin, her nose. He pressed it to the limp, hot hair above her high forehead; he blotted the wispy hair at her temples; he washed the insides of her small ears.

He lowered the handkerchief to her throat and bathed away the grime and grit. His hand went inside the opening of her soiled blue shirt and Amy felt the cooling cloth move soothingly out over her shoulders, her collarbones, the beginning swell of her bare breasts.

Luiz withdrew the dampened handkerchief.

“Give me your hands,” he commanded.

Amy sat up and presented the right one to him. He gently washed it, and her arm, going up under her shirtsleeve, all the way past her elbow. Then she gave him the left arm.

When he had finished, he tossed the handkerchief aside and reached for a small tin of salve, snapped it open, and dabbed his little finger into it.

He went in search of insect bites on Amy’s pale flesh. His black eyes intense, he examined all her exposed flesh—and some that was covered—and promptly applied the warm, thick salve to even the tiniest of telltale red dots.

Amy was amazed at how swiftly the worrisome itching and stinging vanished. One quick, light touch of his salved fingertip to the tiny bites brought instant relief.

“Ummmm, that feels so good,” she murmured gratefully. “That salve is miraculous. What exactly is it?”

His black eyes never lifting from the ivory arm he was doctoring, Luiz said, “
Iztac-patli.
”

“No wonder I’ve never heard of it.” She smiled.

“It’s an old Aztec medicine made from exotic plants.” He gave her the names of five.

“I see,” she said, and studied his face thoughtfully. Puzzled, she asked, “But where did you get it?”

His face gave nothing away. “I am Aztec.” His black eyes flicked up to hers. “Or had you forgotten?”

“No. No, I hadn’t. But I don’t—”

“Never question the
ticitl.
” His full lips suddenly stretched into a faint smile. “The doctor.”

“No, of course not. But I’m curious where you got the—”

“All done,” he interrupted, and, wiping his hands, recapped the tin of salve.

Amy knew it was useless to continue the questioning. Still, her curiosity remained. Where could he have gotten an ancient Aztec potion made of plants whose names were totally foreign to her?

Her thoughts were pulled from the riddle when Luiz picked up a strong-bristled brush, rose, stepped around her, and sank to the blanket behind her, trapping her between his long legs. For the next half hour he gently brushed away all the snarls and tangles from her long blond hair. When it lay smooth and orderly around her shoulders, he tossed the brush aside.

“Tip your head back a little,” he said.

She did and he pulled all the gleaming gold hair atop her head and then expertly plaited it into one long, plump shiny braid that fell down her back. He took the white leather thong he had laid out and wrapped it around the braid’s tip.

“Isn’t that better?” he asked, leaning his dark face up alongside hers.

She turned her head to the side and looked at him. Smiling, she said, “Much better, thank you. Where did you learn to braid a woman’s hair?”

His reply was a harmless tug on the golden braid and a shrug of wide shoulders. But Amy continued to wonder as he rose to his feet and moved toward the mouth of the cave.

He was too adept at the intimate tasks he had just performed. Far too capable of brandishing a hairbrush and plaiting long hair.

From out of the blue came a worrisome image that had troubled her dozens of times. The unsettling sight of El Capitán and Diana Clayton entering the La Posada Hotel, all smiles. What had happened between them that day? What was continuing to happen between them?

Mentally Amy shook herself. What difference did it make now?

“Better get some rest while you can.” Luiz’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“Yes,” she replied. She drew the long braid over her right shoulder and stretched out on the blanket. “You should rest as well.”

“I will,” he told her, and continued to stand at the cave’s mouth, his gaze sweeping out over the surrounding hills and wide valley below. “Soon as I’m comfortable the Mescaleros haven’t picked up our backtrail.”

“Mmmmm,” Amy murmured, folding her arms beneath her head. She closed her eyes, her breathing soon deepened; she fell asleep. Sometime later in the afternoon, she half awakened. Her arms came down from beneath her head. She laced her hands together atop her stomach. Her eyes partially opening, she saw that Luiz still stood, unmoving, at the cave’s mouth.

Framed alone against the sky, he appeared to be carved from polished stone. The classic male profile, the thick raven hair, the superb physique. He was a magnificent work of art that took her breath away.

For long, enjoyable minutes Amy watched as if in a dream, entranced by his wild masculine beauty, waiting for the slightest movement to prove to her he was actually flesh and blood and not a cold, lifeless sculpture.

After what seemed forever, she caught the minute blinking of his thick black eyelashes. She smiled, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.

Luiz’s dark head swung around.

He knew that she had been watching him. Now he watched her. Watched until he was certain she was sleeping soundly. Satisfied that she slumbered deeply, he reached up behind his head, grabbed the collar of his buckskin shirt, and in one swift movement drew the shirt up over his head and off.

Silently he walked to the blanket. After sinking to his knees, he withdrew the Colt from his waistband, laid it beside the pallet, then leaned over Amy, gently lifted her head, and slipped his folded shirt beneath. Sighing softly in her sleep, she turned onto her side and her lips fell open over perfect white teeth.

Luiz automatically smiled, caught himself, and frowned. He stretched out beside her, folded an arm beneath his head, and draped the other across his bare belly. His aching muscles began to relax. Bone-tired, he felt as if he could sleep forever but knew he could not, that he had to get them down to Terlingua Creek by nightfall or they would be completely without water.

Setting his mental alarm clock for four that afternoon, he closed his scratchy eyes and exhaled heavily.

The exhausted pair slept as morning changed to afternoon and the blazing sun moved across the cloudless sky, steadily changing angles, spilling light more fully into the high mountain cave.

El Capitán had anticipated that occurrence and had placed the blanket accordingly. The sleeping couple remained in cool, dim shadow. All the same, at some point in the hot, still afternoon, Luiz came awake. It was not the sun or the dry heat or the threat of Apaches that disturbed his slumber.

It was Amy.

He had dreamed about her. Had dreamed that her golden hair was so long it reached the floor. Dreamed that they were on a cloud drifting through the heavens. Dreamed that she was naked, but her long, thick hair was spread about her so that he could see nothing of her beauty. Dreamed that he plaited her hair into a long rope of spun gold so he could leisurely admire her bare charms.

She had gladly allowed him to look upon her unclothed beauty and had teasingly tickled him with the long, braided hair, drawing it over his mouth, his chest, his belly until he was weak with wanting her.

But when he reached for her, she smiled strangely, swiftly wrapped the golden braid around his neck, and choked him with it, laughing in his face. The sound of heartless laughter was the last thing he heard as darkness engulfed him.

The dream had been so real Luiz felt his heart pumping violently against the bare skin of his chest. He swiftly turned his head and saw Amy lying there beside him, her face angelic, the golden braid falling over her breasts.

She looked sweet and completely harmless, but she was not. She was the most dangerous woman he had ever known, and he was afraid of her. Foolishly he had let his guard down since the moment he had carried her from the Mescalero camp.

She was getting under his skin.

Again.

He must not let that happen. If he did, he’d have nobody to blame but himself. It was all right for her to wrap her pale arms and legs around his body, so long as she never got her hands on his heart.

Luiz’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Suddenly the impulse to hurt her was so strong in him he was appalled by it. His fists doubling, his entire body tensed with the pressure. At that moment, Amy awakened to see a pair of mean jet eyes looking at her. Alarmed, she rose to an elbow. “Is something wrong?”

A muscle contracted in El Capitán’s dark face. He tore his gaze from her, rolled to a sitting position, and said, “It’s time we leave. We have to get to Terlingua Creek by nightfall.”

Amy had no idea what had caused the complete change in him. She knew only that the kind, caring companion who had doctored her insect bites and braided her hair had been left behind in that high cupped-out mountain crater.

The sullen man walking ahead of her atop a high, flat plateau had not spoken since they had quit the cave. Now, as the sun went down behind the mountains and the thin, dry air began to cool, Amy was dying to know how much farther it was to the creek. But she didn’t dare ask. And he, of course, volunteered nothing.

It was dusk when finally they did reach Terlingua. The sight of all that clean, clear water brought a smile to Amy’s face. Not so the captain. He continued to scowl and avoid her, and when she said, “I know it will be cold, but I’ve a good mind to take a bath,” he shrugged as if he didn’t care what she did.

Well, fine. She didn’t care that he didn’t care. The hell with him. He certainly was not someone whose opinion she valued. Making faces at his rigid back, Amy unrolled the blanket from their pack, tossed it over her arm, and headed around a curve in the creek.

The chill of the water took her breath away, and after only seconds in its icy depths, Amy was sure her body was turning blue. She swam to the bank and climbed out, shivering violently when the night air hit her wet flesh.

She snatched up the blanket and swirled it around her shoulders. Then she stood there, huddled under the blanket, her teeth chattering, her body trembling. She knew she had to get dressed, but she was so cold she couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Amy saw a small reflection of light coming from around the bend where Luiz was setting up camp. Her chilled face lit with a smile. He had built a fire. She could warm herself before she dressed. Eagerly Amy gathered up her clothes and started toward the light.

She came around the creek’s curve, saw him, and stopped before he caught sight of her. Shirtless, he was crouched on his heels feeding kindling to the blaze. Firelight danced on his naked torso. His hair swung forward, black as the night sky.

Luiz felt her presence and came to his feet.

Smiling tentatively and hoping his mood had softened somewhat, Amy started toward him. “The water is icy,” she said conversationally. “I almost froze before I could get out.”

She reached him and realized immediately that nothing had changed. Or it if had, it was for the worse. He looked at her with cold contempt, and there was about him that aura of suppressed violence.

As Luiz looked at Amy, he felt his anger and frustration grow. It seemed she delighted in torturing him. It was evident she was bare beneath the blanket. Apparently she was all too aware of his weakness, knew full well he was incapable of seeing her naked without wanting, needing, having to make love to her.

Damn her to hell!

She would
not
get the better of him. He could govern his emotions—and his hungers—as well as any man alive. Let her strip and dance around the fire for all he cared. He wasn’t about to touch her.

Not tonight.

Not ever again.

H
IS LOW-LIDDED STARE
was colder by far than the water that had left her shivering. A vein throbbed violently on his firelit forehead and an entire network of pulsing veins stood out in bold relief on his long, bronzed arms.

His hands were doubled up into tight fists at his sides and Amy was struck by the notion that he actually wanted to hit her. Instinctively she moved back a few steps.

Out of his reach, she said, “I’ll go back down to the stream and get dressed.”

“Stay where you are,” he ordered evenly. “I’ll turn my back.”

He pivoted about and Amy hurriedly dressed, keeping a wary eye on him. His back to her, Luiz’s black eyes were tightly closed. He ground his teeth viciously. His short fingernails cut into the palms of his hands. He sternly ordered his body not to misbehave.

It didn’t listen.

After what seemed a lifetime to him, Amy said she was dressed. Luiz released a pent-up breath and half turning—but not looking at her—said in clipped tones, “I’m going downstream for a bath.”

The icy water felt good to his tense, fevered body. He swam back and forth across the wide frigid stream until his breath was short, his limbs exhausted, and the raging heat had left him.

In charge once more, he dressed and returned to camp. Across the fire, they shared a silent supper of beans, jerked beef and bread, keeping their eyes on their tin plates. Then slept back to back, each pretending the other did not exist.

Late the next morning, after crossing grassy meadows and endless flats of cactus and creosote, they were at the barrier ridges of the Santiagos. They had not spoken all morning. The tension between them was growing hourly.

Luiz’s pointed coldness had fostered a like chill in Amy. It was obvious that the only thing he wanted was to have her out of his sight. Well, she wanted him to know that the feeling was mutual.

The sun was high and hot when they began the ascent into the rocky, broken country of the Santiago foothills. That’s when the trouble really began. Luiz nimbly climbed over the uneven ground and fallen boulders, showing no mercy, not stopping to offer a hand.