Wolf (19 page)

* * * *

Sylvie wasn’t certain if Beau—Maurice Michel Beauregard—had been ordered to keep her occupied or if he’d interpreted his watch duty to include entertainment, but he kept her well occupied. They spent the first day in bed for the most part, dozing, making love, and sometimes merely cuddling together while they exchanged childhood misadventures, achievements, and disappointments. It rained harder the second day than it had the first, but he spent most of it wandering the woods in search of a kill to feed them and she spent most of the day staring glumly out the window at the rain, wishing it would stop, and wondering if Mac and the others had reached the rendezvous point. She knew Beau didn’t wander far. He reappeared periodically to check on her, always with an excuse for why he’d needed to come back—to get firewood inside before all of it was completely soaked, because he’d forgotten to take a bottle of water with him, or he’d thought he’d heard her call him. It was after dark when he finally came back with one of the small wild pigs that seemed abundant in the area. She thought he might not have had to spend the entire day hunting if he hadn’t felt the need to stay so close to keep an eye on her, but she kept her thoughts to herself. He looked chilled and worn out when he dropped to his knees to build a fire and Sylvie hurried to get the extra coverlet from the bed and fussed over him until he dragged her down on his lap. “Stop fussing over me, woman!” he said irritably. “I don’t need mothering.”

Sylvie supposed, later, that if she hadn’t felt so uncomfortably conscious of the difference in their ages, she wouldn’t have taken it badly, but she was and it was more than just a sting. She struggled with a mixture of embarrassment and hurt. “Ok. Sorry.”

He tightened his hold on her when she tried to get up. He made a sound of disgust. “Hell! Baby, doan look at me like that! I’m just hungry and pissed off in general. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Sylvie subsided, wanting to believe it hadn’t had anything to do with her.

“Why?”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Took all fuckin’ day to get one scrawny pig,” he muttered. “And I was beginnin’ to think I wouldn’t get that.”

She stroked her fingers through his hair. It was hanging nearly to his shoulders in wet ringlets. “It’s because you didn’t want to get too far from me, isn’t it?”

He sent her a sharp look. “Hell no! The bastards are just gettin’ cagey.”

“The rain isn’t helping either, is it? It’s making it harder to track them.”

He sent her a look of surprise. She kissed his nose and got up decisively. “Let’s cut it into smaller pieces so it’ll cook faster. I’m starving, too. It’s rained almost two days straight. Maybe it’ll clear a little tomorrow? You should be able to track them easily considering how muddy everything is.”

It was still raining the following morning when they woke, but not as heavily and by midmorning the skies cleared enough for a few weak rays of sun to peek through.

Beau went out before she even awoke. He was back by noon, this time carrying two pigs, one on either shoulder.

He was grim for all that and Sylvie felt her belly tighten with anxiety.

“Something’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “I doan know.”

Sylvie followed him into the cabin. “Mac and the others are supposed to be back
107

today, right?”

He didn’t look at her. Instead, he focused on building a fire in the hearth. “That’s what he said.”

Moving to the board that served as a counter when he had the fire going, he set about butchering his kill, cutting both into thin slices of meat as they had the night before.

“But?”

He stopped what he was doing finally, stabbed his knife into the pig, and rinsed his hands in the bucket of water she’d brought in earlier. “We need to be out of here before nightfall if they doan show.”

Sylvie felt a knot form in her throat. “But they could’ve been delayed by anything!”

His lips tightened. “Unfortunately,
chère
, they could have.”

She stared at him in dawning horror. “You think something’s happened, don’t you?”

“It’s not my place to guess,” he said tightly. “Orders were to make sure I got you someplace safe jus’ in case.” He shook his head. “I should’ve had you out of here by daybreak.”

Sylvie looked around the cabin a little blankly and finally dropped weakly into one of the chairs. “But … what if they come back and we’re gone?”

“They’ll follow us.”

He said it with such conviction that Sylvie felt an immediate lessening in the tightness in her chest. She still wanted to weep and wail and argue with him, but she could see he was worried himself. Being difficult wasn’t going to change anything or help matters. “What should I do?”

“Cook the meat while I cut. Make sure it’s thoroughly cooked, but just done. We can’t afford to waste anymore time than necessary to get it ready for the trail. We’ll need to move fast, at least at first. When we’ve put a little distance between us and the cabin, we can spare the time for me to hunt.”

Nodding numbly, she got the pan out and took what he’d cut already, crouching on the hearth to tend the cooking meat. When Beau had finished, he cleaned his knife and handed it to her. Striding to the bag he’d brought with him, he dumped the contents on the floor, checked it, tossed a few things away and put the remainder back in the bag.

He moved around the cabin then, grabbing a few things here and there and finally disappeared outside. When he came back, he had the tissue, soap, and shampoo they’d gotten for her. He shoved them into the bag.

Placing his hands on his hips when he straightened again, he surveyed the cabin and finally strode to the bed. She watched him as he folded the blanket they’d acquired and then rolled a pillow in it. He tore the old quilt into strips, used them to secure the bundle he’d made and then hefted it, apparently judging the weight. He glanced at her speculatively. “Think you can carry this without too much trouble?”

She got up and crossed the room, pushing her arms through the loops he’d made and checking the weight on her back. “I think so.”

“We’ll take it, then. If it rains again, we’ll probably have to ditch it, but it’s worth a try. It’ll be better than sleepin’ on the ground.”

Moving the canvas bag and the bedroll to a spot on the floor near the door, he
108

joined her at the hearth. They ate meat as it cooked. Beau was so clearly anxious, though, that it was all Sylvie could do to choke anything down. He paced while he ate and then disappeared outside again.

Between her jitteriness and her distress over what could’ve happened to delay Mac’s return, Sylvie managed to burn herself twice before he returned. After examining what she’d managed to cook, he took another square of the quilt, bundled it up and then tossed the water from the bucket onto the fire, extinguishing it. He stirred it for a moment, checking to make certain he’d completely doused the fire and finally straightened.

“Ready,
chère
?”

Nodding a little jerkily, Sylvie led the way, picking up the bundle he’d made for her and slipping her arms beneath the straps. To her surprise, he picked her up once they were outside, carrying her. She looked at him questioningly.

“One set of footprints,” he said succinctly. “My footprints lead up to the cabin and away in a dozen directions. As long as they doan see two pair, they’ll keep lookin’

for a bit—I hope.”

“Who’ll keep looking?” Sylvie asked uneasily.

He sent her a look.

Sylvie felt a cold wave of fear wash over her. A horrible sense of loss followed it.

She chased it to the back of her mind, refusing to believe anything could’ve happened to Mac, Hawk, and Cavanaugh. It was just inconceivable that it could have. “Won’t it make it hard for Mac and the others to find us, too?” she asked in a quavering voice.

“No. Mac knows where I’m taking you.”

Sylvie blinked at him. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home, chère.”

“My home? Or your home?”

“Our home,
chère
,” he said gruffly.

Sniffing back the urge to cry, Sylvie tightened her arms around his shoulders and burrowed her face against his neck.

* * * *

It seemed to Sylvie that Beau had carried her miles before he finally decided they’d gone far enough to throw off any possible hunters. They didn’t stop to rest but kept moving steadily northward. Fear rode Sylvie so hard the first few hours that it didn’t leave much room for discomfort but eventually physical misery began to eat away at the dark anxieties swirling in her mind, the fear that they were being hunted and what they might face if they were caught. And the fear that something awful had happened to Mac and the others. They stopped briefly toward sunset to attend their personal needs and eat a little of the meat they’d brought with them but set out again as soon as they’d rested a little. It made Sylvie all the more uneasy, but she kept her thoughts to herself. When it finally grew so dark she began to stumble along blindly behind Beau, he stopped, hefted her onto his back and kept moving.

She hated being such a burden to him, but she didn’t have his ability to see well at night. Eventually, in spite of her anxiety, exhaustion got the better of her and she dozed off. Beau woke her after a time when he finally stopped. She wilted to the ground when he’d set her on her feet, too loopy from sleep to have any idea where she was. Taking the
109

bundle from her back, he spread the blanket, dragged her onto it and curled up with her.

She felt like she’d barely closed her eyes when he woke her again and told her it was time to move. She followed him more or less on autopilot for hours before she finally woke up enough to notice anything.

Not that there was anything to notice! They were surrounded by jungle. Every blade of grass and every tree looked the same to her.

They ran out of the meat they’d brought with them by the end of the second day.

Sylvie was too exhausted to care beyond the hope that Beau would park her somewhere and leave to kill something.

He didn’t. Instead, he dragged spoons and a couple of cans from the bag, used his knife to open the cans, plunged a spoon in, and handed her one. It was some kind of beans. “Well,” Sylvie muttered, “I don’t guess we’ll have to worry about the wildlife tonight.”

Beau choked and then chuckled when he’d caught his breath. “I’ll pretend I’m deaf and have no sense of smell,
chère
.”

“Yeah? What will I do?” she retorted, smiling tiredly.

“Pretend the frogs are loud and there’s a polecat nearby.”

She chuckled. “
My
the frogs are loud tonight!”

He sent her an amused look but sobered. “Poor baby! You look exhausted.”

She sighed. “I’m alright.”

He stroked her cheek. “Tomorrow, I think, it will be safe enough to have a fire.

We’ll roast a pig, and then I’ll let you sleep until you’re rested.”

It sounded heavenly, although she was doubtful she would ever want pork again if she ever got home. She hadn’t really allowed herself to think in those terms. She was too tired most of the time and too scared when she wasn’t exhausted to think much beyond the moment. She also didn’t want to think about it because she wasn’t ready to face the very real possibility that she might never see Mac again, or Hawk, or Cavanaugh, and worse, might never know what had become of them. As much as it had pained her, before, to think they’d eventually tire of having to take care of her and dump her somewhere, she’d never thought of a future without them in any other terms. She couldn’t bring herself to do so now.

Something had certainly happened or they would’ve returned. Mac had said he would and she didn’t believe he would lie to her, but it was still possible that they’d simply been delayed by something—maybe even nothing more threatening than the weather. If they had walked into a trap—well, they could get themselves out of just about anything, she assured herself. If they’d escaped some sort of trap, though, Mac wouldn’t have headed back to the cabin because he wouldn’t have wanted to risk leading the hunters to her and Beau.

It was as simple as that.

And she didn’t really believe it.

At the same time, she felt that nothing bad could’ve happened to them or she would’ve known it, would’ve felt it. They’d become too much a part of her life to simply cease to exist without her feeling it as keenly as she would’ve if she’d lost a part of herself.

Beau kept his promise. Although they barely broke to rest throughout the day, he began looking for a campsite as the sun began to set and finally chose a site near a small
110

stream, the first they’d come upon since they’d left the cabin. Beau strictly forbade her to go down to bathe until he’d returned, but promised to take her himself when he did.

He even relented enough to gather brush to soften their pallet for the night.

Cautioning her to stay near the fire until he got back, and to call for him if anything did get curious enough, or nervy enough to approach, he kissed her and disappeared into the gathering gloom. Sylvie settled to wait, trying to stave off the exhaustion dragging at her to tend the fire. With the best will in the world, though, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting closed. Eventually, she dozed. She wasn’t certain if it was the sense of falling that woke her or the sharp snap of a twig nearby, but she jerked awake to discover the fire had nearly burned out.

Whipping a frightened look around at the blackness surrounding her, she began tossing sticks into the fire a little frantically. To her relief, it surged up hungrily the moment she fed the dried sticks and brush to it, but her relief was short lived. In the burst of light the leaping flames gave off, she caught the gleam of a pair of eyes staring straight at her.

Her heart surged painfully against her chest. “Beau?” she whispered shakily, searching blindly for a stick as she saw the eyes moving closer. Finally, her hand closed on the end of one of the sticks in the fire. Snatching it up, she surged to her feet.

“Maurice!”

The eyes disappeared abruptly and she searched the brush around her frantically for some sign of where it had gone. She discovered then that there were three shadowy figures moving toward her.

“It’s alright, Sylvie. It’s us.”

She couldn’t breathe for a moment. “Mac?”

She didn’t wait for confirmation. She knew his voice. Dropping the burning club back into the fire, she raced toward him.

It was fortunate for her that he’d rushed to meet her. She was as blind as a bat by the time she’d raced past the fire. She tripped and fell over a bush. Mac managed to catch her before she sprawled on the ground. He chuckled even as he dragged her into a tight embrace. His amusement had vanished by the time he set her on her feet. “Where’s Beau?” he asked grimly.

“I am here,
mon ami
,” Beau responded from the brush a few yards away.

Sylvie glanced uneasily from Mac to Beau, but when she saw Mac relax, she turned to greet Hawk and Cavanaugh enthusiastically.

“I should go back for my kill before somethin’ else decides I’ve left a free meal,”

Beau said as they moved toward the campsite.

“I’ll come with you,” Cavanaugh offered. “We’ll probably need to bring something else down.”

Sylvie was so thrilled to see them alive and well it took all she could do to keep her hands to herself when they’d settled around the campfire. Luckily for her, Mac seemed as anxious to reassure her as she was to be reassured. He dragged her closer as soon as they’d settled, nuzzling her neck and then treating her to a deeply satisfying kiss.

She would’ve liked a good bit more, but she was suddenly acutely conscious of the fact that she’d been traveling hard for days and was in desperate need of a bath.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to take me down to the stream for a bath?”

she said a little uncomfortably.

111

“That bad, huh?” he murmured with amusement.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said a little tartly. “But I’m badly in need myself.”

He sent her a heated look. “I’m pretty badly in need, too.”

“Bath first!” Sylvie said, scrambling away from him and digging through the bag for her toiletries.

112