Читать книгу Twilight Crossing - Susan Krinard - Страница 11

Chapter 3

At first light, Timon and his Riders gathered their charges and started south on the well-worn track parallel to old Route 101. The highway itself was buckled and pierced by shrubs and small trees, making travel over the old asphalt difficult.

The pace was slow, as Timon had expected. The horses drawing the three wagons moved at a deliberate pace, since the delegation had only one set of replacement animals for each, and the people walking their mounts beside the wagons were just as slow. It was better that way; Timon wanted them fit for the entire journey, not worn at the end of it.

He had been riding beside Councilman Parks for some distance, learning all he could about the delegation and the San Francisco Enclave. In all his time as a Rider, he’d never been part of an escort for the coastal Enclave, perhaps because the humans there kept largely to themselves.

Like Jamie McCullough.

Timon fell back, reining his horse toward the rear of the caravan. She rode quietly beside one of the middle wagons, constantly scanning the low, oak-studded hills and the marshes alongside the southern stretch of San Francisco Bay, occasionally jotting in her small notebook.

Keeping his distance, Timon considered what was wrong with him. From the moment he and Jamie had met beneath the oak, when he had helped her to her feet and looked into her wide blue eyes, he had felt a shock of attraction. It hadn’t seemed to be such an odd reaction at the time; she was stunningly lovely in spite of her seeming lack of awareness of her own attractiveness. Her dark, wavy hair hung past her shoulders, though she had worn it in a severe ponytail or braid since their first encounter; her face was a near-perfect oval, with full lips and slightly arched brows that ideally suited the shape of her eyes. She was petite, but her body was curved in all the right places, and she moved with a natural grace.

A scientist, he thought as he maneuvered his mount to the other side of the wagon. Officially, Parks had told him, she was both his aide and one of the medics accompanying the equipment that was to be the core of a human infirmary at the Conclave. The Councilman spoke with pride of her work in the laboratory, searching for cures for human diseases.

But she obviously was naive. She had no skill at hiding her feelings or guarding her words, and the way she’d behaved with Timon hinted at something more than mere inexperience with half-bloods. Her outburst about donating blood told him that either she’d been more deeply affected by her brush with the “raiders” than even he had guessed...or something else had happened to make her fear the act.

Many humans did, associating the giving of blood with slavery and compulsion. But it seemed personal with her, and he had no desire to make her more afraid of him.

There was no reason he should be riding so near her now, studying her profile and the way she frowned slightly when she made a notation. Especially when he considered the other women he’d known, in the settlements or among the Wanderers he and other Riders often met in their travels. The experienced, worldly women who were all too happy to accommodate his needs while he happily accommodated theirs.

If Jamie had been different, if she’d been anything like those other women...

But then there was Cahill.

Timon looked forward to where the Senator was riding near the head of the column as if he himself were leading it. He hadn’t quite figured out the Senator’s relationship with Jamie. Most of the time Cahill left her alone, but every so often he would ride back and lecture her as if she was obligated to listen to and obey every word he spoke. Cahill told her, wrongly, that she held the reins incorrectly; he chastised her for falling behind when she dropped back to the middle of the column. And there was an air of possessiveness about him that had aroused Timon’s immediate dislike, though he shouldn’t care one way or another what the humans did among themselves as long as it didn’t endanger the party.

Realizing that he’d been glaring at Cahill’s erect back, he looked toward Jamie again. The horse was still there, walking placidly beside the wagon, but the rider had vanished.

Timon reined Lazarus behind the wagon and rode around it, coming up beside Jamie’s mount. She wasn’t with the animal. He continued toward the rear of the column and Ajax, the Brother riding drag, searching for Jamie with a vague sense of alarm.

He found her crouched at the side of the track, her fingers picking through the green spring grass. She plucked a golden poppy and examined it with great concentration, then set it aside and made a quick sketch of it in her notebook.

With a whispered command to his horse, Timon slid out of the saddle. Jamie looked up as his shadow fell over her, scrambled backward and landed squarely on her rump. A deep red flush tinted her creamy skin.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

It took a moment for Timon to realize that he had been frowning. “It isn’t wise for you to fall behind the column,” he said, offering his hand.

She stared at it as if it were a striking rattlesnake. “I haven’t fallen behind,” she said. “I was only—” Her bright gaze flashed toward the last wagon, pulling away at a steady pace. “Oh.”

He relaxed. “Being absentminded is an indulgence you can’t afford,” he said. “No matter how fascinating you find the local flora.”

Ignoring his offer of help, she jumped to her feet. “I didn’t intend to be so long.”

“Are you always so caught up in your work?”

“I’m not really a botanist,” she said, her voice rising with enthusiasm, “but there are only two in the entire Enclave, and they’ll want to know—” She bit her lip and scooped up her notebook. “I won’t let it happen again.”

He wanted to laugh at her grave pronouncement, but he knew it would sound too much like mockery. “The only way we can protect you is if you stay together,” he said.

“I understand.” She brushed off her pants. “I tied my horse to the wagon. It won’t take me long to catch up.”

“Let’s walk,” Timon said. He gave a short whistle through his teeth, and Lazarus stepped up to thrust his head between Timon and Jamie. He nibbled on Jamie’s hair, and she made a little sound of surprise.

“Lazarus likes you,” Timon said. “That’s quite a compliment.”

“Oh?” she asked with a smile that caught him utterly off guard. “Is he so fearsome, then?”

“Only to enemies.”

She cupped her hand over the horse’s nose. “He’s a very fine horse.”

“Is that your vast experience talking?”

Her smile faded. “Are you teasing me again?”

“I know that you’ve spent your entire life in the Enclave, curing human diseases.”

“Looking for cures, yes.” She began to walk after the last wagon. “It’s a very slow process.”

“And you’ve been happy inside your laboratory?” Timon asked, falling in behind her with Lazarus in tow.

She stopped abruptly and met his gaze. “We don’t know each other very well, Mr. Timon, but I don’t imagine that my happiness can be of much concern to you.”

“You value learning for its own sake.”

She pushed her hair away from her face, leaving a smudge of dirt across her temple. It only enhanced her beauty. “You speak as if the desire to learn is a freakish aberration,” she said.

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Easy,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t,” she said in an offhand manner that was far from convincing.

He brought Lazarus to stand beside her. “We’re falling farther behind.” He stretched out his hand. “Ride with me.”

High color flooded her cheeks again, but when he looked into her eyes, he knew it wasn’t from fear. He felt a jolt of awareness spark between them.

The feeling passed in an instant, but Timon knew in that instant everything had changed. Now he could hear the rapid beat of her heart, sense the blood pumping through veins and arteries; he felt drawn to her in a way he never had before, not even when he’d first met her. And she stared at him as if she had never seen his face, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, her eyes wide with sudden realization.

He was certain Jamie had never been with any man. But she was overwhelmed by feelings her rational mind clearly didn’t comprehend. Yet her body knew the truth, on a very primal level that had nothing to do with logic. She was just beginning to grasp what it told her.

And she was fighting that knowledge with every scrap of determination she possessed.

Perhaps that was why she took his hand, let him pull her up behind him into the saddle and put her arms around his waist as he urged Lazarus into a gentle canter. She had something to prove to herself.

Timon could guess what it was. She had set herself the task of observing, of remaining objective. Any strong emotion—fear, anger, desire most of all—interfered with that task.

As they rode, Timon felt her breath on the nape of his neck, the press of her breasts against his back, the roundness of her thighs rocking behind his. He could smell her hair and her skin and her clothing, a rich mélange of intoxicating scents it was impossible to ignore.

He slowed Lazarus as they caught up to Jamie’s mount, who nickered and tossed his head in greeting. Timon helped Jamie dismount and watched her climb into the saddle.

“You do that very well,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice perfectly steady. “The technique isn’t so difficult to learn, once you understand it.”

“And what do you do when you can’t understand something?”

“I keep working until I do.”

Timon wondered if she’d put so much effort into learning the joys of lovemaking. It would be another new world for her to explore, and the man who guided her through that world...

Would not be him. Jamie had far more sense than he did. He had no business lusting after a woman under his band’s care, especially not one who might have some kind of obligation to another man.

Even an arrogant bastard like Cahill.

“Thank you,” she said, calling him back to himself.

“For what?” he asked, keeping Lazarus well away from her mount as they rode side by side.

“For what you did last night. For making sure I was all right.”

He looked straight ahead, ignoring the dust rising from the track ahead of them. “It’s my business,” he said.

“But I was afraid.”

“You can’t be brave without fear.”

“You speak as if you know what that feels like.”

The conversation was becoming too personal for Timon’s liking. He began to pull ahead.

“Don’t fall behind again,” he called over his shoulder.

If she answered, he didn’t hear. He kicked Lazarus into a gallop and shot forward along the column, past Parks and Cahill and up to the Rider who had taken the lead. Orpheus glanced at Timon, raised his eyebrows, and waited companionably for Timon to fall in beside him.

“Trouble with the humans?” he asked.

Timon schooled his features. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he said.

Orpheus tossed long blond hair out of his eyes. “It’s true that I’ve never seen you have any difficulties with women before.”

With a brief laugh, Timon scratched Lazarus between the ears. “If you’re referring to Parks’s goddaughter, you’ve lost your mind.”

“She is rather beautiful, if you like the quiet type,” he said. “Which, come to think of it, you usually don’t.”

Timon wanted nothing more but to set off on a hard ride well ahead of the column, just to clear his mind and feel the freedom of nothing but open space before him. “The problem with Ms. McCullough,” he said, “is that she’s inexperienced enough to be reckless with her own safety.”

“Ah.” Orpheus nodded as if he understood everything perfectly. “Well, we knew what we were getting into.”

“I’ve seen no sign that any of them guessed that the raiders were our own people in disguise,” Timon said.

“Why should they?” Orpheus glanced over his shoulder. “We needed a way of learning their secrets, and now they think they owe us their lives. They’ll be that much more cooperative.”

“It’ll have to be done very carefully,” Timon said, a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I’ve already spoken to most of the people in the delegation, and a few look promising. But if you have a rapport with the McCullough girl, you should exploit it. Especially if she is so inexperienced.”

Timon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t like it,” he said. “Cassius never told us who hired us to spy on these people. That isn’t what we do, Orpheus.”

“I know.” Orpheus shrugged. “Our first mission is to get these humans safely to New Mexico. If the San Francisco delegation means some harm to the Conclave, it’s bound to become obvious over the next two months.”

“The fate of the Conclave isn’t our business.”

“We’re Riders. We don’t take sides. But we can’t pretend that a permanent peace won’t affect us.”

“If it happens, there’s no point in worrying about it.”

“And there’s the Timon I know. I was beginning to think you’d turned into Cassius.”

“He can have the leadership as long as we have our freedom.”

“But we still have our duty,” Orpheus said.

Timon wheeled Lazarus around. “We’ll make camp in two hours. I’ll send Bardas ahead to meet the three who are rejoining us.”

He rode back the way he’d come, Orpheus’s words echoing in his head. If you have a rapport with the girl, you should exploit it.

His duty. If he chose to exploit the intense attraction between him and Jamie, he would be turning her apparent innocence against her. Surely she couldn’t know about any dangerous “secrets” hidden by the delegation.

But if she did...

He paused briefly to speak with Parks, ignored Cahill and looked for Jamie again. She was riding beside the two other medics, showing them her notebook as she chattered enthusiastically about some sketch she had made.

He had more than enough skill to seduce her, especially when she obviously had little defense against such attentions. Still, he didn’t know if that was the best way to get close enough to her to question her without giving up the game. A game he most certainly didn’t want to play.

He was bound by the Brotherhood’s oath to protect her as well as all the others in the delegation. But who would protect her from him?