Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar

by Lindsay McKenna

  So you see, the scales are balanced now. You rescued me when I was ready, more than ready, to leave my life, my mission, behind. Only your undying love, your unselfish heart, taught me the difference, taught me what was really important. Now I’ve done the same for you. I was more than willing to give my life for yours. You are no less important than me. Your power, your commitment to doing good in this world, equals mine in every way. That is why we are together now. We have earned this gift from the universe, from the great Mother Goddess, to finally be with one another. Jaguar people have only one mate for life, beloved. You are my mate. I pray that when you awake and come back fully into your body, that you are able to walk beyond your fear and reach out to me. Let my love dissolve those fears you will have to face. Let me help you now, as you helped me….

  Where did reality begin and hallucinations end? Ann wasn’t sure as she managed, finally, to force her eyes open to bare slits. At first there was only darkness, but gradually, over heartbeats of time, she began to make out light from shadow. She knew on some deep level of herself that she had one foot in each world. Only the stroking motion against her cheeks, the wet hotness of tears trailing down her flesh, told her that she was still very much alive.

  Ever so gradually the light and dark began to take different shapes and forms. Ann fought to keep her eyes open, but it was such a tremendous battle. Struggling, she felt a shift against her hip and thigh. What…? The movement was slight, but enough to snag her wandering attention. Lifting her lids a bit more, she saw huge black pupils ringed in deep blue staring back at her. Her heart opened and joy cascaded through her. She knew these tender, burning eyes; the love reflected in them matched her own.

  With agonizing slowness her vision cleared and, the face that held those eyes came into focus. It was Mike Houston. He was here with her. Her sluggish mind whispered that it was impossible—that he was dead. That she must be hallucinating with fever. But as Ann stared up at him in those warm, silent moments that strung achingly between them, she saw tears trickling unchecked from his eyes, rolling down his darkly shadowed, unshaved face, and she knew that he was real.

  Mike’s tears grazed her soul as nothing else ever would. She’d never seen a man cry before—not like this. In those pregnant moments of clarity, her mind ebbing and flowing between consciousness and semiconsciousness, she knew in her heart his tears were for her. Tears of love. Tears of relief. Of greeting. And though her thoughts were coming so quickly that she couldn’t process them all, somehow she could feel Mike’s every emotion as he continued to gaze down at her.

  She forced her badly chapped lips apart to form a word. One word.

  “Mike…”

  She had to know if he was really here with her or if she was imagining all of this. Her heart beat harder, full of anguish at the thought that this was nothing more than a mirage, a last-ditch wish from her heart because she’d truly lost him forever.

  Houston caressed her wrinkling brow. “Shh, mi querida, don’t struggle so hard.” He broke into a half smile filled with welcome. “I’m real. And no, you aren’t dead. And neither am I.” He picked up her right hand and brought it to his lips. Her flesh was no longer cool and clammy, but warm and full of life once again. Pressing his mouth to her soft skin, he could smell the faint fragrance of lilac soap she’d last washed with. He watched her eyes widen as he brushed his lips against her fingers.

  “See? That was real.” He laid her hand across her stomach, which was covered with warm blankets. Placing his hands on either side of her head, her sable hair a dark frame around her frighteningly pale features, he lowered his head until their noses almost touched. He watched her pupils dilate. She was watching him, holding her focus on him. Good, it would help keep her here. Keep her with him. Forever.

  “No,” he repeated, trying to smile, the corners of his mouth lifting, “you’re not dead, Ann. You’re here, with me, in your apartment in Lima, Peru.”

  He saw confusion cloud her eyes as she continued to watch him. She clung to each word he slowly spoke to her. When huge, new tears formed in her eyes, he understood that she was afraid he was nothing more than a fevered figment of her mind, of her broken heart. Lifting his hand, he brushed her tears away with his thumb.

  “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” he teased, his voice breaking.

  A sob tore from Ann.

  He felt his heart being ripped open. He had promised to take it easy and not rush her, but her eyes reflected such anguish that he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t help but reach for her as her sob knifed through him like the unsheathed claws of a jaguar striking out in defense.

  “Come here,” he rasped brokenly, leaning forward and gathering her limp form against him. She was alarmingly weak, and Mike gently guided her head against his shoulder so that her brow rested against his stubbled jaw. “There,” he rasped, “does that feel real enough for you now, Ann? Feel me. Here.” Lifting her hand because she was too weak to lift it on her own, he placed her soft palm against his roughened face. “Feel me. Feel my beard.” He gave a short laugh, but it came out as a choking sound. “Can’t you smell me? Cripes, I smell like the rotting jungle, like fear, sweat, blood and mud. That should tell you this is real. That I’m real.”

  He moved her hand in circular motions against his face. And then he placed her arm around his waist and he embraced her, so very much in touch with her chaotic jumble of feelings. There was a fine trembling in her as he gently rocked her back and forth in his arms. He felt so responsible for her safety that it nearly overwhelmed him. She shouldn’t believe that he could always protect her. God knew, he wanted to, but he was only human. So terribly, vulnerably human. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss against her tangled hair.

  “There. Did you feel that? I kissed your hair. How about another one?” Her hair was silky and he liked the feeling of the strands beneath his lips as he pressed a second kiss against her temple. Her arm lay limply against him, and for a moment, as he pressed a third, lingering kiss on her cheek, there was a slight response.

  “Good,” he praised huskily. “I see you’re beginning to believe I’m real and not a figment of your fevered state.” Sliding his fingers through her hair, he held her more tightly against him for a moment. “You came so close to dying…so close…. I heard you cry out for me. I heard you, mi querida. Everything’s gonna be okay. Believe me,” he rasped against her hair, “it is. You’re very weak and you need to sleep. I’m going to lay you back down and I want you to stop struggling, okay? I can feel you. I want you to take my energy and let it heal you. Don’t fight to stay awake or try to figure all this out. There will be plenty of time for that later, I promise you.”

  Mike eased Ann back onto the bed, keeping extra pillows beneath her because that helped her breathe easier. This time, as he straightened up after tucking her in, he saw that her eyes looked less cloudy. Her gaze clung to his until her lashes drooped shut.

  “Sleep,” he whispered, sliding his fingers through her hair in a caressing motion. “I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you ever again….”

  The next time Ann awoke, sunlight was pouring through the curtains of her bedroom, making everything around her glow. As she lay there, she thought at first she was back in that gold-and-white light again. Then a broken snore snagged her drowsy attention. Barely turning her head to the right, she saw Mike Houston sitting, legs splayed, in a chair next to her bed. His head was tipped back, exposing his well-corded throat and Adam’s apple, and his arms hung over the chair, which was too small for his large form.

  She wasn’t dreaming this time, she realized, though it took long, exquisite moments of simply absorbing his form into her wide-open heart before she could think straight. Thinking, Ann realized belatedly, took too much energy. Right now, on an intuitive level, she knew she had to be a miser with that energy in order to get well.

  As he slept, Ann saw a depth of vulnerability in Houston as she’d never seen before. His dark hair was tousled an
d the exhaustion on his face wrung her heart. Dark, deep shadows lay beneath his eyes. His flesh, usually golden colored, was now pasty, as if drained of life. That frightened her. Was he wounded?

  She had to examine him closer. As she struggled to try and sit up, the bed creaked in protest.

  Instantly, Houston snapped awake, his eyes wide, his entire body tensing defensively. What? Who? He jerked a look toward Ann. She was awake. And she was looking directly at him, her eyes clear, her pupils huge and black and surrounded by the most incredible blue-gray he’d ever seen. The seconds strung palpably between them. When he realized there was no danger to guard against, he sat up straight. Then, raking her from head to toe with a searching gaze, he stumbled to his feet.

  “Ann?” His voice was thick with sleep and undisguised concern.

  She fell back, unable to remain up on her elbows for very long. As she closed her eyes, she felt his hands moving across her face, checking her temperature. And then he sat down next to her, his hip against hers as he picked up her wrist and felt for a pulse. It felt so good to be touched by Mike! How she wanted to tell him. She tried to form the words, but they stuck in the back of her dry throat.

  “Good,” Mike murmured, reaching for the blood pressure cuff on the nearby bed stand, “your pulse is finally strong and stable.” Placing the stethoscope to his ears and wrapping the cuff around her arm, he pumped it up. As he released the air slowly from the device, he critically watched the needle. His heart soared.

  “One hundred over eighty. Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all.” He removed the stethoscope from his ears and the cuff from around her upper arm and watched as Ann slowly opened her eyes again. Smiling down at her, he rasped, “Welcome back to the real world, stranger.” Getting up, he moved to the other side of the bed, where plastic IV bags filled with life-giving nutrients flowed into her left arm. Adjusting the drip, he felt relieved when she turned her head and continued to watch him. His heart pulsed with elation. Ann was out of the woods. For the first time in a twelve-hour period, her pulse and blood pressure were remaining stable. As he walked back around the bed, roughly wiping the sleep from his face, he felt exhaustion begin to avalanche upon him. Fighting it off, he carefully sat down on the bed and faced Ann. Should he take her hand as he had before? This time she was fully conscious, not floating in and out of this world.

  To hell with it. Sliding his hand around hers, he squeezed her fingers. “Thirsty?”

  Ann closed her eyes and drank in Houston’s strong, firm touch. How did he know she desperately needed him to touch her? It felt like forever since she’d used her voice, and when she tried to force out a “yes” to answer his question, only a croak issued forth.

  Nodding, Mike released her hand and quickly poured her a glass of water. “Hang on, I’ll maneuver around here and help you sit up to take a sip.”

  His arm slid around her shoulders. How good it felt to lean against Mike as he positioned himself next to her. Raising her hand to hold the glass, she found, wasn’t possible.

  “Let me….” he whispered as he cradled her head against his shoulder, her soft hair against his jaw. “All you have to do is drink. Take all you want….”

  Tears formed as she became privy to his incredible gentleness in the following moments. He pressed the glass against her lower lip and tipped it up just enough for her to drink without being drenched in the cool liquid. How good the water tasted! Ann slurped thirstily, some of the water spilling down both sides of her mouth. Houston couldn’t tip it up fast enough for her to drink. Her throat was raw and so dry. And one glass was not enough. She saw the surprise in his eyes and then the grin forming on that wonderful mouth of his. She absorbed his warmth as she leaned against him. Just being held by him made her heart soar with joy. Just the strength of his arms around her, his body pressed to hers, fed her own strength.

  “More?” Houston chuckled. “I don’t have a beautiful woman in my arms, I’ve got a two-humped camel needing a refill at the oasis.”

  Ann laughed—or at least tried to. The sounds coming from her throat were raspy, but somehow Houston knew she was laughing. His grin widened enormously as he held her steady, his left arm wrapped around her while he reached for the pitcher on the bed stand. She watched him carefully balance the glass in his left hand while he poured more water into it. The errant thought that he could have laid her back down on the pillow and gotten the water more easily crossed her mind. Somehow, he understood that she didn’t want to be physically separated from him just now.

  After several glasses of water, Ann was sated. Houston replaced the glass on the bed stand. He should extricate himself and let her lie back down, but he was loath to release her. As he continued to hold her, he felt her tremble slightly and sigh.

  “Okay?” he asked near her ear as he clasped his hands across her belly, above the thick blankets that covered her. She was warm and felt so good against him. Worried that he was taking advantage of the situation, he started to ease her up into a sitting position so he could move away from her.

  He heard a mewing noise come from her, clearly a sound of protest. Looking down, he saw her raise her lashes. Her gaze clung to his. “No? You don’t want me to leave?”

  It took every bit of strength Ann had to lift her right hand and allow it to fall across his much larger, darker one. Words refused to come. Body language would have to do. As she tried to send out the impression she didn’t want him to move, his mouth curved ruefully and his blue eyes danced with sunlight.

  “Okay, I got the message. Just relax, you hear me? I’ll sit here holding you for as long as you want, Ann. I’m in no hurry to go anywhere, believe me.” And he wasn’t. Mike watched as her lashes drifted shut and her lips parted. He heard a ragged sigh issue from her badly chapped lips. She sagged against him, and Houston realized just how much she’d struggled to keep him from leaving her bedside.

  “Just lie here,” he soothed, capturing her cooler hand between his own. “I’ll be your blanket, okay? I’ll keep you warm and safe so you can go back to sleep. That’s what you need right now, you know. Lots of sleep. That and liquids.” He pressed a kiss to Ann’s hair and smiled with relief. She moved her fingers slightly within his hand.

  Releasing a ragged sigh, Mike closed his eyes, too. He maneuvered himself fully onto the bed, his back against the headboard, his head tipped against the wall behind it. Exhaustion stalked him. He’d barely slept, snatching catnaps between taking her pulse, monitoring her blood pressure and watching over her during the endless hours, days and nights. But as he felt her shallow, slow breaths move moistly against the column of his neck, the hard line of his mouth relaxed. This was all he wanted for the rest of his life: Ann in his arms. Alive. Wanting him to hold her. Wanting him…

  Chapter 9

  “How long have I been out of it?” Ann heard how rusty her voice was, her words sounding more like croaks than the English language.

  Houston stretched his long legs out in front of him. He’d managed to sleep with Ann in his arms, undisturbed, for nearly eight hours. She’d awakened first, and he’d quickly come awake seconds afterward. He’d eased her into a sitting position, given her several glasses of water and watched her orient herself completely to the real world once again. As he sat down, he knew the questions would come like a barrage. A part of him was afraid she’d reject him because of the answers he would have to give her.

  Rubbing his face tiredly, Mike looked down at the watch on his left wrist. “Four days, ten hours and thirty-five minutes.”

  Her brows moved up. “Four days…” she managed in a whisper. She saw a lazy but exhausted smile tug at the corners of Mike’s mouth as he regarded her in the dim light of the room, which was almost completely dark save for a small lamp on the Queen Anne dresser.

  “Yeah…”

  “What hit me? I…” Ann touched her hair with her trembling hand. Weakness stalked her. “I remember having a fever. It was high. Sudden.”

  Houston lost his smile. Si
tting up, he folded his hands between his opened thighs. “You got nailed with a hemorrhagic fever, Ann.”

  “What?” Her voice cracked in disbelief. She stared over at him. “But how…”

  He shrugged wearily. “I don’t know. You tell me. Do you remember anything out of the ordinary at the clinic? The granny nuns couldn’t. God knows, we were looking for cause and effect. You had something that I’ve seen villagers get from living in lousy sanitation conditions. We had your blood analyzed at the hospital. It’s actually a parasite. You pick it up from animal fecal matter.”

  “Yuck,” Ann muttered. She pressed her hands to her face and tried to remember. Her mind wasn’t functioning fully yet, not by a long shot. Emotionally, she felt completely raw and vulnerable. Having Mike here with her made her feel more stable, despite her weakness. “Wait…” She allowed her hands to drop away from her face. She told Houston about the little boy who had given her the piece of candy in return for setting his broken arm.

  Mike’s face darkened instantly. He straightened up and scowled. “You didn’t eat it, did you?”

  “Well, yes, I did eat it…. I mean, I didn’t really, but you see, I wanted to make him happy. I know these kids don’t get candy that often. I realized when he gave his only piece to me how much it meant to him. I popped it into my mouth and made lots of noises to show him how good it tasted.”

  Groaning, Mike raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “Ann…!”

  “I spit it out into the waste basket as soon as he left,” she muttered, defiance in her voice.