by JoAnn Ross
Stunned by the obvious emotion in his voice, Davina could only nod. As he carried her back to the Jeep, the crowd parted in respectful waves, like the waters of the Red Sea, allowing them to pass unmolested.
Once she was again on safe ground, the fear that she had managed to control now overcame her. She began to tremble violently, her teeth chattering despite the blazing heat of the Mexican sun.
"Oh, m-m-my God," she groaned into his shoulder, "I thought I was g-going to d-die."
Sam's arms tightened. "I wouldn't have let that happen," he swore with what he knew to be false bravado.
As it was, he had turned out to be one damned poor excuse for a bodyguard. As he put her carefully into the passenger seat of the Jeep, wrapping her in a blanket, Sam was mentally cursing himself in two languages.
As stunned as she was by her near disaster, Davina found herself even more startled by Sam's reaction. She couldn't believe the change in him. During the drive back to Valladolid, he kept looking over at her, as if finding it difficult to believe that she was safe. Davina was admittedly flattered, but his intense scrutiny began to get on her nerves.
Unfortunately, nothing about his demeanor encouraged conversation. He'd retreated behind that brick wall he was able to erect between them, and at the moment, she didn't have the strength to try to breach it.
Sam's heart was still pounding with the intensity of a jackhammer as he tried to sort through his tumultuous thoughts. He didn't think he'd ever forget the sight of Davina falling over the edge of that Sacred Cenote. And it was more than just the usual reaction anyone would have had to such a terrifying situation. The fact that it had been Davina made the entire incident more than horrifying; it had been a nightmare he didn't think he'd ever entirely banish from his mind.
Admittedly he had wanted her from the beginning—from the moment he'd seen her in the doorway of the cantina. In that way, he was forced to acknowledge, his feelings had not been that far removed from Raoul's. She'd been afraid; that much had been obvious. But there had been something in the way she had stiffened her spine, a certain stubborn tilt to her chin, that he'd found undeniably appealing. Later, as he'd begun to gain further insight into her, Sam had witnessed flashes of passion, displays of emotion that only increased his desire.
But something else had happened. Not only did he want Davina, sometime over these past three days, he had come to genuinely like her, as well. Nothing about this woman was turning out to be at all easy. He looked up, as if seeking a solution to his dilemma in the blue sky where dark, angry clouds were beginning to form, forecasting yet another afternoon thunderstorm.
"I think," she said slowly, the rapid-fire chattering of her teeth subsiding as the blanket, as well as the knowledge that she was safe, began to warm her, "that I owe you my life, Sam McGee."
"It was nothing," he said with a forced shrug. "Don't forget, you're—"
"Paying for your services." Her quiet tone was edged with a sadness that tore at some fiber deep inside Sam, despite his effort to remain aloof. "Still, I hired you to be my guide. Not my bodyguard."
The velvet warmth of her voice invited him to soften his attitude, even as Sam reminded himself that he had to stay strong—if not for himself, for her.
Not trusting himself to look at her, he kept his gaze directed at the mirages shimmering just out of reach on the pitted asphalt roadway. "It comes with the territory."
Davina started to speak, but something in the hard set of , his jaw stopped the words in her throat. Instead, she reached out, placing her hand on his thigh. The taut muscle stiffened under her fingertips, but he didn't protest. A few miles later, Davina could not stop the smile from blooming on her face when, without a word, Sam covered her slender hand with his.
They remained that way until Sam had parked the Jeep in front of the hotel.
"Stay put," he instructed as she reached out to open her door. A moment later, he had come around the front of the Jeep and scooped her into his arms, blanket and all.
"Sam McGee, put me down," she complained as he carried her to the door. "I'm perfectly capable of walking now."
"The last time I let you call the shots, you almost ended up one more sacrifice to Chac," he countered brusquely.
Despite her sputtered words of protest, he insisted on carrying her up in the elevator to the unabashed interest of the hotel desk clerk and a quartet of elderly men playing checkers at a table in the lobby.
Sam stopped in front of her door. "Give me your key."
His gritty tone did not encourage an argument. Davina obliged, remaining cautiously quiet as he entered the room, kicking her door closed behind him.
He placed her on her feet in the center of the tiled floor, pocketing the brass key. "If you ever pull such a ridiculous stunt again, so help me God, I'll—"
"You'll what?" she challenged, looking up at his granite face. "Beat me?"
His hands cupped her shoulders hard enough to make her wince. "Dammit, Davina," he said on a low note that was more deadly than the loudest roar, "I'm serious."
His mouth was grim, his eyes chips of agate. To a casual observer, it would appear that he was furious with her. But Davina felt she was beginning—albeit barely—to understand this man. As hard as he was on others, Sam McGee would always reserve the toughest standards for himself. And in this case, she had the distinct impression that he was angrier with himself for allowing her to fall into the well in the first place than he was at her for taking the tumble.
She forced herself to meet his blistering gaze with a level look of her own. "I'm exceedingly grateful to you for saving my life, Sam," she said quietly. "However, that doesn't give you the right to yell at me. Or to manhandle me."
He dropped his hands to his sides. "I'm not yelling," he snapped. "I'm trying to force some sense into that crazy head of yours. Don't you realize someone just tried to kill you?"
His harsh words brought an image flashing before Davina's eyes. There had been a man, she recalled suddenly— an Indian with eyes the color of midnight who had watched the surreptitious exchange take place. A fleeting sense of danger had rippled over her when she had viewed the undisguised cruelty in those dark, dangerous eyes. A moment later, she had been falling through space.
At the sudden memory, the shaking started again. "You're wrong." She had to force the words through stiff lips. "It was an accident."
He drew her against him, his hand rubbing against her back in an attempt to soothe her trembling. "I think we both know better than that, Davina."
Davina pressed her cheek against his chest. "No," she whispered. "It couldn't be. Why would anyone want to kill me?"
As soon as she heard herself ask the question, she knew the answer. As she lifted her head, it was all Sam could do not to groan at the excitement washing over the lingering fear in her wide eyes.
"It's because of the map, isn't it?"
"I don't know."
"It is," she insisted. "Don't you see, Sam? This is proof that the map is legitimate!"
He slipped the medallion over her head, tracing the embossed gold figure of an ancient Mayan god-king. For such an ugly thing, it had certainly caused its share of trouble.
"You're jumping to conclusions again," he muttered. "I take it that the infamous map to Naj Taxim is hidden in there."
"Of course it is," she said, eagerly reaching out for the heavy medallion.
Sam caught her hand. "Why didn't you tell me right away that the rope had torn your skin?"
Davina looked down, staring numbly at the red welts crisscrossing her palms. "I hadn't realized it had."
Once again, Sam was furious at himself for not protecting Davina better. He'd only agreed to go on this fool's mission in order to keep her out of danger, and what had happened? Not only had she almost drowned, but thanks to his rescue methods, her skin looked like raw hamburger. He turned her hands over, submitting them to his blistering scrutiny.
"It's not that bad," she argued softly. "And I certainly did
n't mean not to hide anything from you. At first I was too frightened to think of anything other than getting out of that well. And then you started talking about attempts on my life, and I remembered that man—"
Every muscle in his body tensed. "What man?"
"An Indian."
"Did he say anything to you? Did he threaten you in any way?"
Davina shook her head. "He didn't say a word. Really, Sam, it was probably nothing but my imagination. It was just his eyes…" Her complexion paled as she vividly recalled that cold, deadly gaze.
"What about his eyes?" Sam demanded.
Davina shook her head to clear it of the still-frightening visage. "It was as if he hated me," she whispered harshly. "But that's ridiculous; I'd never seen him before."
"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"
Davina shuddered at the thought. "I don't think I'll ever forget him."
She was terrified, Sam realized. Oh, she was making a valiant attempt to hide it, but she was scared to death. And why not? She had had one helluva day. Sam wished that he could hold her in his arms and promise her that everything was going to be all right. But he couldn't—because he had the uneasy feeling such a prediction would only be a lie.
"We'll talk about this later. Right now I need to clean and wrap your hands," he said instead.
She waved away his concern. "You needn't bother; I'm sure they'll be fine."
"Dammit!" Sam exploded. "Just once, would you shut up and not argue with me?"
Davina felt herself growing slowly infuriated by Sam's angry tone. She wondered why it was that all too often her feelings of desire for Sam were comingled with anger. In a strange way, she welcomed her irritation. It steamrollered over heretofore unknown feelings of fear. The strange blend of anger and lingering fear made her words unnecessarily rash.
"I think you're forgetting exactly who's paying for this expedition."
His answering smile was mirthless. "I was waiting for that. This is where you point out that since you're writing the checks, that makes you the boss, right?"
It wasn't easy, facing down his rough, dangerous stance, but Davina gave him a long, challenging look. "I think it's something we should both keep in mind."
Sam realized that her independence meant a great deal to her. After years of obviously living in Jordan Lowell's shadow, she would naturally want to spread her wings and take off on her own. Unfortunately what would have been understandable and acceptable in Boston was not prudent behavior in the Yucatan.
She was going to have to understand that once in awhile it didn't hurt to let someone make the decisions. He had allowed that ridiculous cloak-and-dagger scheme at the ruins, and his compliance almost ended up getting her killed. From now on, Davina was going to have to understand that he was calling all the shots.
He folded his arms over his chest. "You may be footing the bill, but until you demonstrate to me that you've got more in that brain of yours than dry facts from a stack of dusty textbooks, I'm in charge of this expedition. From here on in you'll do what I say, when I say it. With no back talk."
Scarlet flags rose in her cheeks. "I certainly won't agree to that!"
"You don't have any choice."
"I can fire you. And find myself another guide."
"Go ahead, try it and see what happens," he invited.
Davina's eyes displayed a certain wariness but she held her ground. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm just stating the facts. And in case you've forgotten, sweetheart, this was all your idea in the first place. I was perfectly contented running my cantina and catching a few fish until you showed up, batting those thick eyelashes and giving me that wide-eyed, cocker-spaniel look until I caved in and let you talk me into some wild-goose chase for a city that doesn't exist and a man who probably bought the farm fifteen months ago. So whether you like it or not, Professor, you're stuck with me, for better or worse, until we either find your father or get proof of his death—whichever comes first."
Sam mentally gave her points for fortitude as she refused to back down. "I've got the map now," she reminded him. "I can probably find Naj Taxim by myself."
"You try to leave this room without me and so help me God, I'll tie you to the bed."
She looked at him suspiciously. "You wouldn't dare."
"I've got lots of rope left."
"You can't keep me a prisoner in here!"
"I can and I will, if that's what it takes to keep you out of trouble."
She shook her head, eyeing him with a mixture of frustration and admiration. "You're something else, McGee."
"Does that mean you're going to behave yourself?"
"It means that I'm willing to take your advice—for now."
Knowing the effort that small capitulation had cost Davina, Sam decided not to push for a total victory. "I'll go down to the Jeep and get the first-aid kit."
He turned in the doorway. "Lock this door while I'm gone," he instructed in a gritty voice that was designed to conceal how desperately he wanted to keep her safe.
Sam knew Davina had been pushed into that well. The question was, by whom? And why? He could only hope that he found the answers before her would-be killer struck again.
He waited outside the door until he heard the twist of the lock. Casting a careful glance in each direction down the hallway, Sam headed toward the fire escape. The stairway would be faster than that ancient elevator; he didn't want to leave Davina alone any longer than was necessary.
By the time Sam was halfway down the hall, Davina's irritation with him had vanished. Instead of wasting time dwelling on Sam McGee's frustratingly arrogant attitude, she turned her attention to the gold filigreed locket the man had given her in exchange for the envelope of money just before she had fallen into the well.
Inside the heavy gold medallion, as promised, Davina found what she was looking for: the map, the legendary map to Naj Taxim—and to her father. As she pressed the piece of parchment against her lips, it was all she could do not to shout for joy.
8
Davina studied the map legend carefully, charting mileage. She traced the river the city was supposed to be on with her finger, judging distance and traveling time. With luck, they should have located it before a week was out.
Deep in thought, she failed to hear Sam return to the room. He opened his mouth to warn her to be more attentive when he spotted the piece of parchment in her hand.
"I suppose that's the famous map to Naj Taxim."
Davina nodded.
He expelled a slow breath. "So even after what happened this morning, you're still committed to this search."
At least he hadn't called it a ridiculous search, Davina noted. She supposed that was something. "We had a deal," she reminded him quietly. "If I got the map you'd lead me to the city."
"I remember," he said resignedly.
"You'll never believe where the city is."
He could go along with that—since he didn't believe the place existed in the first place. "We'll talk about it after I take care of your hands."
"But—"
He held up a hand to cut her off. "Rule number one," he said in that silky, dangerous tone she had learned to respect. "I set all the rules."
She lifted a questioning brow. "And if I don't agree with rule number one?"
"Tough." He crossed the room to look down at her. "I'm only thinking of you, Davina," he said quietly. "Your health. Your safety. This entire search will be a lot easier if you quit fighting me at every turn."
"I haven't been that bad," she protested.
"Haven't you? I can't remember when I've met a more argumentative female."
Davina smiled at his obvious frustration. It was only the faintest hint of a smile, but it caused his heart to hammer just the same. "Would you believe that most people consider me quite agreeable? That I'm probably the last person at the University anyone would ever accuse of making waves?"
"I'd believe that."
The smile touc
hed her eyes. "Really? After the way you've accused me of behaving?"
He squatted, placing the first-aid kit on the floor beside him. Davina didn't offer a word of protest as he took her hand. He frowned as he studied the deep red welts.
"Most people don't know you," he said mildly. He began rubbing some cooling, green gel over her palm.
How strange that such large hands could be so tender, Davina mused. Those strong dark hands that could excite her body with the slightest touch were now caressing her skin with a gentleness she never would have thought Sam McGee capable of.
"And you do—" she challenged softly "—know me?"
He looked up from his ministrations, meeting the myriad of questions in her aquamarine eyes with a steady look. "I'm beginning to feel as if I'd known you all my life," he said simply.
In a way it was true. Sam was beginning to realize that he had been subconsciously anticipating Davina Lowell's arrival for a very long time. The remarkable thing was that he hadn't even realized it until she had walked uninvited and unannounced into his life.
Davina could think of no words to answer Sam's startling admission. She fell silent, watching as he continued spreading the soothing gel over her hands before wrapping them in white gauze.
"That does feel a lot better," she admitted when he had finished the task.
"It's aloe vera. The sting'll be gone in about twenty minutes. It should keep your hands from swelling, and with any luck, tomorrow the redness will be gone. If they don't look a lot better, we'll take you to the doctor."
"Tomorrow we're going to Naj Taxim," she reminded him.
"That's where you're wrong; tomorrow we're staying right here."
"Here?" She didn't bother to keep the grievance from her tone. "Why?"
He put away the gauze and gel and closed the lid of the first-aid kit decisively. "Because we're not leaving town until I know for certain those cuts aren't going to get infected. There aren't a lot of drugstores in the jungle, Davina. I'm not going to let you risk blood poisoning along with everything else."
"For heaven's sake, Sam," she retorted, "I'm not an invalid. Or a baby. You don't have to coddle me."
