Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior

by Lindsay McKenna

  Chuckling, Roan eased her to the ground. “Still hungry, or do I finish off this feast by myself?” he teased. Sliding his arm around her waist, Roan led her to the edge of the meadow. Sitting down in the shade of a towering tree, his back against one of the buttressing roots, he pulled Inca down beside him. She nestled between his legs, her back curved against him.

  “No, I am hungry. Starved like a jaguar….” And Inca quickly opened the cloth bag.

  Roan leaned back, content to have her within his loose embrace. He heard her gasp in delight.

  “Pineapple with rice!” She grinned with triumph. “You must have begged Grandmother Alaria to make this for us. It is my favorite recipe. She used to make this for me when I was training here in the village.”

  Tunneling his fingers through her dark hair, Roan watched the breeze catch it as it sifted softly down upon her shoulders. “Yep, I bribed her.”

  “Oh!” Inca held up a container, her face alight with surprise. “Cocoa pudding!”

  “Your second favorite, Grandmother said. I asked her to make you something special, and she said you used to hang around her hut every day and beg her to make it for you.”

  Inca gloated as she tore the lid off and grabbed a spoon. “Hah! And more times than not, Grandmother gave in to my pleadings.”

  “Hey, that’s dessert! You’re suppose to eat your other food first.”

  Inca twisted around and gave him a crooked grin of triumph. “Who said so?” She pointed to her belly. “It is all going to the same place. It does not care what comes first, second or third!” And she laughed gaily.

  Watching her spoon the still-warm pudding into her mouth, Roan picked up a sandwich of cheese and lettuce liberally sprinkled with hot chilies. “Now I know why you like this place so much. You can do exactly what you want to do here.”

  Chuckling indulgently, Inca leaned back and quickly consumed half of the pudding with gusto. When she’d finished, she set the container aside. “Your half,” she instructed him primly.

  “That’s big of you. I thought you were going to wolf the whole thing down in one gulp.”

  “Jaguars do such things,” she agreed wryly, meeting his smiling eyes as she picked up the other cheese sandwich. Munching on it, she announced, “Today, I feel magnanimous in spirit. I will share with you my favorite dessert.”

  “I like it when you can smile and tease. Here you have a sense of humor and you’re playful. I never saw that side of you in Brazil. It’s nice.”

  Inca nodded and eagerly finished off the sandwich. The bread, too, was still warm from the oven. Licking her fingers one at a time, she murmured, “Here I do not have to be anything but myself. I do not have to be a warrior constantly. I can relax.”

  Sobering, Roan wiped his hands on another cloth and reached for the bowl of chocolate pudding. “I’m glad you have this place to return to, Inca. You were worn down. You needed someplace to heal.” He gazed around. In the distance he saw a great blue heron flying toward what he knew was the waterfall area. The day was incredibly beautiful. But every day in this village was like being in a secret, hidden Shangri-La.

  Inca turned around and crossed her bare legs beneath the thin fabric of her dress. Taking one of the mangoes, she began to methodically peel it with her long, slender fingers. “I feel better today than ever before, Roan. More…” she searched for the right word “…whole.”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “You’ve had a long, hard journey for seven years, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned this place, this down time.” He looked fondly toward the village. “All of it.”

  “I have my family back,” Inca said as she bit into the ripe mango.

  Roan nodded, understanding the implications of her softly spoken, emotion-filled words. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he was under strict orders by Grandmother Alaria to say nothing of Maya, who had helped to save Inca’s life. A part of him chaffed under that stern order. He wanted to share his discovery of Maya, and the fact she was Inca’s twin sister, but Alaria had warned him sufficiently that he backed off from saying anything. Inca needed time and space to heal. She would know the truth when Maya chose to appear and break the news to her, Alaria had told him.

  Roan watched Inca through half-closed eyes, the afternoon heat, the good food and her company all conspiring to make him feel regally satisfied in ways he’d never experienced.

  Wiping her hands on the damp cloth, Inca looked at him. “You look like a fat, old happy jaguar who has just eaten more than his fill and is going to go sleep it off.”

  His mouth lifted. “That’s exactly how I feel.” Roan reached out and grazed her cheek. “Only I have my jaguar mate here with me. That’s what makes this special.”

  “I put you to sleep?” Inca demanded archly, unmercifully teasing him.

  The fire in her eyes, the indignation, wasn’t real, and Roan chuckled. “You would put no man to sleep, believe me,” he rasped as he eased her around so that her back fit beautifully against him once more. “Come here, wild woman. My woman…”

  Sighing contentedly, Inca settled against Roan. He took her hands in his, and they rested against her slightly rounded abdomen. A small but warming thought of someday carrying his child in her belly moved through Inca’s mind. As she laid her head back on his broad, capable shoulder and closed her eyes, she sighed languidly. “I have never been happier, Roan. I did not know that love could make me feel this way.” She felt the warmth of the breeze gently caressing her as she lay in his arms, his massive thighs like riverbanks on either side of her slender form. “You make me feel safe when I have never felt safe before. Did you know that?” She opened her eyes slightly and looked up at him, and felt him chuckle, the sound rolling like a drumbeat through his massive chest.

  “I know,” he replied as he moved his fingers in a stroking motion down her slim, golden arm. He saw many old scars here and there across her firm flesh. It hurt him to think of her being in pain, for Inca had lived with not only physical pain, but the sorrowful loss of her family, from the time she was born. In a way, it had made her stronger and self-reliant. She was able to move mountains, literally, because of the strength this one event had given her in life. Roan tangled his fingers with hers. “I love you, my woman,” he whispered next to her ear. Her hair was soft against his lips. “Just know that you own my heart forever.”

  Her fingers tightened around his. Nuzzling his jaw, she whispered huskily, “And you hold my heart in your hands. You did from the beginning, even if I was not aware of it at first.”

  “When I saw you,” Roan said in a low, deep tone as he caressed her hair, “I fell in love with you on the spot.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Inca shrugged. “When I first saw you, I felt safe. Safe in a way I never had before. I knew you would protect me.”

  “That’s a part of love,” Roan said, smiling lazily.

  “I do not know much of what all love is about,” she began, frowning. “This is new to me.” She touched her heart. “I see others who are married. I see them touch one another, as we touch one another now. I see them kiss.” She pulled away and met his hooded eyes. “I think our kisses are more active than others I have seen. Yes?”

  Grinning, Roan said, “Passionate is the word I think you’re searching for.”

  “Mmm, yes…And I see married couples touch each other’s hands and hold them…and we do that, too.”

  “Loving a person, Inca, means loving them in many ways. There’s no one way to tell that special person that you love them. You love them in many, many ways every day.”

  “And you brought me flowers that morning after Grandmother Alaria told me I was a member of the clan once again.” Inca smiled up at him. “I was deeply touched. I did not expect such a gift from you.”

  “I wish I could have done more. I know what it meant to you, to be allowed to come home.” Roan caught several dark strands of hair that moved with the breeze across her
cheek, and tucked them behind her ear.

  “I must understand more of this love that we hold for one another. I try to learn by watching what others do.” Her eyes lit up with laughter. “And then I try it out on you to see if it works or not.”

  He chuckled. “No one can accuse you of not being an astute observer,” he said dryly. “I like discovering love with you. Just give yourself time and permission to explore when it feels right to you, Inca.”

  Sliding her hand across his dark, hairy one, she said, “My body is on fire sometimes. I ache. I want something…but I do not know what it is, how to get it, how to satisfy that burning within me.”

  “I do.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes.” Roan looked down at her animated features.

  “Will you show me? I feel as if I will explode at times when you kiss me, or touch me, or graze my breasts with your hand. I ache. I feel…unfulfilled, as if needing something and I do not know what it is. I feel frustrated. I know something is missing…but what?”

  Roan kept his face serious. Caressing her cheek, he said, “All you have to do is ask me, Inca, and I’ll show you. It’s something I can teach you. Something that is beautiful and intimate, to be shared only by those who love one another.”

  Nodding, she sighed. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  “A woman should always be in control of her own body, her own feelings,” he told her seriously, and pressed a kiss to her hair near her ear. “You tell me what you want, next time you feel like that—where you want me to touch you, where you want my hand placed. Making love to another person is one of the most sacred acts there is between human beings.”

  “It is more than the mating frenzy,” Inca said. “I have watched many animals couple. It is because they want to make babies. I understand that. But…” She hesitated. “This is different, yes? Between people? Do they always want to make a baby when they couple?”

  He felt her searching. Having lived her life in a rain forest, without any education about her own sexuality, about how a man and woman pursued intimacy, Inca was truly innocent. Gently, Roan took her hands into his. “Maybe we’re lucky, sweetheart. Humans don’t have to couple for the express purpose of having a baby. We can do it because it feels right, and it feels good for both of us. It’s the ultimate way to tell the other person how you feel about them.”

  Inca smiled and closed her eyes. “Grandmother Alaria said I should go to the Pool of Life and bathe there. She said I need the healing water to help me. Right now I want to have a nap with you. After I wake up, it feels right for me to do that.”

  Roan held her gently. Closing his eyes, he murmured, “Go to sleep, my woman. When you wake, go to the pool.”

  Inca lay in the soft grass beside the Pool of Life, where she had bathed and swum for nearly an hour. Now she understood as never before the healing qualities of the sparkling, clear water. The glade sheltering the oval pool was filled with flowering bushes and trees. As she lay on her back, arms behind her head, watching the lazy, late afternoon clouds move across the deep blue sky, she sighed. Never had she felt so whole or so much in balance. Her errant thoughts centered on Roan and how much he meant to her. She loved him. Yes, she knew now as never before that she loved him. When she left this wonderful place, she would search him out and tell him that to his face. A tender smile pulled at her lips as she lay there, enjoying the fragrance of the wildflowers and the warmth of the sun.

  Dressed once again in her pale pink shift, her skin still damp from the pool, Inca dug her toes joyfully into the grass that tickled the soles of her feet. Birds were singing, and she could hear monkeys screaming and chattering in the distance. Life had never felt as good as it did now.

  Inca suddenly sat up, alert and on guard. She felt a vibration—something powerful that distinctly reminded her of someone teleporting in to see her. Who? The energy was very different, like none she was familiar with. Turning, Inca looked toward where the energy seemed to be originating. She saw a woman—a stranger—standing near the bushes, no more than twenty feet away from her. She was dressed in a black military flight suit and black, polished boots. As her gaze flew upward, Inca gasped. Instantly, she was on her feet in a crouched position, her hands opened, as if prepared for an attack by the unexpected intruder to her reverie.

  Shock bolted through her, made her freeze. Her eyes widened enormously as she met and held the dark emerald gaze of the intruder. Her gasp echoed around the flowery glade. The woman looked almost exactly like her! Head spinning, Inca slowly came out of her crouched position. All her primal senses were switched on and operational—those instinctual senses that had saved her life so many times before. The woman who stood relaxed before her had black hair, just as she had. Only it was caught and tamed in a chignon at the base of her slender neck.

  Breathing hard, Inca shouted, “State your name!”

  The woman gave her a slight smile and lifted her hand. She took off her black flight gloves. “Be at ease, Inca. I’m Captain Maya Stevenson. And I come in peace.” Her smile disappeared and she took a step forward. “I’m unarmed and I’m not an enemy. I’m here to fulfill a prophecy….” Tears glittered in her narrowed eyes.

  Gulping, her heart pounding, Inca was assimilating all kinds of mixed messages from this tall, darkly clad woman warrior whose face was filled with emotion. “Y-you look like me! Almost…” She took a step back, not understanding what was going on. Her pulse continued to race wildly and she had to gasp for air. She felt like crying as a sharp, jolting joy ripped though her heart. Inca understood none of these wild, untrammeled feelings as the woman walked slowly down the slope toward her, and halted less than six feet away.

  Searching her face, Inca saw that there were minute differences between them. This woman—Maya—had a square face. Though her eyes were slightly tilted like Inca’s, Maya’s were a different color—emerald and not willow-green. Her mouth was full and her cheekbones high, but her face was broader. Her bone structure was different, too; while Inca was slender, Maya was of a larger, heavier build, and more curved than she. Still, the woman in black warrior garb stood equally tall, with that same look of confidence, her shoulders thrown back with unconscious pride.

  “I—I do not understand this. You look like me. A mirror image. What is going on? What prophecy?”

  Maya wiped her eyes. She tucked the gloves, out of habit, into the belt of her flight suit. “I think you’d better sit down, Inca. What I have to tell you might make you faint, anyway.” And she gestured to the ground.

  “No. Whatever you have to say I will take standing.”

  “Okay…have it your way. You always did have one helluva stubborn streak. Me? I need to sit down to say this to you.” Maya grinned a little and sat down in front of her. She pulled her knees up and placed her arms around them, hooking her fingers together. “Of course, your stubbornness also gave you the guts to survive and flourish.”

  Breathing hard, Inca stared down at Maya. “What do you speak of? Who are you?”

  Maya looked up, her emerald eyes dark and thoughtful. Her voice lowered, soft and strained. “I’m your fraternal twin sister, Inca. Our mother birthed us minutes apart. I came out first, and you, followed. We’re sisters, you and I. I was finally given permission by the elder counsel to come and meet you, face-to-face, to initiate contact with you.” She shook her head sadly. “And I’ve waited a long time for this day to come….”

  Inca staggered backward. Her eyes flared and her lips parted. When she felt her knees go wobbly, she dropped to the grass on her hands and knees. Staring at Maya, who sat calmly watching her, she could not believe her ears. She saw the compassion in Maya’s strong face, the tears running freely down her cheeks. In the next moment, Inca felt a shift of energy taking place between them, and she swallowed, unable to speak. Indeed, Maya was almost a carbon copy of her. Shaking her head, Inca clenched her fist.

  “I do not understand!” she cried in desperation. “How can you be my sister? I was abandoned by
my parents at birth! I was left for dead until a jaguar mother came and carried me back to her den to raise me.” Inca’s nostrils flared. Her breathing was chaotic. Her heart was bursting with pain and anguish.

  Maya leaned forward, her hand extended. Gently, she said, “I’m sorry you had to suffer so much, Inca. You were so alone for so long. And for that, I’m sorry. We agreed to this plan long before we ever entered human forms. We each did,” she stated with a grimace. Looking up, she took a deep breath and held Inca’s anguished gaze. “I have a story to tell you. Listen to me not only with your ears, but with your heart. Sit down, close your eyes and let me show you what happened—and why. Please?”

  Unable to catch her breath, Inca sat down and faced Maya. She had a sister? She was her sister? Maya looked so much like her. How could this be? Tears escaped from Inca’s eyes. “Is this a trick? A horrible trick you have come to play on me?”

  “No, my loving sister,” Maya said in a choked tone, tears filling her eyes again, “it isn’t. Please…try to gather yourself. Close your eyes. Take some deep breaths…that’s it. Let me tell you telepathically what happened to us….”

  Inca rocked slightly as she felt the energy from Maya encircle and embrace her. It was a loving, warm sensation and it soothed some of the ragged feelings bursting out of her hurting heart. Transferring her full focus to her brow, between her eyes, Inca began to see the darkness shift and change. Like all clairvoyants, Inca could literally see or perceive with her third eye. Her brow became a movie screen, in color. What she saw now made her cry out.

  She saw her mother and father for the first time. Her mother was breathing in gasps, squatting on the ground, her hands gripping two small trees on either side of her to stay upright. She saw her father, a very tall, golden-skinned man with black hair, kneeling at her side, talking in a soothing, calming tone to her. His hands opened to receive the baby that slid from his wife’s swollen body. Within moments, the child was wrapped snuggly in a black blanket made of soft alpaca wool. To Inca’s shock, she saw a second baby being delivered shortly thereafter. The infant was wrapped in a gold blanket with black spots woven into it. Inca knew at once that it was she—the second baby born from her mother’s body. Twins…she had a twin! And she’d never known it before this moment.