He could have rented a car for their trip, but he'd made a split-second decision to use his bike. Using the bike as their means of transportation had been the first of many tests he would put Rorie through over the next fourteen days—or less. He doubted she would last the entire two weeks. He gave her five days—seven at most—before she called it quits and accepted defeat.
They'd made a bargain, one he knew she would keep. If she couldn't make it through two weeks of training, then she would let him go to San Miguel alone. But if she survived his two weeks of "boot camp," he would take her with him.
He didn't doubt for a minute that he would be making the trip alone. Rorie wasn't tough enough for this dangerous mission into a country torn apart by civil war. Few women would be tough enough. He could think of only one he would even consider taking along—Ellen Denby, a fellow Dundee agent. But then, Ellen was no ordinary woman. She was hard as nails and as tough as any man he knew.
But Aurora—correction, Rorie—was soft and sweet and completely unprepared for the physical rigors of the mission. And to make matters worse, she was emotionally involved. In his experience, people in general and women in particular didn't always act rationally when they were personally involved in a dangerous situation.
"Here we are, folks," the boatman told them. "This is Le Bijou Bleu. Looks like the Dundees were expecting y'all. There's Manton waiting on the pier."
The morning sky spread out above them like a pale blue canopy, interspersed with fluffy white clouds. The October sun beamed down on them, its warmth at war with the cool breeze.
Shading her eyes from the glare of the sun, Rorie glanced at the pier. She gasped. A gigantic, brown-skinned man, with a shiny bald head, stood onshore. With his arms crossed over his enormous chest, he looked like a bronze statue.
"That's Manton?" she asked, her gaze transfixed on the seven-foot giant.
"That's Manton. He's a deaf-mute, but he reads lips perfectly."
Hawk lifted their small canvas bags onto the pier, then helped Rorie out of the boat. The minute they were ashore, the boatman waved goodbye and headed back to Biloxi.
Without any gesture of greeting, Manton lifted the two canvas bags and began the climb up the curving set of rock steps that led from the beach to the hilltop above.
"After I whip you into better shape, I'll let you try climbing that rocky hill without using these steps," Hawk told her. "It'll be good practice, just in case we have to go ashore close to the limestone cliffs in San Miguel."
Rorie groaned inwardly, but didn't respond to his taunt. They had just arrived on Le Bijou Bleu and already he was trying to scare her away.
When she stood there glaring at him, the sunlight turning her long, windblown hair to gold, Hawk grinned. "Come on, la dama dorado, you're safe for today. We won't start training until the morning. Today, we'll accept the Dundees' hospitality."
Rorie turned abruptly and quickly followed Manton up the steps. A pink flush spread over her neck and highlighted her cheeks. What had prompted Hawk to call her golden lady—and in Spanish? The words were practically an endearment. He knew she spoke Spanish, didn't he? Of course he knew.
Rorie had known the first moment she saw Gabriel Hawk that he was a dangerous man, but now she realized that possibly the most lethal thing about him was his deadly sex appeal. Most women probably fell into his arms after one exposure to his wicked smile.
She didn't have to look behind her to know that he followed her up the steps. She felt his nearness. When she hesitated at the top of the steps, he came up behind her, so close that she felt the warmth of his breath.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" He gripped her shoulder.
Willing herself not to respond to his touch, Rorie held the shivers inside as she looked out over the expanse of green grass in front of them. Huge live oaks, heavily laden with Spanish moss, mingled with palm trees. Circling the island, the sky and ocean met, blue on blue, one shade fading into the other on the distant horizon.
"You haven't seen anything yet," Hawk said. "Wait until you get a good look at the house."
They continued following Manton on the seemingly endless trek through the ankle-high grass. When Rorie saw the Dundees' home, she slowed and then stopped. The huge, two-story French cottage had been built on the top of a rise, allowing all four sides of the island and the Gulf waters to be viewed from the wide verandas that surrounded the house.
"It's like something out of a movie." Rorie sighed deeply.
Hawk nudged her. "Get a move on. We're expected for lunch and I'm sure you'll want time to freshen up first."
"We're expected for lunch?"
"We sure are. When I called Sam this morning to let him know we were in Mobile and were headed for the island, he told me that Jeannie insisted on our having lunch with the family before they leave for the mainland later this afternoon."
A menagerie of cats and dogs came out to meet them as they neared the house. Rorie counted six mixed-breed dogs as they greeted Manton and then raced past him to sniff the new arrivals. Cats of various colors and sizes lounged on the veranda, two curled into furry balls in wicker chairs.
A woman with flowing brown hair stood on the veranda, a warm and welcoming smile on her face. Despite the roundness of her body and the pink glow of her cheeks, Rorie thought the woman seemed fragile and delicate.
"Welcome to Le Bijou Bleu." The woman braced herself with a cane. She held out her free hand to Rorie, who stepped up on the porch and accepted the cordial greeting. "I'm Jeannie Dundee."
The moment the two women's hands touched, Jeannie sighed. "You mustn't worry about your stay here on my island," Jeannie whispered as she drew Rorie to her. "I sense that you are a very strong, determined woman. You will prove yourself to Gabriel."
Stunned by her hostess's insight, Rorie stared questioningly at Jeannie. "How did you—"
"I have empathic abilities," Jeannie said. "The moment I touched you, I felt your worry … your great concern."
A shiver of apprehension rippled along Rorie's nerve endings. She had been taught since childhood about the uniqueness of the human spirit, that the soul was eternal, but she'd never met anyone with an unearthly power.
Holding open the front door, Manton waited. Jeannie hurried Rorie and Hawk inside, through the spacious foyer and into the front parlor—a huge white room with floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors leading to the veranda.
"Take the bags downstairs to the ground level," Jeannie told Manton. "I've given Ms. Dean the Sunlight Room that Elizabeth and Reece have been using. And put Mr. Hawk's bag in the small bedroom."
"Where's Sam?" Hawk asked.
"Oh, he and Reece are out back playing with the children. You should see Samantha now that she's nearly two. She runs us ragged, but her little cousin Jamie gives her a run for her money. Jamie's three and he thinks he's the boss."
"Would you mind if I interrupt Sam for a few minutes?" Hawk asked. "I'd like to go over a few details of this assignment with him." Hawk glanced at Rorie. "Why don't you go on to your room and freshen up before lunch?"
Jeannie smiled at Hawk. "Go right down the hall. It'll lead you to the back porch. And don't worry about Ms. Dean. I'll take her downstairs, help her get settled in and introduce her to Elizabeth."
"Please, call me Rorie. And I don't want to be any trouble. If you'll just tell me—"
"No trouble at all." Jeannie laced her arm through Rorie's and led her out into the foyer. Rorie slowed her pace to accommodate Jeannie's hampered gait as they descended the stairs to the ground level of the huge, old cottage. "I want to introduce you to Elizabeth, Sam's niece. She's eager to meet you."
"She is?" Rorie couldn't imagine why the woman, someone she'd never even heard of before today, would be eager to meet her.
"I'm afraid you're going to think you've fallen through Alice's looking glass," Jeannie said. "You see, where I have empathic abilities, Elizabeth is clairvoyant. Hawk should have told you before you met us. Of course, he probably had
no idea that we would reveal ourselves to you. We usually don't. But Elizabeth and I agreed that you were a special case and that we should warn—no, not warn, prepare—yes, prepare you for what lies ahead."
"Mrs. Dundee—"
"Jeannie, please."
"Jeannie, I'm afraid I don't understand. I have to admit that you're unnerving me just a little."
"I'm sorry. But if you'll come and meet Elizabeth, she can explain everything. You see, she's been having—uh—er … visions about you, ever since Dane Carmichael called Sam and told him about your situation. About your nephew."
As a general rule Rorie wasn't a believer in the supernatural, other than a God in heaven and his host of angels; but on the other hand she wasn't exactly a skeptic, either. She'd always had an open mind, and as a spiritual person, she did believe in the power of miracles. So, who was she to say that Jeannie and Elizabeth did not possess special gifts? Perhaps God was using them to help her in her quest to save Frankie.
Jeannie led Rorie into a large, airy suite that extended the width of the ground floor, with windows facing east, west and south. When Rorie entered the suite, she realized that it consisted of three rooms. The sitting room in which they were standing led to a bedroom just beyond the French doors. To her left, the door to a private bath stood partially open.
Rorie wasn't accustomed to such luxury, such splendor. Antique furniture. Mansions on private islands. A suite of rooms for guests. She'd been raised as the daughter of missionaries, her father now a country minister. They had never had much money, and what her father earned, he often used to help the less fortunate.
An incredibly beautiful woman walked out of the bedroom and into the sitting area. Her sable-brown hair was French braided and the plait hung to her waist. The empire-cut dress she wore hid her pregnancy, until she sat down on the green wicker sofa. She laid her hand on top of her swollen belly.
"You must be Aurora … Rorie," the woman said. "I'm Elizabeth Landry. Please, come and sit with me." She held out her hand to Rorie.
"Don't be afraid." Jeannie gave Rorie a gentle shove. "We truly want to help you."
Uncertain whether she should accept these women at face value, Rorie cautiously crossed the room and sat down on the sofa beside Elizabeth.
"I'll leave the two of you alone for a while," Jeannie said. "I'll let y'all know when lunch is ready."
Rorie almost cried out for Jeannie not to leave her. Instead she turned to face Elizabeth and found instant assurance when she gazed into the woman's kind blue eyes.
"You have nothing to fear from me," Elizabeth said. "However, there is great danger in your future. But I see great happiness also, if you are courageous enough to reach out and grab it."
"Are you telling my fortune?" Rorie tried for joviality, but the quiver in her voice revealed her anxiety.
"The gift of clairvoyance is a great burden," Elizabeth said. "And I don't make a habit of sharing my visions with others. Gabriel Hawk is one of Sam's friends. He is a man tormented by demons. He is plagued by a past he cannot undo. I sense a true goodness in you. A goodness that can cleanse Gabriel's soul."
"Look … Elizabeth … I hardly think that I'm Hawk's salvation. I don't even know the man. We met only the day before yesterday. And we don't really like each other all that much. I've hired him for a mission to rescue my nephew, and that's all there is to our relationship."
"I know about your nephew. Frankie is alive and well and safe … for the time being."
Rorie grabbed Elizabeth's arm. "You've had a vision about Frankie?"
"My visions are of you and Gabriel and of the boy being rescued." Elizabeth laid her hand over Rorie's where she grasped her arm. "Prepare yourself for what is to come, for what you must do. Gabriel will take you to San Miguel and he will rescue your nephew. But in the end, it will be you who must save both Frankie and Gabriel—if you have the courage. If your love is strong enough. If it is not…"
Rorie gazed into Elizabeth's eyes and saw only the truth. "If not? Are you saying that Frankie could die and so could Hawk, unless I save them?"
"Prepare yourself," Elizabeth repeated. "And open your heart to a new and glorious wonder, for only love can give you the strength you will need."
"My love for Frankie will give me strength. I am prepared to do anything to save him."
"'Anything' covers a great deal of territory, Rorie. You say you would do anything, but the woman you are now is not prepared for what must be done. When the time comes, you will have to find the strength to do what your heart tells you is necessary."
Elizabeth patted Rorie's hand, then pulled away and rose from the sofa slowly, awkwardly. Steadying herself when she stood, Elizabeth smiled at Rorie. "I will think of you in the weeks ahead. And Jeannie and I will pray for you."
As Elizabeth walked out of the room, Rorie sat on the sofa, momentarily spellbound. For several minutes, she couldn't move, couldn't even think. But suddenly, emotions washed over her, like the pounding surf at high tide. Fear greater than any she'd ever known spiraled through her. Her fear subsided, making way for anger. And then anger was replaced by uncertainty.
Should she believe Elizabeth Landry's dire warnings? Could she trust the woman's visions? If she dared to believe, if she did trust, then she would have to accept her destiny.
She was destined to save Frankie. She accepted that responsibility wholeheartedly. But cleansing Gabriel Hawk's soul and saving him was a task for which she was unprepared.
Prepare yourself. If you have the courage… If your love is strong enough…
* * *
Hawk stood on the back veranda watching Sam Dundee and Reece Landry frolicking like a couple of kids. Sitting on the grass, Sam tossed a large, red ball to his daughter, a petite, toddler-size replica of himself. Her blond curls bounced up and down around her angelic face as she caught the ball, hugged it to her chest and then threw it back at her big, rugged father. Sam then threw the ball to Jamie Landry, his three-year-old nephew, who caught the ball high above his head and quickly tossed it to his father. Glancing toward Hawk, Reece missed the ball, much to his son's dismay.
"Daddy! Watch the ball," Jamie said.
"Sorry, little man." Reece picked up the ball from where it had landed at his feet and pitched it to his son.
"I didn't mean to interrupt playtime." Hawk walked down the steps leading off the veranda and into the backyard. "But Jeannie said it would be all right to come on out here."
When Sam stood and lifted his daughter onto his hip, she laid her head on his chest and snuggled against him. For the life of him, Hawk couldn't understand the ease with which a man like Sam Dundee had taken to fatherhood. Sam's background had no better prepared him for domesticity than Hawk's had him. And yet here was Sam happily married, a father, and obviously loving every minute of it.
"Is Jeannie getting Ms. Dean settled in?" Sam asked.
"My guess is that with three women alone together, they're plotting something," Reece Landry said.
"Did you need to see me about anything in particular?" Sam looked directly at Hawk.
"Yeah. If you can spare a few minutes," Hawk said.
Sam kissed his daughter's forehead. "Samantha, sweetheart, you go to Uncle Reece and play ball with him and Jamie, while I take a walk with Mr. Hawk."
Going reluctantly to her uncle, Samantha crinkled up her nose and pursed her lips in a spoiled little pout.
"Daddy will be right back," Sam assured the child.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Hawk thought. Sam Dundee was a slave to his love for his wife and daughter. Hawk had never allowed his emotions to enslave him, to make him weak and vulnerable. A man who didn't love remained strong and invincible. He could never be disappointed, never be hurt.
Hawk had learned long ago not to want what he couldn't have.
"Reece, give us a holler when lunch is ready." Sam turned to Hawk, then nodded toward a path leading from the yard to the beach. "Let's take a walk."
They remained
silent until they were out of earshot of the children. Sam paused briefly.
"So you took the assignment," Sam said. "I figured you would."
"I'm not taking her with me. She thinks I am, but I talked her into agreeing to undergo two weeks of training. If she fails the training, she doesn't go to San Miguel."
"And you're sure she's going to fail."
"I'm sure."
"Never underestimate a determined woman."
"Hell, wait until you see her," Hawk said. "She's plump and soft. And she's young, naive and my guess is she's as innocent as your little Samantha."
Widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows, Sam looked questioningly at Hawk. "There's innocent and then there's innocent. Are you saying Ms. Dean—who is what, twenty-seven?—doesn't know anything about the real world? Dammit, Hawk, the woman lived a whole year in San Miguel. She saw, firsthand, what the ugly side of life looks like. Her brother and sister-in-law were executed, she was drugged and put on a plane out of the country and her nephew was kidnapped by his grandfather's goons. I don't think the woman is naive."
"All right. So maybe she's not totally naive, but she's a damn do-gooder. That's why she was in San Miguel to start with. She was a missionary. Her brother was a minister. Her old man is a minister. She may not be naive, but she's… Well, she's…"
"Innocent?" Sam supplied the word.
"She's sweet. Syrupy sweet. She corrects me every time I use a curse word."
Sam Dundee burst into laughter. "I know what's wrong with you." Sam slapped Hawk on the back. "Aurora Dean is a virgin and you're going to be stuck alone here with her on Le Bijou Bleu for two weeks and possibly longer, if she goes to San Miguel with you. You've never spent that much time with a woman without having sex with her, and you know that Ms. Dean isn't going to give you the keys to her kingdom."
GABRIEL HAWK'S LADY Page 3
