“I don’t consider them people, not in the flesh-and-blood sense. Though I have to admit, Aunt Gaby sure showed up pretty solid, didn’t she?”
Her head rolled to one side as her soft lips curved into the smile of a delighted child. Unfortunately, his body responded to her quite differently. Still, his mind could not comprehend her claims of peculiar knowledge or of knowing spirits. The very idea disturbed him greatly.
He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms. “Either you are having a joke at my expense or you are still delusional from fever.”
“Do I look delusional?”
He eyed the soft light in her eyes and the glow of her skin. His gaze traveled over the woolen blanket molded around her feminine curves. She looked inviting, tempting, anything but delusional. “Then you are teasing me.” In more ways than one.
“Gabriella was here, Blake. You saw her with your own eyes. I know it sounds incredible. There’s no easy way to convince a first-timer that they’re not crazy, that it did really happen, and that there’s no normal explanation.”
Unable to sit still any longer, he rose from his chair and walked to the window. “I don’t believe you, Cara. I’m sorry.”
He truly felt sorry. For her. For himself. He had known all along there was something not quite right with her situation. Now he realized she was mad. Quietly so, thankfully. Had she been a raving lunatic, he would not have been so quick to offer his help in locating her son. In all likelihood, her mind had snapped from the death of a child, sending her on a blind search for the boy. But she was insane all the same. Yet he could not help being attracted to her beauty and her compassion.
What did he do now? Walk away? Leave her here to be cared for by Lupe?
And Gabriella.
He gave a derisive snort at the preposterous notion of guardian angels, then recalled Lupe’s reaction. Even the Indian woman believed in the rumors of the angel of mercy. Superstition. All of it. And Cara Edwards—if that was really her name—was weak-minded enough to be susceptible to the suggestions. He had seen it before. A young boy in Keoni’s village on Kaua‘i was a simpleminded child who would do and say anything he was told, mimicking his caretakers.
Yet as he went back over the events of the preceding days, he knew Cara had not behaved like a simpleton.
“Tell me about Andrew,” he said, deciding that her response might lead him to some answers of his own.
“Andrew?”
He turned at the strange croak in her voice. “Your son?”
“I-I know.” Clearly she was uncomfortable.
“Is there something wrong?”
“No, but I . . . that is, I’m a little surprised you suddenly changed the subject.”
“Not really.”
Her dark eyes narrowed slightly, eyeing him with wariness. He could almost feel her defensiveness.
“Andrew . . . is not my son.”
Ah, now we are seeing progress. Leaning against the adobe wall, he propped his elbow on the deep ledge of the window opening. “Go on.”
“His name is Andrew Charles. He’s from . . . well, let’s just say he disappeared from his home and I’m trying to find him.”
“Why?”
“Why,” she repeated with contemplation. Or was she stalling in an effort to fabricate another lie? “The boy’s father had many people looking for him, but he seemed to think I was the only one who could actually get the job done. Luckily, I did pick up his trail.”
“A man hired you to find his son.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“A man hired a woman to find his son.”
“You don’t have to make it sound so offensive.” She rolled her eyes. “I suppose you think it’s perfectly all right to hire a woman for her body but not for her mind?”
“I suppose that depends upon the lady’s state of mind.” Which, for her, was questionable at this point. He ignored her exasperated groan. “So you have tracked Andrew to this mission. Now he’s run away.”
“Kidnapped,” she reminded him.
“Oh—yes, I do remember you clarifying that detail. And how was it you came by this information? No, let me guess—Gabriella told you.”
She glared at him, her lips a tight line.
“Am I right?” He had been joking with her, but he should have known better. Her silent stare made him grow increasingly uncomfortable. “By God, I am right.”
“Does it really matter, Blake? No matter what I say, you’ll still think I’m crazy. Am I right?” she mocked, cocking her head to mimic his surprise. “By God, I am right.”
“Can you honestly blame me for feeling this way?”
His question took the wind out of her sails. “No, I can’t,” she answered in defeat. “Nearly everyone reacts the same as you have. Some more so than others. Believe it or not, there are times when even I question my own sanity. Especially now.”
She wanted to say more. He saw it in the shape of her mouth, her lips parted as if she were about to speak but decided against doing so. Her frown deepened.
From where he stood at the window, he sensed a certain hopelessness, a certain despair. He wanted to go to her side but held back, reluctant to fall into the trap again. Keoni had warned him about dancing to her tune. Her sadness played upon his weakness for her. Damned if he didn’t feel a knife in his gut, cutting him clear through.
She broke the silence between them, her voice soft and low. “After everything you have done for me, Blake, I have no right to ask another favor of you.”
“What is it?”
“Please, don’t leave me behind here at the mission.”
“Do you think I would?” A twinge of guilt poked at his conscience. She could not have possibly known he had been contemplating those very same thoughts. “Why do you suppose I have been waiting around since yesterday?”
“Things have changed now. But I swear to you, I’m not crazy. And I won’t cause any trouble. Honest. Just promise me you’ll take me to San Diego, Blake. Promise me?” Her pleading tore at him. He had to get out of the room before he found himself comforting her. For he knew if he allowed himself within two feet of her, he would be unable to resist reaching out and touching her. And if their past was any evidence, he would not stop there. He would want to hold her and kiss her.
And make love to her.
“I must find Lupe,” he said abruptly, heading for the door. “She should be on her way back with your breakfast.”
“Blake, wait.”
He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “I will return, Cara.”
Late in the gloomy morning, Cara bathed and dressed in her clean clothes Lupe had brought back to her. Although the distance to the beach was only a mile on the high, flat tableland, Blake wanted her to be ready to leave after the midday meal in order for them to have ample time to descend the cliff trail. He was concerned about her lack of strength and planned to make her take as many rests as necessary.
Despite her quick recovery from the twenty-four-hour bug, she knew it would take her a while to feel completely restored to normal again. But she intended to make it all the way back to the ship without a single complaint. She didn’t dare do anything that would risk losing her transportation to San Diego. Even though her sixth sense had not been very keen over the last day or so, she had picked up something from Blake about his reluctance to continue helping her. Right now, she had no other ally to aid her search for Andrew. Until someone else came along with the means to get her from port to port, she had to make the best of things.
After eating a hearty lunch that included more medicinal broth, Cara accepted a leather pouch of the herbs from Lupe, who told her how to prepare it. As she said goodbye to the old woman, Blake walked up to the two of them.
“¿Cuánto le debo?” he asked Lupe, reaching into his jacket for money.
She shook her head. “I am only a handmaiden of my Lord,” she told them in Spanish. “He sent you to me so I may be of help. No money is expected.”
Extending his gratitude, Blake held out a handful of reals. Again, she waved it off with a shake of her hand. He glanced at Cara. “You speak their language better than I do. Tell her if she will not accept for herself, at least take it as a gift to the church.”
After Cara spoke reassuringly to Lupe, the old woman nodded, accepting the charity on behalf of the mission. Their farewell was interrupted by a small boy approaching with two horses that had been saddled and bridled, both having lassos coiled around the large pommels.
When Blake asked for her assistance with the language once more, Cara learned from the barefoot child that the animals were sent by the mayordomo of the mission for the short journey to the cliffs.
She stroked the white blaze on the chestnut mare, who nuzzled her palm. “She’s beautiful. Bet she runs like the wind.”
“You know how to ride astride?”
“Oh, sure.”
“I suppose I should not be surprised.”
According to the boy, the mayordomo expected the extravagant sum of sixteen reals, the normal cost of a full day’s use. This amount of two dollars was actually for the saddles, not the horses, which were more or less thrown in for free.
Blake considered the deal, then turned to Cara. “Perhaps if you were a bit stronger you could handle her. These horses know only two speeds—a slow walk and a fast run. Nothing in between. It would be best if you rode with me.” She didn’t welcome the idea of the two of them on the back of one horse, with her arms wrapped around his middle, her breasts pressed against his back. Nope. Huh-uh. This was not a good thing. She was already having a tough enough time keeping her hands to herself, continually reminding the little horny devil inside her body that ladies in the nineteenth century didn’t go around groping handsome and virile men.
Ladies don’t do ANY of the things you’ve been doing since you got here.
A valid point, she told that impish voice. Still, she somehow managed to resist the temptation to let her libido run amok.
“I think I’d rather walk,” she said, hoping to convince Blake that she didn’t need the horse. “It’s only a mile. I could use the exercise.”
“Nonsense.”
He paid eight reals for one mount to the wide-eyed boy, who ran off to deliver the money to his superior. Blake led the chestnut mare to a low stone wall so Cara could easily climb up behind him.
Well, at least she’d given it a shot. Now it looked like she was going to be snuggled up to Blake whether she liked it or not. That was the trouble . . . she knew darn well she’d like it. Too much.
As they rode toward the mission entrance, the padre and his two helpers stood at the gates, their faces without smiles. Cara sensed their suspicion and fear. When the horse passed, the neophytes took a step back, crossing themselves. The Reverend Father remained rooted in his spot, his chin high as if in defiance.
Though she and Blake bid “Muchas gracias” and “Adiós,” the slender man barely acknowledged their words, giving an almost imperceptible nod.
Cara maintained her smile, murmuring, “What’s gotten into them?”
Leaving the mission behind, Blake turned his head slightly to speak over his shoulder to Cara. “Perhaps Lupe told them about your . . . vision.”
“If so, I doubt they would’ve behaved so oddly. Seeing the angel of mercy would be a blessing. But they acted like we’ve been cursed.”
A cold chill prickled her arms with goose bumps.
“I would bet it is you who frightens them,” he said.
“Me?!”
“Didn’t you notice that the father never once came to your room?”
“Actually, I was sort of out of it yesterday.”
“Out of it?”
She clarified, “I didn’t notice much of anything.” Except Gabriella.
And you.
“When I carried you in there unconscious, he thought you were a boy in those clothes, with that shorn hair. He was quite taken aback to learn you were a woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him about Lupe’s claim that you were one of them.”
Unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone, Cara itemized, “So I am a woman, which immediately puts me on a lower rung of intelligent life. And I dress like a man with short hair, which marks me for suspicion. I’m part Indian, which means less than zero. Ah—! Let’s not forget I had the audacity to survive my illness.”
“Not only survive, Cara. To them, your turnaround probably seemed miraculous. You beat the devil.”
“Or else they think I am the devil.” Another involuntary shiver rippled through her body.
“Cold?”
“A little,” she fudged, though it was partly true that the cool, stiff breeze was a bit uncomfortable.
“Try not to dwell on it,” he suggested. “Think of something warm.”
“I am.” Your body.
The rest of the ride proved to be just as difficult as her mind had predicted. By the time they arrived at the trailhead at the top of the cliffs, her muscles were sore from the tense position she’d maintained the entire time, trying to keep from relaxing too much, leaning too close, holding on too tight.
She slid down from behind Blake, landing with a jolt that nearly buckled her weak knees. He followed, but with more finesse than she’d displayed. Then again, he hadn’t been sick in bed yesterday either, she reminded herself.
“What do we do about the horse?” she asked, giving an appreciative pat to its cheek.
“She knows her way back to the water.” He headed toward the trail with his leather bag in hand.
The animal turned its face to her. She smiled into the dark equine eyes, silently thanking the mare. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
“Are you talking to that horse?”
“Don’t you talk to your dog?”
“That’s different.”
“It is?”
“Of course. Bud is . . .”
“One of God’s creatures, just like this sweet mare.” The chestnut dropped her head, allowing Cara to give her a quick kiss on the bony ridge of her nose. “Be a good girl now and show me how you can find your way home.”
Impatient with her, Blake groused, “Oh-for-the-love-of—”
His muttering was silenced as the horse turned back toward the mission. Cara made a big production of dusting off her hands, then casually marched right past the slack-jawed captain, left staring at the departure of one very perceptive and obedient horse.
Her smug victory in one-upmanship was short-lived, however. Stopping at the edge of the cliff, she looked down four hundred feet to the surf below. Getting there was going to be far more difficult than the climb had been two days ago. And that was before the fever and chills had knocked her for a loop, draining her of half her energy.
On the way up, she’d been extra careful to follow a few yards behind Blake, noting every placement of his step so she could duplicate it. As agile as spider monkeys, they’d jumped over breaks and scrambled up steep faces. Always keeping her eyes focused upward, she’d seen only the gray skies beyond Blake.
Now, she had an entirely different view of the near vertical drop. Looking down, she saw the craggy shoreline white with foam from the crashing waves. Any other day she might not have balked at this adventurous test of her physical and mental outdoor skills. She and Mark would have considered it a Sunday stroll in the park. But today she wasn’t up to snuff. Not by a long shot.
Leading the way again, Blake stayed close, almost too close. Though grateful for his constant handholds to steady her, she had to concentrate all the harder when a zing of electricity would zap through her body at the slightest touch of his flesh.
Calling directions up to her, he told her how far to inch her foot to the left or right for the safest toehold. She practically jumped out of her skin the first time his fingers gently wrapped around her ankle, guiding her shoe down to an imperceptible lip in the rock. Twice, he was positioned below her as if on the lower rung of a ladder, coaching her downward movement unt
il she was sandwiched between the slick granite and his hard body. His labored breathing in her ear was more disconcerting than the dizzying height.
The second time it happened, she briefly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to regain some equilibrium.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his breath warming her neck.
“Shaky.” Thanks to you.
“Then we’ll rest here for a few minutes.” He slightly shifted his stance to stabilize his weight on the ledge.
“Here?” she squeaked, acutely aware of his pelvis against her bottom.
“I don’t want you to become overly tired.”
What about overly stimulated? She wanted to ask but decided against letting him know she was getting turned on while perched on a twelve-inch precipice one hundred feet above the jagged rocks.
By the time they reached the stony beach below, her nerves were beyond frazzled, though not only from their exhaustive descent.
Her entire time-traveling experience had become one big, scary high-wire act strung between two centuries. Struggling to keep her wits about her with Blake, she had leaned too far one way with the lies about Andrew. Before she lost her footing completely, she had tried the truth and went too far the other direction. Up until now, she had tried both deceit and honesty, only to find that neither one had worked well with Blake.
Doubts and fears rolled over her, threatening to upset her precarious balance even further. Once again, she began to wonder how in the world she was ever going to find Andrew, let alone get home.
Chapter 10
Not long after Blake and Cara reached the base of the cliffs, the Kānaka from the Valiant brought the longboat to shore. He helped her to board, settling her in the stern sheets near him, then gave the order to shove off. Facing aft, his men stretched out well at their oars, pulling them through the rough swells while Blake took the place of the steersman.
The skies grew darker with each passing minute. A sense of impending danger settled in his bones. With luck, they would reach the ship before the gale, slip anchor, and escape the clutches of another southeaster. Masking his concern, he glanced at Cara, surprised to see her watching him.
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