Rebel Heart

by Young, Christine

  "Need I remind you that you sent me to save her sweet little hide? No? Well, I'll tell you this, it was no easy feat. She fought me on the ladder nearly falling to her death. Then she tried to escape me and ran straight into the barrage from Sheridan's fighter planes. If that wasn't enough, when we got to the cabin for a little rest and peace, she tried to seduce me and ply me with wine in hopes I would save her from Savage. Savage! You realize of course that now even after we've married, she has called me nothing but barbarian, or baboon. I promise you, much more of this and I will give her to Morray on a silver platter." His eyes narrowed perceptibly. "How the hell did she get out of the tower?"

  Jonathan laughed. "So she's smarter than you think. She has tricks. She's always had tricks. Her father could never figure it out either and he had years to look. He owned the tower, and still he didn't know how she did it."

  Cameron felt his fury transcend all other feelings, seeping deep to the pit of his stomach. "Jonathan, I tell you, this is not a laughing matter. If Morray finds her, or if Sheridan runs across her while she's flitting around the City or the countryside, we will be hard put to save her from them again."

  "I understand," Jonathan said quickly. Then he ran his hands through his hair, somewhat at a loss for words. "I never told you about the passageway?"

  Cameron stepped forward swiftly. "What passageway?"

  "Behind the bookshelves in her room there is a long set of steps. They go on forever and eventually they leave the City behind. It lets out beneath a waterfall. She's used it for years. DeMontville never knew and of course as children we never dreamt of telling him."

  "There is an escape route in the tower?" Cameron repeated, his voice hardening.

  "Yes."

  "I nearly lost her on those old rusty ladder rungs, and there was a passageway at our disposal. Yet she was planning on going down the ladder. She had already left the safety of her room and was dangling out the window."

  Jonathan had the temerity to look a little sheepish. "Sorry. I forgot. What can I say?"

  Cameron stepped back. "Sorry will do for now. But I'm telling you, the passageway is going to be locked. And it's something else she can complain about because I'm going to have the only key." He paused a moment. "Why that little fool! She merely told Luke she wanted to rest and voila she's free."

  "She was so excited, so angry, she was a mass of nerves, but she had to tell me what you'd done," Jonathan said.

  "I will make love to her so often she will be too tired to get out of bed."

  Jonathan laughed. "That sounds like a good plan. When are going to tell her you're The Phantom?"

  "She already knows. The woman isn't stupid, Jonathan. The Phantom is the reason we're having such a difficult time."

  "What now?"

  "I don't know," Cameron said quietly. "I do so respect her courage, her strength as well as her determination, but..."

  Jonathan nodded in another direction. "Perhaps she will always keep you on your toes."

  "Hell, I couldn't find her this morning."

  "There is no more time," Jonathan interrupted. "I have to leave."

  Savage glanced at his watch. "Go Jonathan. I'll be there as soon as I can." He handed over the envelope. Their eyes met for a moment then Jonathan turned. Cameron watched as Jonathan stepped into the sunlight and strode down the long walkway toward the government buildings.

  Victoria

  What if the debate went on for hours? What if he saw her? What if he went somewhere with Jonathan?

  She was finding a greater and greater attraction to the man.

  He had made a point to include her when he could have simply deciphered the information on her pins by himself. She had no doubt the codes would have caused him little trouble. To Tori's irritation, she had heard her sister more than once proclaim how handsome he was, and how very, very kind. Perhaps he was all these things, tall and strikingly handsome, indomitable with all-knowing dark amber eyes and ebony hair. Perhaps...

  Perhaps there were things truly praiseworthy about him. He was always there when she needed him--dependable. Even when he was soaring to the heavens then dropping swiftly to the earth in less than a heartbeat of time, she had felt safe from both Sheridan and Morray. Then there was the way he held her in the dark of the night and the soft persuasive brush of his lips against hers. There was the stormy, uncontrollable tempest that raged deep inside her when his hands explored her. There was the way he made her reach out and feel as if she could truly touch the stars.

  He loved her magnificently.

  But there was more. There was his temper and his resolve to have his own way in all things. So he was a tender, caring lover. So what! She was not the only one to moan with pleasure when their bodies fused together as one. He wanted her-- seemed to crave her. She struggled with her memories, clasping her lips between her teeth, sorry for the things she said in confidence. It was too late to lament her abominable tongue. Nessa would tell her to apologize and let the past go. It was behind her now and she could do nothing about it. But she had been so explicit in her hate. She had not pulled any punches, not even one.

  She knew everything about her husband, yet nothing at all, she reminded herself. She rocked slightly, her arms still wrapped around her knees. When she closed her eyes, she could see him clearly. The bronze of his flesh, the dark hair on his chest, the swirl of it that led in a narrowing to his waist then flared out again at his groin. His strength of character, the way he loved her people and treated them with such kindness.

  She didn't want to love him, she thought miserably. She wouldn't, would not let it happen. She might never have felt this way if she had not realized The Phantom and Savage were the same.

  A wave of heat swept through her, and her heart accelerated. She wanted to deny the truth. He was not a barbarian. She looked forward to their time together, alone at night, in the softness of her bed while he held her tenderly, whispering sexy and sometimes naughty words.

  No, she wouldn't fall in love with him...

  She stepped from the secret passageway, dusting her hands and flipping her hair from her face.

  She hurried toward town then through the park, past the Counselor's office, the Judges chambers, and the prison, until she reached the back of the assembly room. As she neared the entrance, she slowed down, her heart quickening as people came and went.

  Blend in with them and no one will ever know the difference. The clanging from the kitchen and the aroma of food filled her. She was reminded that she hadn't eaten in a very long time.

  She grabbed a box of goods from a delivery truck parked there and walked inside, carrying it directly to a long counter that already held a few of the same boxes. She turned, surveying the room. Several long aprons hung on the wall nearby. Swiftly she pulled one down and put it on. Picking up a tray of silverware, she made her way into the dining area.

  Blend, she reminded herself once more.

  Pretending a nonchalance she didn't feel, Tori set the tray down. While no one watched she walked from the room. No one stopped her. She moved swiftly through the hall toward a seldom-used staircase, slipping the apron off as she went then tossing it in a closet.

  A man stood at the top. She smiled. Her hand rested on the banister, fingers trembling. She paused a moment then stepped forward, one stair at a time. They passed each other. He nodded and she held her breath.

  "Miss?"

  She turned, her hand at her throat as if the gesture could calm her heart. "What?"

  "Do you know when the assembly will finish?"

  She started to say something then changed her mind. "No..." her voice trailed away. "No, I don't."

  He grunted something, she wasn't sure exactly what, then turned again. She watched as he slowly moved down the stairs and into the hall, eventually disappearing.

  She kept walking and carefully made her way to a small room on the second floor. Stepping through the door, she grinned. Dust covered the desks and chairs of the old room. She plugged
her nose to keep from sneezing. Then she slipped through a closet door just as she'd done a thousand times before, closing it gently behind her. She sat crossed-legged on the floor. A heavy velvet drape covered the wall. It was red, a deep burgundy red. She remembered it well.

  She inhaled deeply then held her breath as she pushed the material aside. A small knothole was in front of her. The wall had been made of solid oak. The building was ancient. This room was ancient too. How long this little hole had been here she didn't know, but she'd discovered it when she was about six, on a hot stuffy day not so unlike this one when her father had told her to go play somewhere.

  Peering into the assembly room, she concentrated on the scene.

  Sheridan had the floor. The room was quiet yet restless. Men yawned and nodded off then would jerk themselves awake. She kept looking, and finally she found Jonathan. His jaw was set in a hard, firm line, eyes blazing. Her husband sat next to him, drumming his fingers on the railing in front. She knew that look well: raw fury.

  The delaying tactics did not come as a surprise. Jonathan surely must have anticipated this. He must have some type of plan to stop this, or it would never come to a vote. The assembly would break up today. It could be extended longer if someone else could manage to speak. Even as she watched, Morray stood and Sheridan surrendered the floor. The filibuster went on.

  This ploy today seemed awful, for there was so much at stake here.

  So many still lying in hospitals, suffering needlessly.

  The speaker of the assembly yawned, his gavel still in hand, but there was nothing he could do as long as one of Sheridan's men held the floor. She had to do something.

  Beneath artificial light, with the scent of leather and wood polish, men argued and used every debating trick imaginable, not for the good of the country or the world but for their own gain. Tori wracked her brain for some way to change the inevitable conclusion of this. There was so very little going on she was sure she could hear the hall clock ticking away the seconds and their hope.

  "Morray, no..." she accidentally gasped out. Instantly contrite, she covered her mouth with her hands.

  It was too late.

  Cameron looked up. His gaze probed the wall high above the room.

  Morray reached into his back pocket and drawing a handkerchief out, he wiped his brow. It seemed as if time stopped. Morray swayed then with confusion on his face, he turned in a full circle. She was sure he forgot what he was supposed to do because he sat down, still wiping his brow.

  Jonathan quickly leapt to his feet and began speaking.

  Her husband continued to watch, his eyes narrowing, yet it seemed as if she could hear him.

  Run now, Tori. It's your only chance.

  She cringed back from the hole in the wall as if that would give her some protection. She didn't actually hear the words, but she could read his mind. Terrified and trembling from head to toe, she looked again. Then she froze.

  Jonathan was still standing, delivering his speech and calling for a vote. All she could see of her husband was his back.

  Run? Dear Lord, she couldn't even move. He was leaving the assembly room, she reminded herself. Run. But there was nowhere to run.

  Silence reigned--an eerie forbidding silence. One that stretched every nerve ending to its limits. The hot sultry air in the little closet was suddenly too horrid to breathe and she was reminded of the cave and her fear.

  She recalled every detail that led her to this point. She remembered seeing the video of the genetic scientist just before he was executed, and she relived his last words, relived also her vows that day. Every detail of a night not so long ago came to mind when she cradled a dying infant to her breast. The baby's mother had died only minutes before.

  She shuddered at the sound of footsteps outside the door. It had taken him a long time to get here. Then she trembled anew when the door slowly creaked open. Tori pushed herself to the farthest corner of the closet.

  Suddenly a beam of light shone directly at her, and a soft and strangely husky but so very commanding voice whispered, "Victoria."

  Standing in the doorway, his silhouette blocking the rest of the light, he'd never looked so fearsome, so dangerous. He didn't move for the longest time. His feet were spread and his hands touched both sides of the doorframe. She couldn't see his expression. He let the silence and her terror drag on. She had been so sure of herself, so sure that he would not catch her.

  "I cannot begin to understand how you found your way through security," he told her softly.

  She shook her head then nodded. It was all she could do. Her throat was dry, and she choked on the words. "I…"

  Tori moistened her lips. She knew it was her last chance for an explanation. She waved her hand in front of her face. She felt them shake, felt the slow trickle of sweat run down her cheek.

  She heard the soft rustle of movement against the stillness of the air. Then his hand touched hers.

  She gasped. She was pulled to her feet, stumbling against him, quickly pushing away. He let her go. She started to choke out her indignation, totally aware that it was futile.

  Tori stood tall, her spine stiff, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her into his arms. Sweeping her off her feet, he carried her a few paces to an old dusty chair then unceremoniously dropped her into it. Her teeth chattering, she gazed at her husband.

  "Cameron."

  "Getting caught is often hard to take," he told her sternly. "What the devil did you think to gain by that little stunt?"

  "I think it was fairly obvious," she defended herself, refusing now to admit it was an accident and that she had not meant to say anything. "Without that little stunt you'd still all be sleeping in your chairs and Jonathan's bill would have never come to a vote. You should be thanking me."

  "If you're discovered, it could all become null and void. We could be prosecuted for treason. I haven't a clue how to get you out of here."

  Her chin rose a notch and she tried to get up from the chair. He held her back.

  "Stay put. And above all else don't show yourself."

  Hours moved slowly by, moonlight now filtered through the room, and still she sat primly, with her hands folded in her lap, and still he paced, waiting. The assembly had long since broken up. She heard the men's voices on the street below, the argument continuing even as they left.

  Still they waited.

  The room grew darker and darker, the moon long ago disappearing behind the hills. Finally, they moved. He reached down without a word, pulling her swiftly from the chair.

  There was no recourse for her.

  Cameron did not let go of her hand, even as he gently pushed the door open and silently stepped into the long hall. He pulled her along.

  "I can do this without your assistance," she said stiffly.

  "Really?"

  "I know you're dying to find out what happened to Jonathan's bill."

  "I already know."

  "Ah, but it's only guesses. You can't possibly know for sure," she said softly.

  He didn't respond for some time.

  He swung her around and pulled her close to his chest, his hand resting at her waist. "You set out to bait me."

  "It seems that you take it quite easily."

  He chuckled softly then hurried with her, retracing the path they had both taken to get here. At the back entrance, Cameron slipped the bolt and left the building. She ran, stumbling to keep up with his long strides. Out of breath, her heart racing, he finally stopped the mad dash beneath a canopy of trees, pulling her into his arms. Tori gasped, suddenly weary.

  How terrifyingly curious just hours before she had been feeling mystifying twinges of concern and care about her husband.

  Now she felt her flesh burning "Ah, sweetheart, I have been obsessed with you, and I know not why. I cannot seem to hold you long enough, or love you deep enough."

  She tried to struggle away from him. "You're joking. You are eager to lock me away, never to look at me again. You se
ek to change me and I will not change for anyone."

  "I only want to understand. I would never--"

  "You try at every opportunity." She was beyond reason, she knew it, yet still she could not stop herself. There was sarcasm in her tone and she shuddered. She wanted to be free of him, and she didn't want to finish this conversation. Matching wits with her husband was a dangerous game, and she'd never been good at it.