“How did he take that volatile temper of yours, Alanna?”
Some of the humor went out of her. “You can probably guess. It was simply a matter of control as far as he was concerned. Mind over matter or whatever.” She gave a little shrug. “He had a minor in psychology, and he was convinced that my childhood was responsible for my reckless emotional state.”
Matt tilted his head, watching her closely. “In what way?”
She finished her half of the candy bar, making a small knot of the paper and slipping it into her drenched raincoat pocket. “Both my mom and dad died in a car crash when I was two. I—I don’t really remember too much about it. My aunt told me I was in the hospital for almost six months recovering.” She forced a smile. “In a way, I’m glad it didn’t happen when I could recall it. It would be too painful…too horrible,” she murmured, swallowing hard. She looked away from his compassionate gaze, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Why on earth was she letting him evoke all of these long-buried emotions? She had brought up the subject of her childhood only once with Paul, and he had never let her forget that it was responsible for her rash temper and explosive reactions. And if she cried, he would calmly tell her that it wasn’t necessary, that her parents had been dead twenty-seven years and it was far past the time to bury that memory and go on living. She hugged her arms around her knees, drawing them close and shutting her eyes tightly, hating to hear those same sing-song words echoing in the corners of her mind. It had been a year since she’d left Paul, and she could still recall with absolute clarity his speech on the topic.
“Did your aunt and uncle raise you then?”
Alanna looked up, responding to the coaxing gentleness in his voice. “Yes. I know they loved me, but it just didn’t turn out right. Both of them had their own careers, and they didn’t have any children of their own.” She shrugged. “I spent a lot of my time reading books, writing stories in my room. I learned how to keep myself entertained.”
Matt nodded, rising. He held out his hand to her. “Personally, I like your unleashed emotions,” he murmured.
Alanna’s lips parted as she looked at his outstretched hand. Without thinking first, she placed her smaller one in it, feeling the warmth of his grip as his fingers closed around hers. He pulled her upward easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her heart was pounding erratically, and it wasn’t from the altitude. It was from his touch.
Matt released her, a curious smile on his mouth as he reached out, lightly brushing her cheek with his fingers. “Alanna, don’t ever apologize for who and what you are. The woman underneath is very warm and loving. Let her surface,” he murmured. “Let yourself laugh and cry. Don’t let someone tell you that it’s right or wrong. And throw that damn logic of yours out the window. It’s stifling the hell out of you. Come on, we’ve got some time to make up.”
A tremor of longing coursed through her. For a split second, she thought he was going to lean over and kiss her, but then he turned and started up the trail. She wanted to feel his mouth upon hers once again, she admitted to herself. He was honest in a way she had never known a man to be. Woodenly, she followed him up the trail, so many sensations exploding within her that another mile fell away under her feet without notice.
* * *
He called a halt at the fourth mile, and Alanna leaned heavily against a tree, sliding down to the wet ground with a sigh. “Thank you,” she murmured sincerely, removing her shoes and trying to shake the accumulated mud out of them. He smiled, squatting down in front of her.
“You have heart, I’ll give you that. Maybe not a lot of common sense, but you’re a stayer,” he said, opening the canteen and offering it to her.
Alanna grinned recklessly, feeling vital even though she was on the brink of physical exhaustion. “Paul would have said not to let the heart rule the head. Causes stomach ulcers or some such thing.”
“I’d rather have the ulcers,” Matt commented, returning the grin.
She gave the canteen back to him, enjoying his closeness. “Why are you so easy to talk to?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It’s the chemistry between us,” he explained.
Alanna laughed lightly. “Oh sure, nitroglycerine and dynamite. A wonderful combination!”
“I’m not sorry about it. When I first saw you, I thought you were going to be one of those doves from the Hill who quotes economics.”
“I am.”
“No. Not really. Behind all that senatorial power you wield, there’s another side to you.” He pursed his lips. “look at you now: you’re in a foreign element, wet and probably hungry, and yet, you’ve come all this way without complaining. Think about it.” He got up, and she automatically held out her hand to him.
This time, he did not let go of her hand; instead, he pulled her toward him. Alanna’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up into his intent face, a shiver of expectancy racing through her trembling body. She felt his thumb lazily trace the outline of her jaw, trailing down the expanse of her slender neck. Her pulse accelerated wildly beneath his exploring touch.
“Such an incredible creature,” he murmured in her ear, pulling her against him. His mouth brushed her forehead, eyes and cheeks and dormant emotions she had long thought dead stirred to life. She shivered helplessly at his whispered words, his breath warm and moist against her face. Artlessly responding to his touch, she slid her arms across his shoulders, her fingers entwining behind his neck. She was aware of his skin, a little rough like sandpaper, against her cheek, and of the male scent of him that made her heady with anticipation. His mouth claimed hers gently, parting her lips, grazing them tantalizingly with his tongue. Alanna moaned softly, resting against his hard, unyielding body, her knees weakening.
His mouth dominated hers as she responded to his urging. This kiss was so different from the first—tender, tentative, searching and asking her to participate fully in the exploration. Hungrily, she returned the pressure of his mouth, feeling him suddenly stiffen, a groan coming from deep inside him as his embrace tightened around her. His arms pinned her hips against him, and she was burningly aware of his straining body. His tongue probed her mouth, tasting the inner recesses, creating a vortex of fiery desire that uncoiled from the center of her body. His hands slid upward, cupping her face now, dragging her inexorably into the passion of the moment. She longed to continue this new, exciting experience. But slowly, reluctantly, he removed his mouth from her parted, wet lips. She could only stare childlike up into his undisguised features, into eyes flaring with a silver glint of desire for her alone. A shadow seemed to darken his gaze for an instant, and she felt a subtle change in the charged atmosphere surrounding them. Was it worry? Disappointment? Alanna couldn’t be sure as she pulled herself from his embrace, feeling desire and rejection within the same moment.
But it was the rejection that finally won out. Alanna suddenly felt unsure of herself, and she took a few steps away from him, her fingertips touching her sensitized lips.
“Alanna?”
“Nothing,” she whispered painfully. “We’d better get going,” she said, feeling as if she were babbling like a child.
“Wait—”
She avoided his outstretched fingers, twisting away. “No,” she cried.
“Dammit, don’t run away from me. Come here.” He put a restraining hand on her arm and she halted. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.
She raised her hand, making a small gesture of irritation. “Nothing. Everything,” she confessed.
“Look at me,” he commanded. He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Why are you behaving like this?”
She felt the hotness of tears gathering in her eyes. How could she tell him that she had never been kissed like that before? That Paul’s kisses were drab in comparison? How could she, a twenty-nine-year-old woman, have been unaware of so much of life? Of feeling? A pang of regret went through her, and she lowered her lashes against her cheekbones. “Y-you frighten me, Matt,” she whispered.
/> She felt his hands sliding down over her shoulders, holding her arms. “In what way, Babe?”
Oh, damn, she was going to cry! She pulled a hand free, dashing away the telltale dampness. Paul hated her tears, and he was a civilian. A military man would be sure to think them a sign of weakness.
“Alanna,” he coaxed, “why are you scared? Tell me.”
She looked up, the tears streaming unchecked now down her pale cheeks, the anguish she was feeling very evident in her green eyes. “I thought I knew who I was,” she mumbled, “and—and, I don’t. I mean, you seem to bring out a whole other side of me. Someone, something that was lost.”
He gave her a gentle shake. “No, Babe, not lost, just hidden inside. Listen to me, Alanna. Your aunt and uncle started the process by giving you no outlet for your emotions, and then Paul reinforced your fear of expressing yourself. But don’t be frightened.” His words were spoken with a hushed urgency. “You’re a giving, loving woman with so much warmth and sensitivity. Let your emotions surface and remain a part of you.”
She choked back a sob. “You’re a stranger I met two days ago. How can you be right? Paul never made me feel like this. My aunt, my uncle…why now?” she whispered hoarsely. “And why you? Oh, God, this is such a mess.” She freed herself of his grip, stumbling blindly back toward the tree to pick up the briefcase. Her heart ached with renewed anguish and pain. She touched her breast in reaction, doggedly walking along the trail, head bowed, bitter tears rolling down her face.
Her mind assailed her with facts and logical explanations. But the pain was real and so was the excitement coursing through her body. If Matt Breckenridge could cause this much emotion to surface in two short days, what would happen if she stayed around him longer? Suddenly, without reason, Alanna wanted to escape. He brought back ugly, half-forgotten memories and old hurts. She remembered times she had hidden in the bedroom closet as a child, sobbing her heart out for her unknown parents; and times when she had gone for long walks outside Paul’s Georgetown apartment, hiding her tears from everyone until she could find an empty street devoid of staring eyes where the pent-up flood of emotion could be expressed.
They walked the last mile in gloomy silence. Matt trailed behind her, saying nothing, allowing her to pick her own pace. They arrived at the village near five o’clock in the afternoon, and the fog was again thickening like a wall of cotton around them. Alanna slowed as they neared the center of the village. The ruin and destruction were complete: homes had been torn apart like so many houses made of cards. Police and civilians covered with mud, their faces slack with exhaustion, moved among the rubble with shovels and pickaxes. Stretchers with bodies covered in plastic lay near the small medical facility housed beneath a large tent. Alanna looked away, unable to stand the sight of it. Matt took her arm, pulling her close.
“Look,” he murmured, “you’ve been through enough today. I had hoped the fog would lift so that after you got your supply count, we could fly back to base. There’s nothing up here, Alanna. No protection, no hut to sleep in, and no food.”
The words sank into her exhausted mind. His fingers felt like a brand against her skin, and she longed to pull away, but she was too tired. She needed the strength that exuded from him. Wearily, she nodded. “What can we do?”
He pursed his mouth, looking around. “Let me take you over to our supply area to get your count. While you’re doing that, I’m going to let Captain Jackson know I’m up here and try to smooth out any problems that have developed since we left base. I’ll be back to get you later.”
Chapter Five
Matt found her working between two walls of crates that were sheltered beneath a canvas covering. The glare of the flashlight hurt her eyes, and she turned her head away.
“It’s quitting time,” he noted, halting close to where she sat hunched over.
Alanna wearily reached out, using a crate to steady her as she stood. Matt’s hand fitted firmly beneath her arm, helping her up. His touch sent a tingling sensation up her arm, and she pulled away. The humidity and fog had curled her hair so that long tendrils framed her face, softening the lines of tension that had accumulated there during the day.
“Quitting time means I can go home,” she responded, her voice sounding a million miles away even to her.
Matt offered her a slight smile, his fingers closing around her upper arm as he led her from beneath the covering. “That’s usually a logical assumption.”
Alanna wanted to escape his presence, and at the same time, she yearned simply to rest against his lean, seemingly tireless body and collapse. To be in his arms. To be held by him. Yes, he would do that for her if she asked. At the thought a half-formed smile touched her lips. Already she had come to expect a unique kind of tenderness from him that she would never have expected in a man. Much less a Marine. But she couldn’t allow that to occur. If it did, it would dredge up more unwanted emotions. As she worked, she had mulled over her response to Matt Breckenridge. It was nothing short of a miracle…but one that she could never allow to unfold and blossom within the warmth of his compassion or understanding. To do so would be to rock her carefully balanced world and to place her job in jeopardy. He represented the emotional freedom she longed for. Yet, at the same time, he was a threat to her sense of security. He was dangerous.
Alanna silently marveled at the changing pressure of his fingers against her arm as he guided her through the foggy darkness toward some unknown destination. The ground was a rutted, muddy quagmire from the recent rain. Matt seemed to have the eyes of a jungle jaguar as he continued out of the village, leaving the weeping sound of women and children in the distance.
“Where are we going?” she asked dully, not really caring because of utter exhaustion.
“Home,” he murmured. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?” he mused softly, almost to himself.
Alanna lifted her chin, trying to fathom the expression on his darkened features. There had been a momentary huskiness in his voice, almost a wistful note. “I thought you said we couldn’t get off the mountain.”
“We can’t.” He slowed, flashing the beam of light in front of them to reveal a small tent. “This is ‘home’ for tonight. Come on, get those ruined shoes off your feet and take off the wet clothes you’re wearing. I’ve got some dry utilities and an extra pair of socks and boots you can wear.”
A gasp came from her lips as she turned, facing him. “I can’t sleep here!”
Matt grinned, cocking his head to one side and studying her with interest. “Sure you can.”
“But…” she sputtered. “I mean—it’s too small for two people!”
He walked to the tent, throwing up the small flap. “While you’re arguing the ethics of our situation, how about changing clothes? You’re shivering. Come on,” he coaxed.
Alanna remained frozen to the spot, her eyes wide. She simply couldn’t sleep that close to him! The poignant memory of his kiss soared through her like a white-hot flame beckoning her to give in. Another equally panicky feeling replaced it. “Don’t you have two tents?” she asked hoarsely.
Matt pulled out several utensils and cleared a small space for a fire. He squatted down, pushing the cap back off his head. Dark strands of hair dipped across his forehead as he concentrated his attention on the task of getting them some hot food. “Lady, you’re lucky I have one tent. Are you going to stand there all night shivering, or do I have to drag you in there and undress you?”
Her heart leaped once at the velvet threat in his voice. Alanna had dealt with him long enough to know he meant it. Hastily she gathered up the briefcase and sloshed through the mud toward the tent. “I’ll do it,” she replied in a small voice.
He nodded. “Now you’re being reasonable. By the time you’re changed, we ought to have a meal.”
* * *
Alanna watched him warily across the campfire as she dug hungrily into the food he had prepared. A light rain began to fall just as they finished. She dejectedly scratched the idea of sl
eeping outside and letting him have the tent. Her nerves fairly screamed with tension at the thought of being so close to him in such confining quarters.
“I’ll clean up, Alanna. You take the sleeping bag on the right. I’d suggest you strip down to a shirt and socks for the night.”
“What?”
Matt looked up, a wry smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think you’ll sleep comfortably in combat boots. Do you?”
She had the good grace to blush, scrambling awkwardly to her feet. The olive drab shirt and trousers were many sizes too large, and she looked like a lost waif within them. Clenching her hands at her sides, she had enough courage to blurt out, “Does our sleeping arrangement still stand?”
His gray eyes darkened slightly. “That’s up to you,” he answered, his voice a soft, rough whisper.
Pursing her lips, she muttered, “Separate corners. Just like base camp.”
He shrugged, laughter in his tone. “Anything you want, Alanna. I don’t need a sleepy, cranky woman on my hands tomorrow. So let’s get a good night’s sleep for both our sakes.”
* * *
Shadowy shapes fled down the corridors of her mind, and Alanna moaned. Eventually, the shadows took the shape of one man: Matt Breckenridge. She watched in silent horror as he began unlocking first one door and then another. Alanna put her hands to her mouth, biting back a cry. Each door he opened held something from her unhappy childhood. When the final door was pulled open, she felt herself transported magically back into the arms of her mother. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she heard her mother cooing softly to her, pressing her tightly against her body. The sudden screech of brakes, of tires biting into the pavement, roared through her consciousness. Alanna heard her father shout a warning, and then blackness swiftly grappled at her, tearing her away from her mother. Everything began to tremble and shake beneath her feet. A roar surrounded her, and it sounded like a freight train was passing through the tight confines of the small tent. As the roaring reached a peak, Alanna screamed, fingers pressed against her mouth.
Captive of Fate Page 6
