When she reached out her hand for the trowel, he noticed scrapes, as if she had fallen. His eyes traveled up her arm where four distinct fingerprint bruises glared from her pale skin. Her knees too were scraped up. He caught her elbow gently in his hand and she flinched. Rage coursed through him. “Who dared to touch you in this manner?”
She jerked her arm free, snatched the trowel, and glared at him. “That is none of your damn business.”
Enrique broke the stare off. “Please forgive my uncle, Dr. Kramer. He sucks with women.”
Arka opened his mouth to argue that when Gwen spontaneously erupted in laughter. “I highly doubt that, Enrique.” She rolled her eyes. With the first scoop of dirt she became completely engrossed in her work.
Dr. Hanson brought over sack meals for Enrique, Arka and Gwen long after nightfall. “She's driven,” he noted with an admiring shake of his head.
Arka notice the way the moonlight graced her with its glow, reflecting and caressing every strand of her hair. Her eyes turned a deep purple hue, stealing his breath whenever they met his. He joined her in the knee-deep hole. With Enrique sifting, they'd found several fragments of clay pottery and a small quartz crystal. With her legs bent to remain in the small excavation, she lay on her back, exhausted.
“Stick a fork in me … I am done.” Her eyes fluttered closed with a self-satisfied smile on her ruby lips.
Enrique glanced between them. He winked at Arka. “Then I will see you in the morning, Dr. Kramer.”
“Gwen,” she called out to his retreating form. Her eyes shifted to his. “Call me Gwen.”
Arka lay beside her with his head propped on his elbow. “Gwen?”
“Hmmm.”
“Would you like me to walk you to your … home?”
She sighed. “I think I'll just sleep here.” Her groggy voice betrayed how close she was to sleep.
Arka climbed up and scooped her into his arms. She squealed with fear and pushed hard against his chest. Terror infused her expression. “Gwen.” He soothed as she peppered his face with slaps. “Goddess, I am your guide and protector. I would never harm you,” he told her in his native tongue.
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God, Arka. I'm so sorry. I must have dozed.” Her fingers spread and he could see her peek through them. “Did I hurt you?”
“I didn't mean to scare you.” His long strides had them in front of her door. He released her to her feet, retaining his support with his hand at the small of her back, and opened the door to the dark interior.
“Thank you Arka. I ...” She climbed the metal step to the entry before she met his gaze. With her palm against one cheek, she placed a soft kiss to his other cheek. Arka knew he could die this night a happy man. She seemed as surprised by her action as he was. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Gwen.” She stepped back into the darkness and he shut the door. Reaching under the dwelling to where Enrique had hidden his bedroll, he spread it out on the ground in front of her door. The spot on his cheek held her warmth long after the night air chilled him.
Chapter Five
Gwen stood staring at the closed door while her eyes adjusted to the dark interior of her trailer. I touched him … kissed him … what is wrong with me? Two steps back and her knees felt the cushion of the built-in table that doubled as a second bed, perfect for midgets or little girls who insist on coming with their dad to play in the dirt. Her ass plopped down. Self-contained trailers and canvass tents had been the standard living arrangements on her father’s digs. Her hand fell unerringly to the brick-sized cardboard box of stick matches centered on the table next to an oil lantern. The sulfur flare as she struck the match dimmed to a soft flame and she lit the lantern wick.
The bed was piled high with her bags. The trailer held a tiny sink, a two-burner propane stove, a small fridge, and a door to a broom-closet-sized bathroom where you sat on the pot while holding a sprayer if you wanted a shower in two gallons of water or less. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. This was the life she loved.
When she’d boarded the plane, her heart clenched with fear every time a man entered the small cabin of the commuter flight. Her newest brush with John had set her confidence back. Once the plane took off, she’d been able to start erasing the encounter, putting the past behind with every mile. Landing in Belize, neither the hours in customs nor the jeep ride through the thick, heavy tropical forest had withered her spirits. Sitting in this trailer in a foreign country, Gwen felt like the carefree, happy person she used to be.
She dug through her carryon bag. The childhood journals she’d read on the flight explained her reaction to Arka. He reminded her of the imaginary boy in her dream sanctuary. Most nights she dreamed of visiting the ancient civilizations like those in her father’s stories. It didn’t matter where … Egypt, Australian Aboriginal, Maya … the boy was always waiting for her. When her father died, she said goodbye to her dream friend to spare him the burden of her grief.
Shortly thereafter she’d met John, tall with strawberry blonde hair and laughing blue eyes so different from the young man in her dreams. They dated for two years while she’d feverishly worked to get her degree early and he’d finished college. She’d fallen short of her degree but left school to marry him anyway.
Two years of dating … and he’d never once raised a hand to her. He put on such a “nice guy” act that most people thought Gwen was a liar. Hell, when it happened it was hard for Gwen to reconcile the nice guy she knew to the monster welding his fists on her. He’d never revealed his capacity for violence … until the last day of their honeymoon. A waiter had given her a compliment …
Gwen pulled her thoughts away from the dark memories. “It’s over, Gwendolyn May Kramer. Done.” Her whisper echoed back at her. She found her phone at the very bottom of the bag. The signal was surprisingly strong. She glanced at her watch with a shrug and dialed.
“You better have dug up a fully preserved Aztec god.” Maggie’s sleepy voice held humor. Her words brought Arka to Gwen’s mind.
Gwen moved her bags to the seats of the table. “Close.” She giggled, “He looks like a god.” She undid her braid, holding the phone with her shoulder.
“I thought for sure you were calling to regale me with old shit.” Maggie sucked in an audible breath. “This is about a guy? Talk to me, sista.”
The back of her head hit the pillow with a sigh, every detail of Arka fresh in her mind--his rippling, defined abs; the way the muscles of his back, chest, and thick biceps flexed under his deeply tanned skin when he moved; his long, straight, nearly black hair, tied back to emphasize his high cheekbones and squared, strong jaw line; his deep-burgundy colored, thick lips, and eyes the color of milk chocolate. The feel of him carrying her like she weighed nothing in his arms while his masculine scent made her swoon. The smoothness of his cheek when she’d kissed him.
“He’s gorgeous, Mags. One hundred percent Yucatan Indian. His name is Arka. He’s one of my assistants.” Gwen grinned like a schoolgirl.
The silence on the other end gave her more time to envision. The obvious bulge in his shorts roared to the forefront, sending a pool of moisture between her legs.
“If anyone deserves a fling, it’s you. Just be careful, okay. I love you, but you have the worst taste in men.” Maggie’s chuckle offset the harshness of her statement. That didn’t make it any less the truth. Gwen knew the statistics of battered women. The ones lucky enough to survive had a tendency to go from one abuser to the next.
“I will. Promise. Are you still coming in two weeks?” Gwen reined in her hormones.
“Hells yea! You don’t get to have all the fun. I plan on haunting you every break I get.” Maggie laughed. “Besides, if you don’t help me with my next test, I’ll fail it. I miss you already.”
“I miss you too. See you soon.” Hanging up the phone, Gwen powered it off to conserve the battery and dozed off instantly.
The pool rippled under her fingers, and she felt him behind
her. With a smile she turned, only it wasn’t the gangly young man she remembered, it was Arka. Primal, mature, he reached out his hand. She took it and rose to her feet, staring up into his face, trapped by the look of passion in his eyes.
“Arka,” Gwen sighed as she said his name in her mind. His eyes widened.
“How are you speaking to me?” His voice was deep and pure. She heard his voice, but his lips never moved.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Just … hold me.” It was her dream; she could do whatever she wanted. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her ear pressed to the sound of his heartbeat. The feel of his erection, thick and hard, pressed to her stomach sent butterflies through her.
His arm around her back and a hand buried in her hair, holding her head to his chest, he bowed his head and drew in a deep breath. “You smell of sweet night rain, Goddess.”
She lifted her face to his. His breath mingled with hers an instant before their lips met. Tenderly, gently he kissed her bottom and then her top lip with a groan. Her hand rose to his head. Lifting to her tiptoes, she crushed his lips to hers. He opened to her and her tongue slid into the warmth of his mouth while his explored hers. She moaned at the sensual eroticism of his kiss. Her nipples hardened and begged for his attention …
Light filtered in through the frosted-glass windows. A soft drizzle tinged against the metal overhead. The morning rain in the tropical forest filled the air with smells she hadn’t experienced in years. Excited, Gwen leapt from her bed and threw the door open. Jumping past the metal step, she lifted her chin to the rain and drew the smells deep into her lungs. It felt like a baptism to her soul.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blanketed lower half of a body protruding from next to a tire beneath her trailer. Empowered, hands on her hips, she kicked the bundle lightly. “Excuse me, but what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing when whoever it was tried to sit up, slammed his head with a grunt, and slithered out. Arka rubbed his forehead, looking at her through one eye, and Gwen let the laughter go. It rolled through her, liberating, tears streamed down her cheeks. Only the awed expression on Arka’s face calmed the laughing-fit.
He leaned his head back against the side of the trailer. “I didn’t hear you get up.”
She sat on the metal step next to him. The flap of a tent a few feet away opened and Enrique popped his head out with a smile and a wave. Gwen waved back.
“Why are you sleeping on the ground … in front of my trailer?”
One side of his lips—lips she still vividly remembered from her dream—lifted in a quirk. “I was protecting you.”
Protecting … me? Gwen glanced around at the encampment coming to life around her. The remoteness of dig sites had always made her feel safe. Especially since her mother never accompanied her and her father on them. Her father never drank when he worked at them either. She patted Arka on the shoulder. “That’s sweet but really not necessary. You want coffee?” Now that she was awake, the percolator on the stove was calling to her need for caffeine.
“What’s coffee?” Arka asked.
Maybe his English wasn’t so good after all. Gwen tried in Spanish, “café.” The confused look didn’t change. “Boxha, kaape.” She used one of the few terms she knew in Yucatan. He smiled and nodded. She climbed the step and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Come on in.”
She found what she needed in the third tiny cupboard, measured the coffee into the basket and fired up the burner with a match. Arka had to practically duck in half to get through the door, leaving it opened behind him. Gwen quickly moved her still unpacked bags over to the rumpled bed and he sat down. She took the seat across the table from him. The aroma of coffee filled the space. He reached over, lifted a lock of her unruly hair and rubbed it between his thumb and finger. A shiver raced down her spine.
“It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt,” he whispered.
She felt herself drown in the milk-chocolate pools of his eyes. The moment was broken when the coffee started to boil out of the spout. She jumped up, turned off the burner and searched for cups. “It’s a curly pain in the ass. I should have it cut off.” She pulled two cups down and grabbed a third for Enrique.
“You should wear your hair any way you like. It is beautiful. You are beautiful. Beauty such as yours comes from both the inside and outside.” Thank God the cups were plastic, because one dropped from her hand. Arka spoke as if he were stating a fact rather than giving the nicest compliment she’d ever received.
He scooped up the cup and handed it back to her. At a complete loss, Gwen saw Enrique emerge from his tent. “Enrique. Coffee’s ready,” she called to him. He smiled and headed over. Good thing. Gwen needed a buffer right about now.
By the end of the second week, the three of them developed a comfortable pattern. No matter what she said, Arka slept on the ground in front of her trailer. After coffee and a healthy breakfast, they dug late into the night, stopping only for bagged meals and trail snacks throughout the day.
Gwen was thrilled with the finds and impressed with the reverent way both Arka and Enrique handled the artifacts. Arka could explain every object, though he wasn’t always correct and some of the functions he gave things were impossible to confirm scientifically. Of course, they were impossible to disprove either. She could listen to him talk forever. Her attraction to Arka grew till she often found herself staring at him while he worked instead of working alongside him.
“Break,” she called out. Enrique and Arka lifted their heads to give her a confused look. They probably wondered how that word got into her vocabulary—the other archaeologist called her a slave driver. “My friend is coming in from the states today, and I need to get cleaned up. Rumor has it there are waterfalls a few miles from here. Are either of you up for a hike?”
Both men nodded and Gwen raced to her trailer to gather her bath items. She put on her bathing suit and tied a short sarong above her breasts. When she stepped out, Arka lifted the small bag from her shoulder to his with the quirked grin she found fascinating. His eyes tracked her body, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He gave a small shake of his head.
“Did you purposely dress to torture?” He joked.
His quick grasp of the English language amazed her. At first when she and Enrique would banter back and forth she could tell Arka didn’t understand much of what was going on. He even challenged his nephew because he thought Enrique had disrespected her. Now, he not only picked up on most of the jokes, he was starting to make a few. She even saw him flip the bird at Enrique with a laugh.
Gwen poked him in the chest with mock indignation. “A waterfall in the middle of the forest after a few weeks of grime and sweat? You should be grateful I’m not planning to jump in stark naked.” She expected him to chuckle; instead his nostrils flared and his eyes infused with the passion she usually saw from him in her nightly dreams.
“I got chow,” Enrique announced, ruining the moment. He carried a backpack.
With Enrique in the lead, Gwen in the middle, and Arka trailing behind her, she could feel his eyes on her. There was no doubt the attraction between them was mutual, yet Arka had never made a move. Behaved a gentleman, treated her with complete respect, and followed her directives to the letter. He seemed as driven to dig as she. Almost like he was seeking something specific.
Chapter Six
The deeper they dug, the more powerful the draw of the skull became and the more his feelings for Gwen grew. Her carefree laughter turned heads and brought smiles to everyone in the encampment. She was full of life, joy, and light that flowed into those lucky enough to dwell in her midst. There was no escape from the pressure in his loins. Even his dreams were filled with her. Since she never said a word about the dreams, he’d kept them to himself. Perhaps they were merely his and were no longer shared between them. Of course, if that were the case, why was he compelled to stop short of sinking his manhood deep
into her luscious body while in dreamscape?
Her night rain scent swirled around him with her arousal, the soft curves of her body undulating against his. Her soft moans of pleasure, the salty taste of her neck, and the sweet taste of her lips lingered with him long into the days. He loved the fierce passion of her sexual nature in his dreams. She would scratch and bite him, driving him wild. During his waking hours, her easy wit made the hard day’s work hours fly by.
It was the words she’d spoken into his mind last night that gave him pause in the light of the day. You’re too good to be true … but oh how I wish you were real. That was not a phrase he could have conjured up. How did he tell her that he was very real without scaring her? Her bruises and quick defensive reaction on the day she arrived led him to believe someone had tried to hurt her. The male in him wanted to demand she tell him who, so he could hunt down the man responsible and kill him slowly. Watching her blossom with happiness held his tongue. He didn’t want to see that blossom withered with a painful memory she seemed determined to put behind her.
With her hair restrained in her usual tight braid, the purple sarong left the gentle slope of her shoulders bared. Arka drank in the sight of her pale skin. His eyes dropped to the hint of her bottom flexing with her steps. Her legs stretched below the short, flowing material to her surefooted feet, which took two steps for each of his long strides.
He could hear the thunder of the waterfall they approached. Gwen raced past Enrique with bouncing steps, clapping her hands as the water-filled basin came into view. In a fluid series of motions, she kicked off her sandals and dropped the sarong to the ground, gifting him a momentary peek of her curvaceous bottom covered only by a pale-yellow triangle before she hit the water with a splash and dove under.
Arka reached the water line as her head popped to the surface. “This is better than sex.” She unbraided her hair and dove out of sight.
Mayan Lover Page 4
