Four Winds (River of Time California, Book 2)

by Lisa T. Bergren

  He laughed, shaking his head in wonder as I looked up to him, trying to just keep my eyes on his, rather than that amazing expanse of skin. “What was that?” he asked.

  “That, my friend, was a dive. And where I come from, pretty much a perfect ten,” I said, continuing to tread water and looking up at him. “I think even the Chinese judge would have given me that.”

  He frowned in confusion, and I waved him off with a laugh. “Never mind. Just something from my time. It was good, no?”

  “Better than good,” he said, eyes alight. “It was glorious.”

  “Think you can top it?”

  “Of course,” he said jauntily. Then he leaped, turned a somersault in the air and split the water. But he’d almost overshot it. He bobbed to the surface and flipped his hair to the side. “What say you?”

  “An eight, tops,” I said with a laugh. “It was almost a back-slapper!”

  “When you got a ten?” he asked, catching on.

  “Well, of course,” I retorted. “You yourself said it was glorious.”

  He smiled and then looked beyond me. “Come with me,” he said, moving toward the cave that we could clearly see beneath the cliff now. Grinning, I followed. With the waves making the opening a mere six inches, I elected to dive deep again, and then popped up in the center, beside him.

  “Ohhh,” I gaped, staring in wonder and looking around. The light made the water the most transfixing blue, and the cave amplified every sound we made. “This would be a perfect cave to hide pirate treasure in!”

  “Indeed,” he said with a laugh. “Do you have any of that about?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Come,” he said again and moved toward a ledge. With some effort, he got out of the water. I could see that he’d cut his shin on the sharp rocks. “Careful,” he said, reaching down for my arm. “Let me help you.” Then he lifted me with a grunt and deposited me on the ledge beside him. He wrapped his arm around me, tugging me closer, and water from his nose dripped onto mine as we smiled at each other, enjoying our sudden proximity as well as the privacy. We leaned back against the slope of the cave, and I turned toward him, my hand shyly rubbing across his chest. He had a little dark hair, in the center, but the rest was smooth.

  He watched my hand, and his breathing grew shallower. His fingers moved to my wet hair, entwining a handful, and he urged my mouth close to his. “You are no sea sprite, Zara,” he growled. “You are a full-fledged siren. May I kiss you? Please tell me I can kiss you…”

  But then I was kissing him, crushing my lips against his. He pulled me closer, parting my lips, turning me so that he was now leaning over me. We kissed madly, all the days of pent-up desire exploding between us, over us, through us. My hands danced across his shoulders, his neck. His arms wound around me, pulling me closer, even as his lips covered my eyes, my nose, my temples, my chin, my neck…

  Abruptly, he pulled away and rose a bit. “Stop,” he panted, and pushed me gently back when I reached for him. “We have to stop.”

  I groaned in frustration. He was right, of course. I wanted him, I admitted to myself. I wanted all of him, just as he plainly wanted me. And well, that was pretty dangerous territory.

  We sat there, inches apart, panting, staring, silently acknowledging that we desired each other but chose not to follow through on that desire. And yet what rang through my head was, not yet. But soon.

  He lifted his hand, fingers spread wide, offering it to me. I set my palm against his, and then interlocked my fingers. He was still staring into my eyes. “I didn’t want to say this before you’d decided, about going…back, but I believe I must declare myself, Zara. To be certain that you know my intentions.”

  “All right,” I said slowly, half wanting to hear it, half fearful.

  He and I both swallowed hard, and continued to gaze at each other. I hated to even blink, feeling like it somehow robbed me of precious seconds.

  “I love you, Zara Ruiz,” he whispered, his intensity practically electrifying every hair on my body. “You make me a better man. I want you as my bride. I want all of you, forever. If you decide to stay, know that I will be on my knees, asking for the privilege of being your husband. I already have a ring.”

  I sucked in a breath, gave a half laugh. “A…a ring? Already?”

  He smiled, and a bead of water trickled down his forehead, along his nose, along the rounding line of his cheek, then onto his chest. He nodded.

  “Can I see it?”

  He grinned and shook his head. “Not until I am on a knee at your feet.”

  I grimaced, but I was inwardly glad. I wanted to see it, because I was curious. But it wouldn’t be right, not really, until that day. “So if I decide tomorrow—”

  “No,” he said, sobering and sitting up. He looked back to me, and I saw a measure of pain in his eyes. “I don’t believe you can say you’ve decided until you have the lamp in hand. You have to be free, completely free to choose—or at least leave it once more to God—before I will allow it.”

  I sat up too then. He lifted my hand to his face and kissed the palm, gently, sending fireworks down my arm, chest, waist.

  “But what if…” I began, wondering if I could really form the words, what they meant. “What if the lamp never is returned to us?”

  His dark, wet brows lowered. “I’m gambling it will, just as you did. It must be returned to us,” he said, as if the lamp contained some force that would magically guide it home. He leaned over and kissed my cheek again once more, slowly, softly. “Let us go. We must return to the men or they’ll fear we’ve drowned.” He jumped into the pool below.

  I stared at him—the sheer, gorgeous glory of him. His dark hair, slicked back from his face, allowed me to see every beautiful feature. “How long is a fortnight?” I whispered, the acoustics of the cave making it loud.

  “Fourteen days,” he said.

  I counted back. It’d been three since we left Monterey, four since the young gambler had made me his wager.

  I jumped in and moved to Javier. Silently, we each took a deep breath and I moved into his arms. Together, we sank below the surface, madly kissing, our lips parting, sealing together to keep the seawater out and the air in…as if we might seal ourselves together in this time, in this place, forever.

  CHAPTER 30

  JAVIER

  My lungs crying out for air, I took Zara’s hand, and together we surfaced just outside the cave. The gambler had ten days then—ten days to reach us. Could I survive even one more without this woman as my bride, let alone ten? It seemed like an eternity.

  I cursed myself for making the lamp a prerequisite to our matrimony, but I knew there was no choice in the matter. Either the gambler had to bring it to us, or I had to go after it, track it down. I wanted Zara, but I wanted all of her, and she would not be able to fully give herself to me until she’d faced the lamp, the choice, one final time. She had to decide, once and for all, that this time and place, a territory on the brink, was what she wanted—and that I was what she wanted—even if she had the option to return home. Or she had to leave it to God to choose for her.

  Secretly, I hoped she would decide without asking God to decide for her. I didn’t want to leave it to Him. He’d brought her here. He could clearly take her back.

  But no matter how it was decided, it wasn’t my choice. That was what I knew. Not being able to guide the outcome was the hardest thing I’d ever faced—other than leaving university to return home to the rancho—and yet I was bound and determined to use these days to let Zara know all that she’d be leaving behind. I didn’t want to ever think that if only I had done this or done that or said something that I felt like holding back—then she might have chosen differently.

  I didn’t think that was unfair of me. It was merely using every card in my hand to its utmost advantage.

  Ten days…

  I’d already instructed Patricio to let every captain he met know that I wanted the lamp back, and I was willing to p
ay three times its value in gold. Patricio seemed confident that such an offer was more than enough to force the ancient treasure to surface. “It will be known from Seattle to Santiago that you seek the odd little lamp, within a few weeks. Rest easy, man; we’ll get your girl’s lamp back for her.”

  Weeks, I thought forlornly, as my toes touched sand. What if it was really weeks…or months? I didn’t think I could bear to be alone with Zara any longer as it was. The passion we’d just experienced in the cave…well, clearly it was ready to break through any reserve we still held. It was very good that we’d be back at the villa in a few days, I thought, glancing her way as she stood and her shoulders emerged from the water. My men were hardly guardians of virtue. Even now they cast us smirking, knowing glances as they watched us from above.

  I lifted a hand and partly grinned, partly scowled at them. “Un poquito de privacidad para la dama cuando aparezca, por favor!” I yelled. A little privacy for the lady as she emerges, please.

  Reluctantly, they all did as I asked and turned. But once they had done so, she waded to me, brazenly pulled me close, and stood on her tiptoes, silently asking for a last kiss! Aghast, entranced, fearful, beguiled…I obliged her briefly, well aware of the men waiting above us all the while.

  “Thanks for the swim,” she whispered and then waded toward the beach. I finally did as I’d asked of my men and turned back to the sea, waiting for the chill of the water to cool the heat coursing through my veins. Saints, I prayed, pushing the curls away from my forehead, give me strength. Help me honor Zara in every way. Help me honor you.

  And then I waded to shore, hoping with every step that I could be the one man that Zara could not turn from. I smiled at her as she tossed me a grin over her shoulder and disappeared behind a boulder.

  Because, God help me, I couldn’t imagine never seeing that beautiful smile again.

  ZARA

  Sadly, there were no further make-out sessions to rival what we’d experienced in the water, and Javier seemed determined to make sure we always had a chaperone around, even if it were one of his caballeros. I was partly honored by such chivalry and partly an anxious mess. But the night before we reached the rancho, Javier shook me awake. We all had laid our bedrolls out around the campfire, as we had each night, and the embers were burning low. One man stayed up for two hours at a time, keeping watch, until he woke another. Apparently, it was Javier’s turn, because no one else was awake.

  He lifted a finger to his lips, urging me to stay quiet, and I slipped on my boots. When he helped me to my feet, I stretched, feeling every ache and pain of our days on the road, as well as every rock beneath my bedroll. Two of the men were snoring loudly, and I thought it said how tired I was that I could have slept through that. Two others were breathing steadily, low and deep. The last two tossed and turned. We waited until they settled before we tiptoed away from the campfire, my hand in his.

  I chastised myself for being ridiculous—yes, his hand felt so good, wrapped around mine, as if it were sending sparks up my arm, shoulder, neck, and back—but really, how was that possible? Get a grip, Zara, I told myself. But then I was thinking, No, absorb every second we have together!

  He led me up the hill. As soon as we were away from the fire, I knew what he wanted to show me. The entire sky was bright with stars—more than I’d ever seen in my life—and the higher we climbed, surmounting the hills, the more I could see the depths, the expanse.

  At the top, he turned me around, and I looked out across the calm sea and gasped. The stars appeared to dissolve into the sea, and the sea reflected the stars, making it all seem one. “I’ve never seen the ocean this calm,” he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind when I shivered.

  I sank back against his chest and stared, not even wanting to blink it was so beautiful. “Neither have I. Back home,” I said, “it’s hard to see the stars this way. There are so many people, so many lights, that it interferes.”

  He took that in but said nothing, even though I thought it would be a perfect opportunity for him to lobby for staying in 1840. But maybe he knew I’d do that myself. “A shooting star!” I cried, covering my mouth as together, we watched the meteor streak across the sky, leaving a trail of flame behind it. And then it was out, but another was shooting in the same direction, and another in the opposite, and another, until it seemed like a hundred were flying over our heads, bent on reaching some far-off realms. “It’s a meteor shower!” I said, squeezing his arm in glee. “A meteor shower!”

  “A what?” he asked, puzzled. But I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Meteors,” I said excitedly. “Bits that come off of comets, passing by in space, and when they hit the earth’s atmosphere, they light up like that as they disintegrate.”

  He was silent a moment. “And here I only thought they were an opportunity for us to make a wish.” He laughed under his breath. “Were you at university, then, when you came here? A scholar?”

  “No. I was in my last year of school. Thinking about college—university, as you call it—this fall.”

  He was silent again, taking that in. “So then…females attend university,” he muttered, sounding partially mystified.

  I laughed under my breath. “I think there are actually more women than men in university in my time.”

  Again he was silent. Then, “You enjoy learning?”

  “I do.” I turned in his arms. “It’s part of what I love about being here, Javier. It’s like watching history come alive.”

  He bent his head down so that our foreheads touched. “But it is one thing to learn like this, learn what life and a ranch and others around you have to teach you”—he sighed heavily—“and another to learn at university. Would you not miss that opportunity to attend and learn there?” He pulled back and traced the line of my hair around my face. “You have a fine mind, Zara.”

  “I do,” I said, pulling him closer. “I can admit that,” I said with a smile and squeeze. “But you left university yourself, right? To see to your family, your land. Sometimes life takes us on tracks we don’t expect. My abuela always said that the best people she knew were always open to learning, whether they found themselves in a restaurant kitchen or a university classroom.”

  “A wise woman, she was,” he said. “Did she attend university?”

  “No,” I said. “She left school when she was about twelve. But she was a hard worker and smart in many different ways. Wise, as you say. And she was always open to learning. She would sit down with a lawyer in our restaurant and talk about a case that was going on in our city, wanting to understand both sides. She would watch the construction workers who came to make repairs, and insist they let her swing a hammer or use a saw. She wanted to know what it felt like to do it herself. She read everything she could find, when she was not knitting or running the restaurant.”

  “You loved her very much,” he said.

  “I did. And she loved me. The day she died was terrible,” I said, resting my head against his chest. He reached up and stroked my back with one hand, my neck with his other. Listening, just listening. “But it was she who first asked me what I most wished for. And it was her death that made me think about our conversation, about what I most wanted in life. And it was being alone in our apartment after her funeral that sent me to the beach that night, when the fisherman pointed me to the tide pool…and I found the lamp among the starfish.”

  “Hmm,” he said. He lifted his chin, again staring at the sky and sea. “Starfish, you say?”

  “Yes. So many starfish! More than I’d ever seen in my life in one place. Orange and purple, mostly. And when a wave passed over, they shifted, and I spotted the lamp in the bottom.”

  “My mother’s bait for a bride,” he muttered.

  “Your mother’s invitation toward family, adventure, and love,” I said, after a moment. “That’s how I’ve decided to think about it.”

  He paused and seemed to be stuck on my mention of love. I hadn’t told him I loved h
im, when he told me. I was holding back on that for some reason.

  “Even if she didn’t think of it that way?” he finally said.

  “Your mother meant well, Javier. To find someone for you.”

  “And to have a reason to stay.”

  “Well yes, that too.”

  He took a deep, long breath and slowly let it out. “I suppose it is the way of peace, to think of it that way. Your wise abuela raised a wise young woman,” he said, pulling me tight against him.

  I smiled. But then I heard the scattering of rocks, just above Javier. He was on the move in seconds, pushing me behind him, turning to face whatever approached.

  The thing was rushing us.

  Javier drew his knife, and at the last second I cried out, recognizing the smell of wet dog and sage and wildness that could only be…“Centinela!”

  The wolf-dog raced past us, loping around in a broad circle, then grazed us again, clearly delighted to find us. “Centinela, Centinela,” I crooned, going to my knees and waiting for her to calm down enough to approach me. Slowly, warily, she did, until I was finally able to rub her neck, her back. She was too skittish for me to hold her face in mine, to try and see the stars reflect in her round eyes, but it was almost as if I could anyway.

  Javier laughed and shouted to the men down at the campfire, who had roused, hearing us cry out. “It’s all right! It’s only the wolf-dog!”

  Two men were already heading our way, and their heads lifted, as if relieved, their silhouette visible against the fire, which another had banked. It rose to life again, sending a shower of sparks skyward.

  “I think she was just waiting for us to get close to home,” Javier said. “I haven’t seen her since we found Mateo on the road, while we searched for you. I don’t know where she was while we were in Monterey.”

  “She was probably keeping watch from afar, or else she returned to the rancho to wait for us. I was worried about her,” I said, taking his hand again as we headed back toward camp. It felt like a relief, to know she was close by again.