Morgan's Rescue

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Thank you!” Pilar stroked the feather lovingly and watched as Culver crossed to a very old rubber tree that leaned over the pool. Stretching upward, he picked a string of pink-and-white orchids that hung from the trees like a small cluster of stars. The look he gave her as he settled the necklace of orchids around her throat made her feel faint with need.

  “These don’t begin to do you justice,” Culver murmured thickly as he began to slowly unbutton her blouse. He saw her lips part as his fingers lightly grazed her flesh. Pilar wore no bra under the faded white cotton, and her nipples began to harden beneath the fabric as he opened it. His voice grew hoarse with desire. “I wanted to bring you here, mi querida, to love you. I wanted to have you to myself for just a few hours, to make you mine again.”

  Heat swept through Pilar’s breasts as he slowly opened the blouse to reveal them. She swayed unsteadily. Gripping his arms, she whispered, “Yes…please, love me, Culver. I—I’ve waited so long…dreamed so long of this moment… .”

  His hands slid beneath the fabric, and she felt the calluses as his fingers cupped her straining breasts. His skin was toughened by long hours of work, powerful sunshine and unrelenting wind, while hers was soft, her flesh molding and fitting into his strong hands. Her fingertips dug into his upper arms, and her eyes closed as Culver moved his thumbs teasingly over her nipples. The sensation was electric. A gasp escaped her, and she felt his hands gently draw her forward until his mouth fitted hotly against hers, his tongue moving boldly into its depths. Breathless, Pilar raised her arms to his neck and sagged against his strong frame.

  His mouth drew fire from her. Before this, at night in their bed, he had kissed her gently. Tenderly. But now, as he eased the blouse from her shoulders and worked the clasp on her skirt free, he was neither gentle nor tender. No, this kiss was hot and seeking. Pilar felt her skirt pool around her feet. When his fingers molded against her flared hips and traveled down her body, she felt her lingerie join the skirt. Then she stood naked, fitted tightly against his clothed form feeling his masterful hardness pushing strongly against her belly to let her know just how much he wanted her.

  Without letting his lips leave her mouth, Culver picked her up and carried her to the mat, where he gently deposited her on her back. His mouth was rich, giving and taking. She felt the prickle of his recently shaved skin and dragged into her nostrils the scent of his body, slightly sweaty from the hard labor he’d performed in the fields earlier this morning. Her fingers frantically worked at the buttons of his shirt, and she ached to tear his clothes off so his naked body could mold and fuse with hers. Finally the shirt fell away, and with his help, his Levi’s soon joined it. In one hot, burning movement, he settled at her side, one arm beneath her neck, his other hand ranging up and down her naked body.

  The moment he pressed her fully to him and she felt his male hardness insistent against the apex of her thighs, Pilar moaned with pure pleasure. He tore his mouth from hers and lowered it to one hardened, uplifted nipple. Pilar tipped her head back, her throat exposed in exquisite surrender as he suckled her. Simultaneously, she felt his callused fingers moving downward, sliding between her thighs and easing her legs open just enough to give him entrance. Her body seemed suspended, waiting for his touch. As he slid down into that moist crevice, she shuddered, and an electrical sensation bolted up through her as he eased his fingers between the folds of her womanhood.

  Instinctively, she curved tightly against him, her breasts pressed to his chest wall, her arms rigid with tension around his neck as he stroked her with velvet intensity. Her thighs opened wider, of their own accord. The fragrance of the pink-and-white orchids surrounded her and mingled with his very male scent. He suckled her other nipple, and she felt herself spiraling out of control, heat gathering rapidly wherever he stroked her. The hot liquid of her body spilled across his searching fingers like nectar produced by the fragrant orchids that lay around her neck. As his mouth fitted commandingly across hers once more, Pilar cried out, and a white-hot bolt seemed to shoot to her very core. But her cry was absorbed into his mouth as his tongue plunged again and again into her.

  Culver smiled to himself as Pilar surrendered entirely to his ministrations. Her mouth was as wet and hot as the opening to her womanhood. He eased his fingers away from her, laid his hand on her small, curved thigh and opened her even more—to receive him. Laying her back on the mat, his mouth still clinging hotly to hers, he rose above her, covering her with his larger body and feeling her shift languidly beneath him in welcome. How long he’d waited for this moment! Culver had dreamed torridly of this coupling for eight endless years, and now, unbelievably, Pilar was here beneath him, her body writhing restlessly goading him to take her, to brand her as his.

  The ache in his loins was nearly unbearable as he grazed the slickness of her moist inner thighs. His lips pulled away from his clenched teeth. He didn’t want to hurt her, knowing she’d not lain with another man in eight years. She would be small and tight, just as she had been the first time he’d taken her virginity at the sunlit pool. Her mouth was pouty, soft and provocative against his. Did she realize that she was disintegrating his control with each movement of her hips? A hiss issued from between his teeth, and he froze above her, but she did not freeze in turn. With one twist of her hips, she slid upward, enfolding him, inviting him in.

  It was too much. Culver hadn’t expected her to be so bold, so assertive. Beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead as he tried to control himself. His rigidity made him tremble as she continued her gentle assault upon him, undulating her hips in an ancient rhythm that further crumbled his restraint. Heat was building inexorably within him, and he knew he would explode at any moment. Blindly, he plunged into her silken depths, the tightness overwhelming. His fingers curved and followed the shape of her head, and he felt her hands settle firmly upon his hips, pulling him closer, inviting him more deeply into her.

  Dizziness exploded within him and he became mindless. He became the male jaguar taming his female. The fragrance of the wild orchids mixed with the raw, primal odor of their bodies, all conspiring against him. Groaning, Culver took her deeply, hard—plunging into her again and again, a little farther with each thrust. Suddenly white-hot heat surged through him, exploding like the power of the sun itself. Gripping her fiercely to him, he froze deep within her, and in that moment, she moved her hips, sucking the blazing energy out of him and into herself. With each graceful, undulating movement, he felt the power bleeding out of him like the waterfall that thundered into the womb-shaped pool below.

  Within moments, he was spent, and Culver groaned and relaxed onto her smaller form. Kissing her soft, pouty lips, he drowned in the honey of life contained within her mouth. Moving his hips raggedly against her softer, more-provocative ones, he felt as if he were dying and going to a heaven he didn’t deserve. The richness and depth of their recaptured love had made this time even better than eight years ago. They had been forged by the fires of life, shaped by intense and powerful emotions, and their lovemaking had gained an exquisite facet that had been missing before. The moments, golden and molten, spun together like a beautiful spiderweb that had captured the dew of the night and was now being shot through with sunlight. A deep glowing heat throbbed within him as she milked the last of his power into the depths of her moist, receptive body.

  The love he felt for her in that moment was so rich, so intense, that Culver nearly drowned in the beauty as he moved off her and brought her alongside him, remaining deep within her, his hand flattened against the base of her spine to hold her hips captive. She held him in turn, a tender prisoner of love within her. Her hardened nipples grazed his chest wall, and he felt her ease away. Tunneling her fingers through his hair, she guided his head downward until once again his mouth fitted over one of those straining peaks, and he suckled her. A fine tremor moved through her as he held her in his arms in that moment, and he felt Pilar become boneless in his embrace, felt her release a sigh of utter womanly fulfillm
ent, at one with the man she loved.

  Culver could imagine nothing beyond this moment, and having this brave, warm and loving woman in his arms again at last. As they lay, locked together, he felt himself hardening again within her, filling her with his love. He felt the renewed honey of her liquid confines bathing him as his strength returned. Her belly was soft against him, and as he lay there, suckling her, holding her tightly, Culver wanted to give her another baby—a second child formed and fashioned out of this exquisite love that had never died.

  As her fingers ranged through his hair, sifting the dampened strands, he lifted his mouth from her hardened nipple and gazed deeply into her lustrous, half-opened eyes, burning jaguar gold with love for him. He had no words. His throat constricted with tears as he absorbed her gaze, her touch. He loved her fiercely, as a jaguar possessed his mate—ferocious and territorial. For he was certain now: she was his mate for life, and he’d gladly fight to his death to see that she was protected and cared for, and never became separated from him again.

  Pilar’s lips parted, slick and glistening from his kisses, the corners lifting tenderly. She raised her hands and settled her small, slender fingers on the sides of his face. The love shining in her eyes shook him to the depths of his soul, and for the first time, Culver realized just how much Pilar loved him—had always loved him. Her love was fierce, he discovered, and no less loyal than his for her. His smile was very male, very tender, as he leaned down and barely touched his mouth to hers.

  “I love you,” he whispered thickly against her lips. “Forever…”

  Epilogue

  Culver tried to contain his surprise when they arrived back at the village that evening. Major Mike Houston was standing near their hut deep in conversation with several of the village elders. Culver’s grip on Pilar’s shoulders tightened momentarily, and she gave him a worried look. No one had expected to see Houston again. Why was he here, in their village?

  Grimly, Culver quickened his pace. His hand dropped from Pilar’s shoulder and he captured her hand, squeezing it gently to convey his support.

  “There you are,” Houston said, looking up.

  Culver sized up the Special Forces officer, dressed in his fresh, tiger-striped utilities, a dark red beret on his head. Houston’s pistol was at his side, and his black jump boots gleamed with a high polish. “What’s going on?” Culver growled, halting and holding out his hand in greeting.

  Houston smiled a little, nodded deferentially to Pilar, then devoted his attention to Culver. “I’ve been waiting a couple of hours for you, Lachlan.” He gestured toward the clearing near the village where a U.S. Apache helicopter had landed, fully loaded with weapons. “I decided to drop in and let you know that the Peruvian government has taken out Ramirez.”

  Culver’s brows dipped. “Taken him out?”

  Houston’s face grew hard. “Remember the fortress where he kept Morgan?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s been leveled. The government decided to go after the son of a bitch—” He broke off abruptly, giving Pilar a distressed look. “Pardon me, ma’am, I didn’t mean to be so graphic… .”

  Pilar nodded. “I understand, Major.”

  Relieved, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile, he held Culver’s assessing gaze. “Ever since you two rescued Morgan, the Peruvian government has been working overtime to locate Ramirez. Our spies told us he’d returned from Bogota. We found out he was planning to completely destroy this village as an act of revenge.” With a shrug, he said, “When I found that out, I suggested to the general that we ought to do a little leveling of our own first. Of course, the Apaches were flown by Peruvian pilots. I just went along as an observer.” His smile broadened. “Too bad you weren’t there, Lachlan. You’d have been our cheering section. Those Apaches destroyed the army of choppers Ramirez used to ferry the cocaine in and out of the country. Not only that, but the chief was there and got caught in the cross fire.”

  Culver’s eyes narrowed. “Ramirez is dead? How can you be sure?” The drug lord had the nine lives of a cat. Over the years, Culver knew, the Peruvian government had tried many times to capture him.

  “I saw it with my own two eyes.” Houston settled his large-knuckled hands over his narrow hips. “After the Peruvian pilots leveled the fortress, we landed and went in with a company of land-based troops to finish the job. Whoever had survived was taken prisoner at that point. We found Ramirez’s body in some of the rubble near the hacienda. He was dead.”

  Culver saw the glitter in Houston’s eyes and understood the officer’s pleasure in finding the drug lord dead. He felt Pilar’s reaction and looked down at her. She’d gone pale. Automatically, Culver placed his arm around her small shoulders and drew her gently against him.

  Houston sobered. “One of the women from the village, who had watched the attack, came up to us. She asked for a pistol from one of the officers and he gave it to her. She and her daughter had been raped by Ramirez. She put the gun to the man’s head and pulled the trigger. So I know he’s dead.”

  “Justice,” Culver muttered, “finally.”

  Houston nodded gravely. “I was telling the elders of the village that they’re really safe now. And so are you. One of Ramirez’s men spilled the beans. During interrogation, he told us there was a mole in Hector Ruiz’s office—it was his secretarial assistant, Manuela. She’s in jail awaiting trial.”

  Pilar’s eyes widened enormously. “Manuela gave us away, then?”

  Culver nodded. “We were attacked by Ramirez’s men at Hotel of the Andes,” he explained to Mike. “And I thought Ruiz had sold us out. I was wrong.” He gave Pilar an apologetic look.

  Houston’s eyes narrowed speculatively on Culver. “I understand you’re going to stay down here and make your home in the village?”

  Culver nodded. “For now. We may decide to alternate years between the village and my family’s home in Colorado. We can have the best of both worlds for our daughter that way. My parents want to see Rane grow up, too.”

  With a shrug, Mike grinned a little and looked around. “Not a bad way to live, really. You’ve got the sun for light, clean water from the Andes and good volcanic soil to raise food.” He smiled down at Pilar. “And a good woman. Wish to hell I had one.”

  “Someday, if you get lucky like me, you might, Houston. Until then, you’ll be another lone wolf.”

  With a sigh, Houston took off his beret to wipe the sweat from his forehead, then settled it back on his head. “Yeah, I was afraid of that. One more bit of information and then I’ll leave you to your safe, idyllic life here, Lachlan. I called Perseus the other day to check on Morgan’s condition.”

  “How is he?” Culver asked. The man had never been far from his thoughts in the past two months.

  “The same, I’m afraid. He spent eight weeks recovering in the navy hospital at Bethesda. The doctors have written him off. Nothing they do seems to bring back his memory. He doesn’t know his name. He doesn’t remember Perseus. Worse—” Houston grimaced “—he doesn’t recognize his wife, Laura, or their two children. Helluva sad situation, isn’t it? It’s going to be a pleasure to make a call to Jake Randolph. He’s still running Perseus, and I can’t wait to let him know we’ve taken Ramirez permanently out of the picture.”

  “How sad,” Pilar whispered, tears in her voice, “for Morgan and his family. What will his wife do?”

  “I guess she’s planning on taking Morgan to a special place he loves—a cattle ranch in Arizona. Morgan made friends with the rancher’s son in Vietnam, and the family has offered them a cabin on their property that’s fairly isolated, so they can have time to get to know each other again. Jake said that Laura’s extended family will take care of their children while they take some time off together. I think Laura’s hoping that relaxing surroundings and getting him out of that hospital setting will help jog his memory. Quality time alone, you might say.”

  Pilar shook her head and pressed her hand to her lips. “Oh, I f
eel so badly for Laura. How awful to be with her husband, who once loved her and now sees her as a stranger. How hard it must be for her… .”

  Culver squeezed her gently. “We know from experience that love is never easy.”

  Pilar wiped the tears from her eyes as she absorbed Culver’s tender, loving look. “No, it’s not. But love, if it’s true, will never die.”

  Houston sighed. “At least there’s one happy ending in this ongoing mess. I’ve got to get back to Lima before they start wondering where the hell that Apache helicopter is.” He smiled a goodbye to Pilar, then held out his hand to Culver. “Stay well and happy, Lachlan. Since I’m permanently assigned to Lima as a military attaché, let me know if there’s anything you need, okay?”

  Culver gripped the officer’s lean, spare hand. “You bet I will. Thanks, Mike—for everything.” With Ramirez dead, Culver knew, people of the region could breathe a huge, collective sigh of relief.

  “I hear from Pilar’s grandparents that they’re hoping you’re going to be a papa—again—real soon,” Houston teased.

  Culver had the good grace to blush. He looked down to see Pilar blushing, too. Automatically, she placed her hand on her belly in response, and the elders surrounding them chuckled indulgently.

  With a hearty laugh, Houston clapped Culver on the shoulder and left, striding toward the waiting helicopter. Culver turned with Pilar to watch him walk away.

  “I cannot believe all this,” Pilar whispered as they saw Houston disappear inside the helicopter, the door shutting behind him. The blades began to turn slowly.

  “What? About Ramirez?” Culver asked, his gaze on the helicopter, but his heart centered on Pilar.

  “Yes. It’s like a prayer that’s been answered. He was such a monster, Culver.”