Part 20 (1/2)

Before she could ask him what he meant he was gone, jogging down the road and disappearing around a bend.

She was too weary to be concerned. She just sat there, drinking water and eating the protein bar. She'd just finished both and was starting to feel marginally human again when she heard voices coming from the direction Cav had disappeared.

Moving as quickly as she could she scuttled back up the embankment and into the forest, then hunkered down and hid behind a tree surrounded by heavy foliage.

”Carrie, it's okay. Come on out.”

Wary, she popped her head up and spotted Cav and a Burmese boy who looked about twelve or thirteen, driving a two-wheel cart harnessed to a team of horned oxen.

”Your chariot, awaits, m'lady,” Cav said with a grin as he climbed up the embankment to help her back to the road and the grinning boy.

”Nanda.” She repeated the boy's name when he introduced himself and returned his handshake.

”English means river,” he announced proudly.

Carrie looked from the boy to Cav.

Cav gave her a wink. ”Come on. We're hitching a ride.”

He lifted her into the back of the cart filled with bolts of cotton fabric.

As he hitched himself up beside her, Cav explained, ”from what I've gathered, Nanda's father is a merchant in the village. Nanda is on his way home with a delivery.”

”He wasn't afraid of the gun?” she asked as the oxen started lumbering down the curving mountain road. Then she got it. ”Oh wait. We're We're the delivery? He was expecting us?” the delivery? He was expecting us?”

”Thanks to Wyatt. He's been putting things in play at his end,” he told her. ”Lie down and take advantage of the ride. We've got a ways to go.”

He didn't have to tell her twice. She laid back on the bolts of cotton that were hard yet so much softer and cleaner than the ground she'd tried to sleep on at the camp. Immediately, she was gone.

SHE'D CRASHED LIKE a shooting star, as he'd known she would. Cav watched as Carrie slept on a pallet of blankets in the corner of the small bedroom in the tiny house where Nanda lived with his mother, father, and three younger sisters. a shooting star, as he'd known she would. Cav watched as Carrie slept on a pallet of blankets in the corner of the small bedroom in the tiny house where Nanda lived with his mother, father, and three younger sisters.

She hadn't even awakened when Cav had picked her up and carried her into the cool interior of the house in a village whose name he still hadn't figured out how to p.r.o.nounce. Just like he still hadn't figured out how to deal with his feelings for this woman. Feelings that just kept getting stronger.

Nanda's mother had met them at the door. Thura was a lovely Burmese woman somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty-five. Three darling little dark-eyed girls peeked out at him from behind their mother's legs, and Cav had felt guilty for taking advantage of the family's willingness to help.

Their presence here was placing the family in danger. If it were up to him, they'd eat, rest for an hour, and be on their way. But it wasn't up to him. Time remained the enemy, but now it was too much time instead of too little. They had no choice but to hold out here until the extraction team could get into place at the prearranged time he and Wyatt had decided on forty-eight hours ago.

He'd worked this end of the equation too many times to worry that Wyatt wouldn't come through. And given that they had no options but to impose on Thura and her family, all he could do was wait it out.

Earlier, Thura's husband, Tun, had joined them, making certain they were settled. When Cav had expressed his grat.i.tude, the young father had shown Cav into the living area, then pointed to a framed photograph on the wall.

It was a picture of Aung San Suu Kyi, the democratically elected prime minister of Burma, who had never been allowed to govern. Instead, the n.o.bel Peace Prize recipient had been placed under house arrest by the Junta military regime. Twenty-five years later she was still a virtual prisoner.

”You fight Junta. You are friend,” Tun had stated solemnly.

And since the Junta military government ran the slave labor camps that worked the mines, it was apparent that Tun and Thura considered Cav and Carrie their friends. It was a measure of the oppression the people of Burma felt, ruled by a brutal military regime that had even taken away their country's name, renaming it Myanmar.

”We will help,” Tun had added with a respectful bow. ”I have car. When it is time, I drive you to meet your friends.”

That had been three hours ago. Carrie had been sleeping for five, as the ride on the oxcart had taken the better part of two hours. Since she needed to recover physically, and it was still too early on the timetable to move on, Cav let her sleep.

When a soft tap sounded on the door, he shot across the room and opened it up to Thura. She was carrying a tray loaded with a teapot, two cups, and a plate of cheese and fruit.

”She is well?” she asked with a concerned glance toward Carrie, who didn't stir even when Thura set the tray on a small table.

Like her son, Thura was delighted with the opportunity to practice her English.

”She'll be fine,” Cav a.s.sured her. ”Thank you again, Thura, for your help.”

After Thura left them, Cav watched the rise of Carrie's b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath her T-s.h.i.+rt, was captivated by the gentle curve of her hip, the sleek muscles of her thigh. Even found himself smiling at the utter serenity of her deep breaths, the thick lashes that were an intriguing mix of golden blond and honey.

He should take the opportunity for a quick combat nap himself before they set out again. He eased down onto the bed of blankets on the floor beside her, careful not to wake her. Dog tired, he closed his eyes. And after a few moments of just listening to her breathe he drifted into sleep.

AWARENESS CAME LIKE light, easy, unannounced. He was asleep, then he wasn't. light, easy, unannounced. He was asleep, then he wasn't.

Awareness. That the shadows had s.h.i.+fted, that the day had grown shorter. The room had warmed under the noon sun; a soft breeze drifted in through the open window.

Awareness. Of soft eyes open and watching him.

He slowly turned his head and encountered blue as perfect as a New England summer day.

”Hi,” he whispered.

She blinked once, slumberous and slow, as she rolled to her side facing him. ”Where are we?”

He checked his watch; barely half an hour had pa.s.sed since he'd lain down. He s.h.i.+fted to his side, facing her. ”We're someplace safe,” he a.s.sured her.

Her smile was soft, secure. ”I already had that figured out, or you wouldn't have been sleeping.”

He tried not to read too much into her trust in him. Tried not to feel protective and possessive and... Christ Christ. This was so insane.

He barely knew her. And yet... he knew knew her. Knew her strength and her heart and her remarkable, resilient spirit. her. Knew her strength and her heart and her remarkable, resilient spirit.

His heart rumbled hard in his chest when those blue eyes full of questions and longing searched his. When she reached out, touched his face with the very tips of her fingers, he knew he should pull away. Just like he knew he couldn't.

Didn't want to. Didn't intend to.

He covered her hand with his-sandpaper against silk-and brought it to his mouth.

”You've been through a lot,” he whispered a warning against her fingertips.

”Doesn't mean I don't know what I want.” Sky blue transitioned to smoky cobalt as she brushed an index finger along the seam of his lips. ”Doesn't mean I don't know what I need.”

He groaned and gave a Hail Mary thought to playing the saint, but he didn't have it in him.

”Sometimes,” she whispered, moving in until her face was just inches from his, ”it's just got to be about the moment.”