“I believe so.” She moved a fraction of an inch closer. Did his presence affect her as she did to him? Surely not. Women didn’t throw themselves at him or even show interest in him that way. “Prepare yourself, for the journey ahead is more strenuous.”

  “Ah, and here I thought this was the worst of it.” Her apple blossom scent swirled around him and he leaned a tiny bit closer. The heat of her body seeped into his. Did he have enough nerve or courage to steal a kiss?

  “The jungle hides many secrets, some are wonderful while some are deadly.”

  Was she part of those secrets? “I don’t think the jungle likes me much,” he admitted with a rueful chuckle.

  “Then you are not giving it a fair shake. Just because you haven’t made peace with it yet isn’t any reason to think it is against you.” The throaty quality of her laughter sent need coursing into his length, and he shivered.

  “I shall try my best to get along with it.” If it would please her, he’d do about anything.

  “That’s as good as I can do with this wretched light.” Cora tousled the fingers of one hand through his hair then she stroked those digits along the side of his face. She grinned as she studied him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Much better. I can actually see the man the rest of London society sees… and he is a very striking individual.” As she moved away, she said, “Have a look for yourself.”

  Bentley lifted the mirror and peered into the slightly cloudy depths. Despite his circumstances, he grinned. “Gibbs couldn’t have done a better job.” At least he resembled a presentable peer again.

  “Excellent.” She exchanged her scissors for a straight-razor and a bar of fine-milled French soap. “Now, about that shave? Once we trim those whiskers, I have a feeling it will be me blushing instead of you. It would seem you’re quite the handsome fellow.”

  This innocent interlude would quickly escalate to something else if he wasn’t careful, and that couldn’t happen, for his inexperience would show and make him into a fool in front of this red-haired siren. Not to mention he was on a mission, not conducting an affair. “I shall take care of the shave myself.” Before she could say anything else, he bounded up from the cot. Hair clippings fell to the ground, unheeded.

  “All right.” Cora approached the cot and then handed the implements to him. “What do you write in the journal? I see you scribbling in it and I wonder.”

  “Uh, notes on my journey which will help me write up mission reports. Lord Archewyne is adamant those reports contain as many details as possible.”

  “Ooh, let me read.”

  “No!” When she reached for it, he lunged for the book, trying to juggle the razor, the mirror and the soap, and he forgot he needed to keep hold of the shawl. The lacy fabric fell to the ground, and she sucked in a breath as her gaze dropped to his rampant length. There was no hiding his regard any longer. “Well, damn.”

  “Indeed.” Cora’s eyes glittered in the low light and a knowing smile curved her lips as she slid her focus back to his face. A hint of a blush did stain her cheeks. “Impressive, my lord,” she whispered, and with a final peek at his manhood, she glided to the tent flap. “And slightly flattering, but I think I’ll leave you alone to wash and shave…. and take yourself in hand if need be before you join us for dinner. Do remember to clean up after yourself. Such things can be rather a messy business.”

  With that, she left and let the flap close after her.

  Why wasn’t there an earthquake handy to swallow one up when one needed it? Take myself in hand, indeed. As if I will do such a thing, especially knowing she’s on the other side of that damned flap, and further knowing she’s the reason for it. The heat of embarrassment raged through his cheeks, nape and chest as he stared at the flap where she’d vanished. Hell, at this moment he wouldn’t even mind being eaten by a giant anaconda, anything that would hide him.

  Pull yourself together, man. It’s a jungle, not a shadowy corner of a peer’s garden. And you are not a rogue.

  He let the shaving supplies fall to the ground as he willed his erection to deflate. Why was there no training for such an occurrence? How did Archewyne or Trewellain handle a situation fraught with sexual tension?

  Damn, I should have asked more questions. But he suspected he knew exactly what the two of them would have done.

  Why did I never chase women when I had the chance? Allowing his prick to swell at the first sight of a woman made him akin to a green schoolboy. And as gauche. With nothing for it, he retrieved the razor and soap. Best wash up until things settled down.

  And if that didn’t work, he’d write about the incident in his journal.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Cora sat on a packing crate, staring into the fire, her mind firmly upon the king’s agent traveling with her.

  Who knew the simple act of treating ant bites or cutting his hair would cause such a startling reaction from him? She smiled as she sipped her coffee, not seeing the flames but instead Bentley in all his manly glory. The length of him, so obviously aroused, had sent answering tremors of need through her core that she felt even now. What would such equipage feel like employed in lovemaking, stretching her, filling her? She caught her breath as a pulse rocked her. It was folly to desire him—any man—so quickly after she’d learned her husband had indeed perished.

  Wasn’t it?

  For that was exactly what it was—desire and unmitigated lust. She wasn’t ashamed to admit it; a woman’s body had the same needs that a man’s did, so why was it the height of scandal to voice those wants aloud? Males certainly did. Except Bentley. He was much too polite and focused on a case that was impossible to solve here in the jungle. She sighed and took another sip of coffee. Where other men would have used the situation last night to their advantage and embraced her, perhaps gone for a quick tumble, Bentley had kept his hands to himself and remained a gentleman despite the carnal tension fairly snapping between them.

  Funny how different men could be. In recent years, Michael hadn’t looked at her with desire or heat in his gaze. The only time that fervor appeared had been when she’d announced that her attempts at creating the toxin had been successful. They hadn’t even made love before he set off for England. With Bentley, every time she caught his gaze, that heat, that wondering roiled in his stormy gray depths. Was he even aware of it? Regardless, it made her feel alive and vital as a woman again.

  And it had been a long time since she’d felt wanted. Heady stuff, that.

  Yet, there wasn’t anything else between her and him, and there couldn’t ever be. He was a king’s agent, and she wanted no part of that organization. One betrayal had been enough. Not that she even knew the full scope of what Michael had done.

  Perhaps she never would.

  Besides, her purpose right now was seeking out those Death Orchids and destroying every one of them. A tangle in the sheets was welcome, of course, but it had to end at seeking physical release, for if she allowed anything else to complicate matters or confuse her brain, every person on the planet had the potential to be lost.

  A shiver skated down her spine, of anticipation of bed sport with Bentley or the more unsavory demise of civilizations she didn’t know.

  The arrival of the king’s agent at the fire roused her from her musings, and she quickly finished off her coffee.

  “Good morning.” When he merely grunted in return and wouldn’t meet her eyes, she bit her bottom lip to hide a smile. Was he embarrassed about what had occurred last night? He shouldn’t be, for he was quite impressive and his whole form pleasing to the eye, but perhaps he clung too much to the properness of London society. “How did you sleep?”

  Again, she was reward by a grunt as he set about pouring out his own cup of coffee. Dressed in his usual attire, he seemed even more tight-laced than usual, but she could no longer ignore the broad slope of his shoulders or how the ridged expanse of his torso had gleamed in the light of the oil lamp when she’d cut his hair. Cora blew out a breath and resisted the urge to fan her face with a free hand while his expression remained grouchy. Perhaps he simply didn’t enjoy mornings. Either way, their travels this day would go better if he loosened up.

  She moistened her lips and tried again. “I slept amazingly well, but then I’ve been along the river for three years. It’s become home.”

  Finally, he lifted his gaze to hers, but those gray depths were unfathomable. “Good to know.” Then he took refuge in his tin cup and sipped at his coffee.

  His surly demeanor amused her. Michael had often roused before the dawn, meeting each day with enthusiasm and verve. Bentley was delightfully different—in many ways. This man had merely rolled out of bed and acted put out that the day had even begun. Perhaps it was as good a time as any to break the news to him.

  “Today is the day we’ll abandon the canoes. We’ll go on foot from here, and since we were unable to secure an alpaca in the village, if you want a supply, you’ll have to carry it.” She stepped closer to the fire, poured herself a half-cup of coffee and then returned the pot to its resting place in the outside coals.

  He stared at her with wide eyes, his cup paused halfway to his mouth. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” Her lips twitched with the need to laugh. Since this man had crashed into her life, she’d wanted to give into mirth. How… refreshing. “I am very serious. The jungle is dense. Perhaps later, once I find my bearings, should we come upon a village, we can hire a donkey or an alpaca.”

  Bentley glowered, but his recently cut hair gleamed in the morning sunlight and his clean-shaven jaw practically begged for her touch. “That is not reassuring.”

  She sipped from her cup. “Are you physically incapable of the rigors required?” Obviously, that wasn’t true, not after she’d seen his naked torso and felt the muscles in his legs when she’d tended to his ant bites. Again, her attention turned to his form and she moved her gaze up and down his body.

  He snorted. “Oh, I’m more than capable, for anything this mission requires.” His eyes darkened as he looked at her. Was that his consent for a physical flirtation?

  Though she was intrigued, she tempered her reaction. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking along the same lines as she, and she certainly wouldn’t violate him sexually. Being in the jungle had addled her brain if she was so desperate for his touch. She’d been widowed less than a year, and it was only natural to wish to feel protected. For far too long she’d relied upon herself. Mayhap I’ve been a widow much longer. God knows Michael didn’t want me after our child died. There is no shame now in wishing for the attentions of a man. Aware that he watched her, Cora nodded. “I’ll bear that in mind, Bentley.” There was a certain satisfaction in saying his name.

  “Good.” He offered a small smile before he returned to drinking his coffee. “I wanted you to know that, in the event you think I’m not up to the challenge.”

  “Excellent.” How interesting. By sheer willpower she kept herself from looking him over again. She was not a schoolgirl infatuated with her first beau. “Are you hungry? There’s beans and rice, and perhaps some fruit.”

  He flicked his stormy gaze over her. Was it her imagination or did his interest linger at her bosom before he met her eyes? “I’m not hungry, at least not for that.”

  Surely he hadn’t meant what she thought he meant… did he? And if he did? Fierce heat burned in her cheeks. If he did, the day would pass slowly indeed.

  He drained the remainder of his cup and the strong cords of his neck worked with the swallow. “I wouldn’t say no to the fruit, for I cannot reconcile myself to the other.”

  “All right.” She couldn’t move, not while he regarded her with speculation. Did he desire her in the same way she did him, or did he wonder if she was a criminal?

  “When do we head out?” The tin cup in his hand seemed small. What would he look like when he unleashed his full power?

  A shiver twisted up her spine. I need to find something to occupy myself, else I’ll be little better than a whore. She frowned. Women in today’s world were only valued for the coin they brought to a marriage and the ability to bear children. And she couldn’t accomplish one of those absolutes. She snorted. Or the other, if she were honest. How well off had Michael left her? Was Bentley the sort of man who valued intelligence over a woman accomplished in society’s arts? Of which I am also terrible at. At the last second, she reminded herself he was a king’s agent and thereby couldn’t be trusted. Perhaps remaining celibate was the lesser of the two evils. “Once everyone has eaten. We need to cover as much ground as we can.”

  “Do you have any idea of what we’re looking for once engulfed in the jungle?”

  Cora shrugged. “Would you believe me if I said I’ll know it when I see it?”

  “No, but I understand.” Another faint smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Do you take your husband’s notes with us?”

  “I will, and I promise to look through them when we stop this evening.” Some of her desire faded. To him, she was a mission. Nothing more. That was for the best. Yet a twinge of disappointment circled through her insides. Was it so silly to hope that a man, somewhere, would want her for herself?

  He nodded. “I’ll look at them with you.” Then his expression hardened. “You said there were men after you, the men who’d taken you and Manuel captive.”

  “I swear to you they were.” She tightened her fingers on her tin cup, not liking this serious, forceful side of him.

  “Then where are they? We’ve traveled for three days and there’s no sign of a tail.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Now I’m wondering if you were captured at all.”

  “We were. They wanted the poison, as well as the orchid nectar, but I’d sewn the three vials I had into the lining of my pack.”

  His eyes widened in both shock and outrage. “Good God, woman! We’ve been traveling with the concoction that could kill us all nonchalantly tucked in your bag?”

  “They are perfectly safe.” I hope. Cold fear trickled down her spine. “I don’t know why those men haven’t made an appearance. Who can say why men bent on mercenary missions do what they do, but believe me when I say they wanted very much what those vials hold.” Her words tripped over themselves in her haste to explain. She offered him her free hand. “I still have the bruises and scratches from being bound. You may check if you’d like.”

  Bentley downed the remainder of his coffee and then tossed the cup to the ground. Then he took her wrist in his hand, tugged her closer and none too gently shoved up the sleeve’s cuff, examining the purple and green bruises on her skin.

  “Satisfied?” The word sailed out on annoyance, but he didn’t drop her hand, and the steady pressure of his fingers at her wrist both calmed and discomfited her. Coupled with the fresh, clean scents of eucalyptus and spearmint, she had trouble keeping her knees from wobbling.

  “Not even a little bit.” When he dropped her hand, he popped his hands onto his hips and gazed over the camp. “Manuel!” The unexpected yell broke the relative silence of the morning. “Come here, if you please.”

  “Right away, señor.” Soon, her assistant trotted over, a trace of hero worship in his chocolate-colored eyes. “You need me?”

  “Yes.” She bent to claim Bentley’s abandoned cup. “Do you swear to me that you and the lady were held by captors?”

  “Oh, yes.” His nod was vigorous. “Bad men came and took us. Kept us with them for weeks and weeks. When we escape, I was thankful.” Manuel cocked his head to one side. “Why the question?”

  “I’m not certain. However, I had expected a tangle by those men, and it has not come.” He narrowed his eyes on the man. “Why do you think that is?”

  The younger man shrugged. “They bide their time?” He threw an anxious glance to Cora then slanted it back to Bentley. “But they will come. They want the poison my lady has made.”

  “They said as much?” Bentley asked, very much in control.

  “Yes, yes.” Manuel nodded. Then he peered into the agent’s face. “You wish them to come?”

  “I would prefer it, if only to have a fight out of the way and not looming over our heads.”

  Manuel, dear Manuel, glanced above his own head with an expression of confusion. “They not come by sky, señor, but of water.”

  To Bentley’s credit, he snorted. “True.” He turned an amused gaze to her, and Cora released a shuddering sigh of relief. “Manuel,” he said as he looked at the young man once more. “Do you know how to fight?”

  “No. If I did, I would have protected my lady better.”

  “Do you wish to learn?” Bentley continued.

  Cora frowned. What did he hint at?

  “Yes, yes. You teach me?” Manuel’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

  “I will. Tonight. Mr. Gibbs and I will show you proper techniques.” He waved a hand. “We move out after breakfast.”

  “We are ready now, but we will wait.” With a jaunty grin, Manuel returned to the fire where the other two men joined him. No doubt he told them about the new plans, if his excited hand gestures were any indication.

  Cora gawked at Bentley. “What was that all about?” First, he all but accused her of lying, and now, he solicited her assistant into fighting lessons?

  “Nothing more than a precautionary measure.” He stepped forward and took possession of her hand once again. “I’m on edge and wondering when your pursuers will come.” Bentley edged his fingertips along the inside of her wrist, tracing the bruises with the lightest of touches that sent shivers down her spine. “I’m a king’s agent; I must prepare for every outcome.” Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand, cup and all, to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her wrist where her pulse fluttered. “Never let down your guard, Cora. If those men are truly after your toxin, they won’t stop. Perhaps they’ve merely taken another route to find you.”

 

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