The words stung, because they rang of a truth she couldn’t admit. “I’m doing this because I’m committed to saving all Mage children.”
“But saving Elemental children looks good, keeps the record clean.”
Her own temper rose. “You make them sound like a commodity, as if I’m using them.”
Kelly’s hands tightened on her backpack straps when she saw his raised eyebrow. “Dammit, Sam, I don’t need to prove anything.”
“Then back off and let us handle it. You have enough trouble on your hands. Stop trying to save the world and save yourself. Don’t be a martyr.”
She drew in a deep breath, counted and released it. “Are you done with the lecture? We’re wasting time.”
He didn’t speak again but set off on the pathway. After one mile, Sam stopped and crouched down. She squinted and saw a faint indentation in the mud.
“Path’s been used recently.” Sam stood and scrutinized her appearance.
“You need to blend. You look too American,” he muttered. He pointed at her bright blue shirt. “Got less obvious clothing in your pack?”
“All my clothing is Arcane sackcloth. What all martyr fashionistas are wearing,” she shot back.
Sam gave her a level look.
“All right. No. Nothing that can pass for local stuff.”
He scanned the area. “I’ll have to improvise. That path must lead to a house. There’ll be something there we can buy. And that hair has to go.”
Sam had tied a black bandanna with a skull and crossbones around his head. With his scuffed boots, cargo pants and shirt, he looked like a rugged college student backpacking across Honduras.
Not her. The designer jeans were torn at the knee, and the shirt was smudged with dirt, grime and sweat. She looked like a refugee from a war zone.
“Some covert operator I’d make.” Kelly sighed.
His expression softened. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t see smoke up ahead, so either the homeowners aren’t there or they don’t have enough food to bother with a cooking fire. I’ll do the talking.”
A pathway wound up the mountain, giving way to a cornfield where stalks grew waist-high. The rough-hewn mud-and-stick house sat beside the field. Tied between two palm trees was a faded blue-and-yellow hammock where a woman rocked a skinny toddler in her arms. Lines bracketed her weary mouth, but her eyes were kind, her expression curious.
Sam spoke rapid Spanish. Kelly hid her surprise. Even his accent was impeccable, as if he’d lived here many years.
The woman introduced herself as Rosa. She set down the sleeping toddler in the hammock and motioned for Kelly to follow her inside.
Small but clean, with a simple dirt floor, the house had two rooms, each with a separate entrance. Newspapers were stuffed into several cracks in the adobe. Inside the bedroom, Rosa poured a pitcher of water into a plastic basin and set it on a wood table. She removed a shirt from clothing that was neatly stacked on a blue barrel and handed it to Kelly while Sam hovered outside.
When Kelly expressed her thanks, the woman smiled sadly and left. Sam stepped into the room. As she washed her face, sighing with relief at the cool water, he hunted through his pack and produced a khaki bandanna. “Use this to cover your hair. If it doesn’t work, I’ll have to cut it.”
Regret etched his face as he lifted a strand of her long hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “It brands you, makes you stand out. So soft, smooth, crimson silk.”
She took the bandanna. “I’ll make it work.”
“You always do. You’re the queen of improvising.”
His intent scrutiny made her flush, the way he looked at her with admiration flaring into frank sexual awareness. Sam was a lethal warrior, leashed strength with a hard edge. The boy she’d adored had turned into a man.
The moment was too intense, too intimate. She remembered another time she’d improvised, when they’d been hot and eager for each other but lacked privacy. The skies had opened up and it poured, but Kelly had tugged him into the woods, sloshing through the wet grass until they reached the forest. Naked in the rain, they’d made love beneath the trees. It had been wild and exhilarating and primitive, his wet skin rubbing against hers, the passion flaring in his eyes as he took her...
Oh, boy. Judging from the heated look on his face, he remembered, as well. Keeping the sensual memories at bay, Kelly dangled the bandanna.
“No pink, not even a hint of mauve? You tough navy SEALs don’t carry a supply of fashionable bandannas? I can’t wear this. You never know when
Kelly redid her hair and tied on the bandanna. She examined the white T-shirt. Ragged and slightly small, but clean. She shrugged off her grimy blouse and folded it, placing it in her pack. Behind her Sam inhaled sharply.
“Lace. You still wear...lace.”
She glanced down at her pink silk bra with its scalloped edges of lace. She’d forgotten her famous weakness for pretty lingerie.
He had not.
Sam stepped forward, tracing the outline of the bra’s edges with a forefinger. “So delicate,” he murmured.
Heat suffused her body as if his touch were a firebrand. Kelly trembled, unable to break the contact, not certain if she wanted to stop him.
He raised his smoldering gaze and focused on her parted lips. This time she did not move away. Kelly moistened her mouth.
With a low sound, he bent his head and kissed her.
His mouth, so firm and yet soft and warm, commanded her with each lazy stroke of his tongue. The Mage knew how to kiss, knew how to take her arousal and hike it up several notches. He kissed her into a drugged oblivion, just like that first time, as if they had all the time in the world. Everything ceased to exist except this man and his mouth working magick on hers.
He tasted like coffee and the promise of sex. He kissed like a man who knew what he wanted and would not stop until he had it. The kiss of a man who intended to tip her back on the bed, spread her legs and love her until the soft rose of sunrise peeked through the windows.
Kelly made a humming noise of pleasure deep in her throat and slid her hands around the thick muscles of his neck. He muttered something against her mouth and pulled her tight.
She played with the fine strands of his hair, enjoying the silk slipping through her fingers...lost in the sensation of his mouth and his hands on her bottom, drawing her tight against his hips, his erection.
The silk beneath her fingers was much shorter now....
She drew up short and gasped into his mouth. Sam broke off the kiss abruptly. Green flared in his eyes, overriding the brown. Though he was equally affected, his pulse was steady and his breathing unlabored.
Male voices outside. Sam jerked away, alert and aware, his expression hardening. Stunned, she stepped back as he withdrew his gun. She’d known this man for years, had given him her body, had listened to all his hopes and dreams...
Watching him turn from a passionate lover into a dangerous warrior, Kelly realized she didn’t know him at all.
She shivered. The focused stranger before her, cupping a pistol in his hands with a warrior’s expert stance, was a man she’d never want to call an enemy.
“Stay back,” he whispered and crept to the doorway.
Kelly dressed in silence. With the back of one hand, Sam lifted the curtain fluttering in the breeze, his sharp gaze scanning outside. A shaft of sunlight glinted off the pistol’s muzzle. Craning her neck, she glimpsed a man outside wearing a stained white cowboy hat and carrying a shotgun.
Sweat streamed down her temples. If she was caught this time, it would be bad, making the beatings on
