Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart Of The Warrior (14 page)

I
nca halted in her tracks and gulped. It was the third morning of the march into the swamp, and she had gone down a hill to wash herself before the day’s activities began. Only, Roan had beat her to the enchanting place. He stood out in the middle of a shallow pool that had been created by the seasonal winter rains. Though the pool was small now, it was just large enough for a person to be able to grasp the white sand surrounding it, and scrub his flesh clean before rinsing off in the knee-deep waters. Hiding behind a tree, her hand resting tentatively against the smooth, gray bark, Inca found herself unable to resist watching Roan’s magnificent nakedness as he bathed. Surprise and then pleasurable, molten heat flowed through her.

Inca was torn. She
should
leave. Oh, she knew what men looked like, but an unbidden curiosity and something else was tempting her to remain hidden and devour Roan
with her eyes. His clothes were hung on the limb of a nearby rubber tree. He was sluicing the clear, cooling water across his thick, broad shoulders and well-sprung chest, which was covered with a dark carpet of black hair. Gulping unsteadily, she dropped her gaze lower…and lower…then just as quickly, Inca looked away. Disgusted with herself, she spun around and placed her back against the tree, her arms wrapped tightly across against her chest. Nostrils flaring, she told herself she shouldn’t be doing this.

Heart pounding, Inca felt that warm, uncoiling sensation deep in her body. It was a wonderful, new feeling that seemed to blossom within her when she was around Roan. She had not been able to bully or scare him off. He’d stayed at her side like a faithful dog would its master, and Inca had grudgingly given up on trying to get him to go back to the company of men. The last two days had cemented their relationship to the point where Inca felt the last of her defenses toward him dissolving. Oh, it was nothing he did directly, just those smoldering looks he gave her from time to time, that crooked smile that heated her spirit and made it fly, his sense of humor and ability to laugh.

She heard him singing, his voice an engaging baritone. The forest around the pool area absorbed most of the sound as he chanted in a language that was foreign to her. Understanding it was a ceremonial song of his people, to greet the rising sun, she slowly turned around and peeked from behind the tree. Both hands on the trunk to steady herself, Inca watched as he leaned down, grabbed some sand from the bottom of the pool and briskly began to scrub his chest. There was something vulnerable and boy
ish about Roan in that molten moment. Gulping hard, Inca found herself wondering what it would be like to slide her fingers through that dark hair splayed out across his broad, well-developed chest. Or to allow her hands to range downward in exploration….

Making a strangled sound, Inca jerked away and dug the toe of her boot into the soft, muddy earth. She had to get out of here! Hurrying silently up the hill in a line that would hide her from his view, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Her whole world was crumbling because of Roan. She could not keep him at bay. She melted a little more each time he shared an intimate glance with her, or smiled at her…. So many little things were unraveling her mighty defenses!

Panicked by all that she was feeling, because she’d never felt it before, Inca had no one to turn to to ask what was going on inside her. She wished one of the Jaguar Clan mothers who had raised her were still alive. They’d been old women when they nursed her from babyhood to girlhood. They were all gone now, having long ago walked across the Threshold to the other worlds. Again the biting reminder that she was alone, abandoned by everyone, sank into her.

Back in their makeshift camp, Inca hurriedly removed her dark green nylon hammock from between two trees and stuffed it in the bag she would carry across her shoulders. If only she hadn’t been banished from the Jaguar Clan village. Inca yearned to talk to Grandmother Alaria. Yes, Grandmother Alaria would understand what was going on inside her. Grandfather Adaire, however, would block her entrance to the village and tell her to leave—or else deliver the worst punishment of all: ban her forever
not just from the village but from the Jaguar Clan. Inca couldn’t tolerate the thought of being forced to give up the one thing that she’d been raised to do all her life—work as a healer for her people.

“Your turn.”

Inca gasped. She dropped the hammock and spun around, caught off guard. Roan stood behind her, dressed in his fatigues, his upper chest naked, the towel draped over his head as he casually dried his dark hair. She saw the sparkle in his blue eyes. Gulping, she realized he knew she’d seen him bathing. Heat rolled up her neck and into her face. She avoided his tender look. There was no laughter, no censure in his eyes. Indeed, he seemed to understand what she’d done and why. Inca wished she did.

“I—it was an accident,” she stammered, nervously picking up her hammock and rapidly jamming it into her small canvas pack.

“Of course,” Roan murmured. The rosy flush in her cheeks made Inca unbearably beautiful to him. He saw the surprise, the shame and humiliation in her darkening eyes. “Accidents happen. I wasn’t upset.”

Lifting her head, she twisted to look in his direction. “You weren’t?” She would be.

Wiping his brow dry, Roan hung the small, dark green towel on a branch to dry. Not that it would dry much in this humidity. Shrugging on his fatigue blouse, he rolled up the arms on each sleeve to his elbow. “No.”

“I would not like someone coming upon me as I washed.”

“That’s different.” He smiled as she straightened. Inca was not the confident warrior now. Instead she was a young woman, unsure of herself, of her relationship to
him, and possibly, Roan ruminated, of what she was feeling toward him. He knew, without question, that Inca was drawn to him like a bee to sweet honey. And he was no less smitten with her even though he was trying desperately to ignore his feelings toward her. Constantly, Roan had to harshly remind himself that they had a mission to complete. He refused to fall in love with another woman. He would not indulge in his growing, powerful feelings for her. Having to cap them, sit on them and ignore them was becoming a daily hell for him. It was a sweet hell, however. Inca was precious to him in all ways—from the smallest gesture to her great unselfishness toward others who were less fortunate than her.

“Humph,” Inca said as she grabbed her towel and moved quickly toward the pool. “I will return.”

Buttoning his shirt, Roan grinned to himself. When he heard the snap and crackle of boots crushing small sticks that had fallen from the canopy above, he knew someone was coming. Moving out from behind a tree, he saw it was Julian. The young officer’s face was flushed and he had a worried look.

“Good morning,” Roan greeted him, placing the towel on top of his pack.

“
Bom dia,
good morning,” Julian said, breathing hard. “I just wanted to tell Inca that she was right. Coming into this swamp is creating a disaster of unexpected proportions.” He stopped, removed his cap and wiped his brow with his arm. Looking back toward where the company was preparing to march, he continued. “I tried to talk to my father this morning. We have ten men down with malaria symptoms. We have another five with dysentery. And six from yesterday that have assorted sprained ankles
or knees from falling and slipping.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do….”

Roan patted the shorter man on the shoulder. “There isn’t much you can do, Julian. We’re halfway through the swamp.” Looking up, he saw a patch of bright blue sky. It looked as if the weather was going to be sunny. That meant it would be very hot today, and with the humidity around ninety-five percent at all times, the stress on the men would be great. “How about heat exhaustion? How many cases?”

“My
médico,
Sargento Salvador, says we have fifteen men who are down. We need to get a helicopter in here, but we are too far into the jungle for them to land. One of the other officers is taking all the injured and sick back to the edge of the swamp. From there, they will march to the river, where the helicopters will fly in and take them to the nearest hospital, which is located in Manaus.”

“A lot of technical problems,” Roan agreed somberly. He reached down and removed his tin cup, which had coffee in it that had been warming over the last of the coals of their morning campfire. He offered some to Julian, who shook his head.

“Does Inca know any
quick
way out of this swamp? Is there any way we can get out of it now?”

Roan shrugged and sipped his coffee. “She said there is none. That was the problem. Once you committed to this route, there was no way out except back or straight ahead.”

“Damn,” Julian rasped. “Very well. I am lead point with my squad today. We will be working with you and Inca.” He smiled a little, his eyes dark with worry. “I’m
afraid we’ll lose many more men today to this heat. There’s no cloud cover….”

“Just keep them drinking a lot of water, with frequent rests,” Roan advised solemnly.

“My father wants out of the swamp. He’s pushing the men beyond their physical limits. I can try, but he’s in command….”

Roan nodded grimly. “Then we will just have to do the best we can to get through this.”

Inca moved silently. It was dusk and she was watching the weary soldiers of the company erect their tents and reluctantly dig in for the coming night. Perspiration covered her. It had been a hot, humid, brutal day. She saw Colonel Marcellino in the distance. He was shouting at Julian, who stood stiffly at attention. Her heart broke for the young officer. She liked Julian. Why did his father have to treat him so cruelly? Did he not realize how fragile life was? They could all die in a minute in this deadly swamp.

She felt Roan coming, and leaned against a tree trunk and waited for him. The day had been hard on everyone. Even he, with his athleticism and strength, looked fatigued tonight. She nodded to him as he saw her. When he gave her a tired smile in return, her heart opened. Crossing her arms, she leaned languidly against the tree. Roan halted about a foot away from her, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

“They look pretty exhausted,” he muttered.

“They are. How many men went down today?”

“Twenty more to various things—malaria, dysentery and heat exhaustion.”

“Humph.” Brows knitting, Inca watched as Julian was dismissed. He disappeared quickly between the tents that were being raised. “The colonel is an old man and a fool. He will lose as many tomorrow, before we get out of this place.”

Scratching his head, Roan studied her in the soft dusk light. She had discarded her bandoliers and her rifle back at their recently made camp. Tendrils of hair stuck to her temples, and her long, thick braid was badly frayed by the high humidity. The soft pout of her lips, her half-closed eyes, made Roan want her as he’d never wanted another woman. He hoped she wasn’t reading his mind. Inca had told him she rarely read other people’s thoughts because it took much energy and focus. Most people’s thoughts were garbage anyway, she told him wryly. Roan sighed. Well, Inca was tired, there was no doubt. There were faint shadows beneath her large eyes. The heat had been brutal even on her, and she lived here year-round.

There was a sudden scream, and then a hail of gunfire within the camp. A number of men were running around, screaming, yelling and brandishing their weapons. More shots were fired.

Inca stood up, suddenly on guard. “What…?”

Roan moved protectively close, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes narrowed. The company of men looked like a disturbed beehive. There were more screams. More shouts. More gunfire. “I don’t know….”

Keying her hearing, Inca heard someone shout,
“Médico! Médico!”

“Someone is hurt,” Inca said, her voice rising with concern. “Who, I do not know. There are no drug runners around, so what is going on?”

Before Roan could speak, he saw one of the point soldiers they’d worked with today, Ramone, come racing toward them. The point patrol always knew where they had their camp for the night. The look of terror etched on his young face made Roan grip Inca a little more securely. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

Inca agreed. She liked the touch of his hand on her shoulder. He stood like a protective guard, his body close and warm, and she hungrily absorbed his nearness.

Both of them stepped out into the path of the running, panting soldier. He cried out their names.

“Inca! We need you! Tenente Marcellino! A bushmaster snake bit him! Hurry! He will die!”

Stunned, Inca tore from beneath Roan’s hand. She knew she wasn’t supposed to enter the colonel’s camp. She was unarmed, and risking her own life because the colonel was capable of killing her.

“Inca!” Too late. Roan cursed. He saw her sprint down the trail, heading directly for where the men were running around and shouting.
Damn.
Roan gripped the soldier by the arm. “Let’s go. Show me where he’s lying.” Roan was a paramedic, but he didn’t have antivenin in his medical pack. He wasn’t even sure there was antivenin for the poison of a bushmaster. As he ran with Ramone, who was stumbling badly, he mentally went over the procedure for snakebite. This particular snake was deadly, he knew. No one survived a bite. No one. He saw Inca disappear between two tents. Digging in his toes, Roan plunged past the faltering and gasping soldier.

Julian Marcellino was lying on the ground near his tent, next to the brackish water of the swamp, and gripping his thigh. Blood oozed from between his white fingers. No
more than three feet away lay a dead bushmaster snake that he’d killed with his pistol. Julian’s eyes were glazing over as Inca leaned over him. The
médico,
Sargento Salvador, had tears in his eyes as he knelt on the other side of the semiconscious officer.

“I can’t save him!” Salvador cried as Inca dropped to her knees opposite him.

“Be quiet!” Inca snarled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roan running up to her at the same time Jaime Marcellino did. “Move away!” she shouted. “Give me room. Be quiet! All of you!”