Red Leopard (The Vistaria Affair Series) (24 page)

Nick left the bathroom before her, explaining that he wanted to start dinner. When she emerged later, wrapped in a big bath sheet, she found her backpack sitting on the end of the bed. Next to it lay a white glossy box.

She walked over to the bed and rummaged through her backpack, but couldn’t help glancing at the box curiously.

“I saw it in my dreams,” Nick said from behind her.

She whirled. He wore blue jeans and a black sweater. Unlike the business suits and shirts she had seen him until now, the sweater emphasized his shoulders. “What was in your dreams?”

“The garment in that box. I saw you wearing it in my dream and the next day—the very next day—I saw it in a store window. It would please me if you wore it.”

She opened the box and saw layers of powder blue chiffon, silk. “I thought you weren’t superstitious?”

“Ah, but I
am
a liar.” He turned and left the room as silently as he had arrived.

Calli dropped her towel and pulled the garment out of the box. It seemed to be a cross between a nightdress and evening gown. She couldn’t decide which. The chiffon lay over the top of the silk. Carefully, she worked her hips into the dress, for it fit tightly and the dress had neither zipper nor fasteners. It was cut on the cross, which gave her the room she needed to get it over her hips. The bias cut also meant it clung. Everywhere. The top was a little looser and when she slid the straps over her shoulders, the fabric between her breasts hung very low. It was low enough so that it revealed the swell of her breasts. The back of the dress resembled the black lace one she had worn, skimming down in a deep vee to finish just above her buttocks. The straps of the dress crossed her back and attached just above the end of the vee.

The hem of the dress brushed her toes, which Calli found remarkable, for any floor length gown she bought always had to have the hem dropped. Had he seen to that already? She picked up the hem and saw the faint signs of previous stitching.

Yes, someone had extended the hem.

She walked over to the mirror and discovered the silk was so fine and delicate that every rub and swish of the chiffon against it transferred to her skin. As she was naked beneath the dress, her nipples and
mons
were delicately brushed. The subtle touch was undeniably arousing.

She looked in the mirror. The dress outlined her hips, her abdomen and seemed to reveal more of her breasts than it covered. She felt more naked in the dress than she did wearing no clothes at all.

* * * * *

Calli made her way back to the dining room, figuring the kitchen had to be somewhere nearby.

As she had been dressing, evening had fallen and it was already quite dark outside the glass walls. The dining room was empty. The door on the other side of the room led to the kitchen, also empty. But good cooking smells came from the stove and a chopping board, a knife and vegetable scraps lay on the counter.

She went back through the dining area and down some steps, where she found Nick looking out through the glass towards the trees. Far to the left, she could see the luminous spray of the waterfall.

“Stop there,” he said, his voice low.

She stopped, realizing he had seen her reflection in the glass. “Why?” she asked.

“Straight ahead, next to the tree in front of me. See it?”

She tried to look through the glass. “No.”

“Next to your right hand, the light switch. Turn off the lights.”

She touched the switch and the lights all shut off. She blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness. It wasn’t that dark after all. The sky was inky blue, but not yet full dark, and the moon was still quite full even though it waned now.

She looked at the tree Nick had singled out.

“See the eyes?” he asked.

She looked again. Something moved a little. Eyes reflected the moonlight back at her. She caught her breath.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Jaguar,” Nick murmured. “I think she lives around here.”

“She’s beautiful.”

The cat, reassured by the absence of light, prowled out from under the tree into the full moonlight. Her black coat shone with indigo highlights that eerily reminded Calli of Nick’s eyes. The cat turned her head, sniffing, scouting her way ahead. She gave a low growl, almost a clearing of the throat. Even through the glass, Calli could hear the deep rumble.

Then, as if she had reached a decision, the jaguar leapt over the root by her feet and padded away towards the stream.

Nick turned to face Calli. His gaze slowly traveled up and down her body and he drew in a deep breath, let it out.

“It will do?” Calli asked. She nervously brushed at the chiffon.

“You have an aura, standing there in the moonlight. You are glowing.” He moved across the room to come up behind her where she stood on the edge of the carpet. “Did you plan this?” he whispered, his hands sliding around her waist.

“Plan what?”

“To stand before the glass so I could come up behind you. Do you know how I have replayed that moment at Ashcroft’s over and over in my mind? How I have wished it might have ended another way?”

His hands slid up the dress to cup her breasts and she drew in her breath sharply. “It was one hand,” she whispered.

“Ah, yes.” He slipped his hand beneath the silk and cupped her breast. She swallowed hard as low-key pleasure spurted through her and her tender clitoris awakened. In response, her shoulders straightened and she thrust the breast he held more firmly into his hand. The movement made her ass cheeks press back into him. His thumb rubbed the nipple. In the glass she saw his black shadow by her shoulder, the dark arm across her chest. He spread his other hand out across her abdomen, splayed flat, possessive.

“More.” Her voice came out weak.

“Mmm.” He kissed the nape of her neck, making her shiver. “Much more. But later. For now, I must eat real food.”

Her stomach grumbled a little and he laughed. “And so must you.”

* * * * *

They were eating—a spicy casserole with a salad and lots of crusty bread rolls and a pale pat of butter—when a quiet tap-tap-tap sounded.

Calli frowned, unsure what she’d heard but Nick lifted his head and cocked it, his whole body straightened in the chair, alert.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Shhh.”

The tap-tap-tap sounded again.

Nick stood and picked up the jacket slung over the back of the chair next to him, and put it on. “Stay there,” he instructed, as he might a child. He left the room, using the archway that lead directly to the front door—the one he had carried her through only a few hours earlier.

Her body tingled at the memory.

She continued to eat, her hunger still not fully satisfied. It felt like she had not eaten for a month. But she also listened, trying to hear what Nick did. As she scooped up another spoonful of the casserole, she heard what she assumed must be the front door open and close. Then nothing.

Several minutes later, the door opened and closed again and a few seconds after that, Nick returned. He lowered himself into the chair, and picked up his fork again. “I apologize for the interruption,” he said.

A small chill touched her spine. “What’s wrong? What has happened?” she asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You haven’t taken off your jacket.”

He paused, looking at her as though he weighed his answer, then continued to tear into a bun. “It is somewhat cool outside. I want to be warm again before I remove it.”

He had the same look as when she had seen him in the cell. The cool, assessing look that missed nothing and gave nothing away. His voice was the same rough burr she remembered from the first time they had met. The low, controlled voice of one used to command.

“Bullshit,” she said. “You’re not Nick. You’re...
el leopardo
. Whoever it is at the door has made you start thinking of Vistaria, your affairs.”

He put the bun down and slid his hand into his pocket. She had seen him make that habitual motion dozens of times and realized he was reaching for the St. Christopher medallion. It was an instinctive and secret reach for comfort, for reassurance.
El rojo leopardo
could not afford to reveal weakness or hesitancy, after all.

But he had placed the medallion around her neck. He had given it to reassure her.

Yes, Nick was thinking of his country now. The reach for the medal told her that.

Nick withdrew his hand. “You’re very perceptive.”

“Tell me.”

“I would not burden you with my petty concerns.”

“When they trouble you so much, they’re my concern too. “

He reached out and lay his hand over hers. It felt cool. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought that here we would be insulated from such things.”

“We are, mostly. I don’t pretend to know what your day-to-day life must be like, Nick, but I know it must be a good deal busier and carry far more interruptions than the six hours I’ve experienced so far.”

“That is true.”

“If this is a petty concern then share it with me and let me help it go away for a while.”

He shook his head. “I would not sully your thoughts with even a petty Vistarian concern. I would prefer you remain aloof from it all. Untouched.”

“That’s impossible, Nick. I got involved when some asshole decided to blow up a party full of young army officers.”

He smiled a little. “Is that your oblique way of reminding me what Vistaria owes you?”

“Hell, no. I just want to help.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “A local farmer came here a little while ago. He said there are signs of soldiers in the area. Footprints in muddy fields, flocks of birds disturbed. Small signs.”

“Isn’t the rebel camp somewhere around here?”

“No one really knows where it is. Besides, they keep on the move. The area where we think they are is many miles south of us. On the other side of Pascuallita.”

“So who are the soldiers?”

“It may not be soldiers. Or rebels. It could simply be someone wearing army-issue boots. There’s a healthy trade in used and surplus army equipment in Vistaria.”

“But someone is hanging around here, right?”

“The signs stopped appearing two days ago.”

“But you’re still worried.”

“The worry is passing,” he assured her.

“And you’re also a liar,” she said softly.

Chapter Twelve

They did not make love that night. The farmer’s visit had popped the bubble of isolation. Calli sensed the demands of Nick’s world reaching for him, calling for his attention. She did not intrude on his thoughts. She took care not to give any hint of her need for him, although she badly wanted him to take her in his arms. She needed him to assure her it would all go away, that he could be hers for just a little longer.

When the moon hung high and small, he picked up her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry, Calli. This is not what I intended.”

“It’s all right,” she assured him. “I’d be a stupid fool to think it could all stay away for as long as I wanted.”

“I shared that wish,” he said. “So, let’s see what we can do to preserve what we can, hmm? A night of sleep, that might be free of dreams now I have tasted the reality, could be enough to push the ghouls away. I will make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”

So they had gone to bed.

Nick held her beneath the green quilt and kissed her cheek, but she knew his mind was elsewhere. He was preoccupied.

Sometime later Callie woke to a soft growling by her head. She jerked fully awake, trying to orient herself. She lay on one side, her back up against Nick. He had his arm over her waist and his hand cupped her breast.

The low growl came again, very close. She stiffened.

“It’s all right,” Nick said by her ear. “She’s just nosing around outside. It’s a restless night for everyone.”

“You can’t sleep still?”

“I’ve slept, but sleeping seems such a waste of time while I have you in my arms. I feel I must make the most of the time I have.”

“You’ve been watching me?” She turned so that she could see his face.

“And thinking, yes.”

She turned all the way over to face him. The moonlight illuminated his face but his eyes hid in shadows.

“Black thoughts,” she whispered.

He was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” he said at last, his voice soft.

“Tell me,” she coaxed.

He sighed. “My deepest fear is that Vistaria will be lost. The balance here is so precarious and there are so many wrong turns that even one of us could make. That one wrong turn might be all that is needed to destroy the balance.”

“Is that why you worry so much?”

“It’s not worry that distracts me.” He touched her cheek. “If it was simply worry, then I would not have been such a poor host this evening.”

“What is it, then?”