Twice A Hero Part 6

Was this act a way of protecting herself, avoiding his questions because she'd revealed too much? Liam couldn't forget the shock he'd felt when he'd seen her with the photograph. Until that moment she'd been only an unforeseen burden to dispose of in the nearest safe place, some eccentric suffragist amateur explorer who'd been lost or deliberately abandoned, left for him to save.

After what had happened yesterday, he'd never considered doing otherwise.

The sharp sting of recent memory made the bitterness rise in his throat: Perry's revelation, the knowledge that Liam's trust in his partner had been entirely misplaced; the fight, drinking to drown the rage and loss, waking up this morning to find the bearers, mules, and nearly all the supplies gone. With Perry.

Abandoned. Betrayed by the one man he'd thought he could trust. The man who stood beside him in that d.a.m.ned photograph.

He'd thought the girl in far more desperate straits than himself. She was of the weaker s.e.x, in spite of her ridiculous beliefs to the contrary. But nowa"now he felt a grinding suspicion in his gut, wild thoughts fully as mad as the woman's incoherent ramblings and disjointed explanations.

Liam scowled at Miss MacKenzie's inward stare. She wasn't the only one with wits gone begging. A woman?

Even Perry wouldn't sink so low. And there hadn't been time. But since yesterday nothing seemed beyond possibility.

And their meeting had seemed more than merely coincidence.

He studied her, chin on fist, allowing himself full rein to his imagination. Perry would never a.s.sume that his erstwhile partner would be distracted by a woman like this. She was hardly beautiful. Her hair was short, her jaw too stubborn, her figure too slender. Though she'd proven she was, in fact, female enough when the rain had soaked through her s.h.i.+rt.

He found himself gazing at her chest. More there than he'd first noticed; come to think of it, she couldn't pa.s.s for a boy, not unless that loose s.h.i.+rt were completely drya You've been without a woman too long, O'Shea. He snorted. No. At best Perry would expect him to be delayed further, getting the girl back to civilization. That would neatly fit in with his intentions.

Liam's hand slammed into the wet stone of the temple. Perry knew too d.a.m.ned much about him. He knew Liam wouldn't leave any woman alone in the jungle, no matter what his circ.u.mstancesa"without supplies or bearers or even a single scrawny mulea Because you trusted him. The rage bubbled up again, and with very little effort he could imagine his fist connecting with Perry's superior, aristocratic face.

By the saints, it wasn't over yet. When Liam got back' to San Franciscoa"

"That's it."

He snapped out of his grim reverie. Miss MacKenziea""Mac," the name she had called herself and which suited her so wella"had apparently recovered her senses. Or ended her game. She was on her feet, looking out over the jungle.

"I'm going back," she announced.

Liam rose casually. The top of her cropped head came almost to his chin; tall for a woman. He hadn't realized that before.

"Back wherea"Mac?" he drawled.

Her stare was no longer unfocused. She looked at him as if she'd like to pitch him over the side of the pyramid. "Only my friends call me Mac," she said, "and you're not my friend. You're a figment of my overheated imagination."

He gave a startled bark of laughter. Whoever and whatever she was, she had the ability to make him hover between laughter and outrage. She was too d.a.m.ned good at keeping him off balance. Was that her purposea"and Perry's?

To h.e.l.l with that. If there was anything to his suspicions, he'd learn soon enough.

"So," he said, "you don't think I'm real?" He took one long step, closing the gap between them, and felt her shudder as his chest brushed hers. He could feel the little tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, hardening through the s.h.i.+rt. He felt an unexpected hardening in his own body. "What proof do you need, eh?"

She tried to step back, but the temple wall was behind her. "Youa uha" She thrust out her jaw and glared. "Let me by. I'm going back to the ruins."

"If I'm not real, Mac, you should have no difficulty walking through me."

Suddenly she chuckled. "Great idea," she said. With the full force of her slender weight she pushed against him. The a.s.sault drove him back a pace. She stepped to the side, strode to the rim of the temple platform, and slid her foot over the edge.

He caught her arm just as an ancient stone step gave way under her foot. "Are you so eager to break your neck?" he snapped. "Or are you more afraid of something else?"

Her eyes were wide and dark and surprisingly large, rimmed with thick lashes he hadn't noticed before. There was a slight trembling to the lids and at the corners of her lips, as if she'd realized how easy it would have been to tumble down that steep incline in her reckless attempt to escape.

Escape him. Was that what she was trying to do? Did she have good reason?

He let her go. She shook her arm to work out the numbness. "Can I break my neck if I'm already dead? Maybe it wouldn't hurt."

If this was a game, he couldn't see the point in it. "Dying hurts," he said roughly.

The color drained from her skin. She seemed about ready to say something, and then thought better of it.

"No," she said, as if to herself alone. "If I go back, I'll understand. The answer is there, in the tunnel."

The answer? He'd like more than a few answers himself.

He scrutinized the jungle below them. The rain had stopped, but in a little over two hours it would be dark. He was hungry and wanted coffee, but there was no chance of that. Coffee was not one of the few necessities Perry had seen fit to leave him. At least there was shelter in camp. Best to take the girl with him, and then decidea Mac had already made her decision. She had turned around and was climbing backward down the cleared path along the crumbling temple stairway, clutching vines and bushes for handholds, her tongue caught between her teeth. Her feet slipped, and she steadied herself and kept going, never once glancing back up at him.

d.a.m.ned crazy troublemaking female. Suffragist or not, suspect or not, she needed a keepera"a job no sane man would want. He'd never let Caroline get into a position even remotely like this one. Scrambling down the side of a pyramid, no skirts or corsets or furbelows, drenched with sweat, hair bedraggled. Not a hair on Caroline's golden head would ever be disarranged by any hards.h.i.+p as long as he was alive.

Caroline. He had to get back to San Francisco. Her aunt Amelia was no match for Perry's smooth tongue; he'd be spending every available hour at the Gresham house, using his jaded charm on Caroline, trying to make her believe he loved her. And in less than six weeks she'd be eighteen, in full control of her considerable fortunea With a pungent oath Liam retrieved his machete, slung his bag over his shoulder, and followed Mac down.

She reached the base of the pyramid unscathed and was already striding back the way they'd come by the time he caught up with her. Her sense of direction was surprisingly good for a woman. She found the path he'd cut with no help from him, and marched through the muck and clouds of mosquitoes without moderating her furious pace.

"Don't feel obligated to come with me," she puffed. "I can find my way just fine now, thank you."

The path wasn't wide enough for two. Liam dogged her heels, restraining an impulse to grab her. "I have no intention of leaving you," he said acidly. "There's still the small matter of Perry's photographa""

"Yeah. I'll say."

Impossible female. Let her exhaust herself, and then she'd be more tractable. He dodged a palm frond that slapped back into his chest and settled into an easy, ground-eating stride far more efficient than her break-neck rush. Soon enough her breath became ragged, but some stubborn spirit kept her moving.

He could almost admire that. Almost.

They reached the original ruins in just under an hour. Maca"the name was too apt to discarda"had half hidden herself behind a cl.u.s.ter of palms. He could see her doubled over, hands on knees, face flushed and hair sodden. That she'd gone on so long was amazing. Liam tipped up his hat and dragged his damp sleeve across his forehead, watching her fumble for her canteen.

She was tired, hot, and thirsty. Good. It would be easier to make her drop her guard.

"What do you propose to do now?" he asked.

She choked on a mouthful of water and glared at him through the lacy curtain of serrated leaves. "Don't concern yourselfa O'Shea. I've got everything under control. If you'll just return my flashlight nowa"

"Under control," indeed. "Nothing's changed, Mac. You're not going off alonea""

"I'm not going off anywhere. I just need to take care of something in the tunnel." She clenched her fists. "Please."

It would be simple enough to keep track of her from the tunnel entrance. She couldn't go far. Something had upset her, and he was determined to learn exactly what it was.

He extended the lantern and she s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hand. Without another word she squared her shoulders and marched straight into the tunnel as if she were about to confront a man-eating dragon.

For all he knew that was exactly what she antic.i.p.ated. Better a dragon than hima"if even a part of his suspicions proved true.

Liam set down his haversack and pitched the brim of his hat low over his eyes. He made himself comfortable under the shade of the temple wall, checked his pistol and let it rest in his lap. He'd give her a half hour, no more. There was little time to waste indulging her freakish starts or devious gamesa"if that was what they were.

He'd left the sack in the tunnel when he and Perry had first arrived, never suspecting the need for emergency supplies would come from such an unpredictable quarter. Along with the additional food Perry had left him, there might be enough to tide two people over for a week, no more.

Two men. A woman was another matter entirely. If she were truly alone herea He jerked awake, shoved back his hat and sat up. The long shadows and dim light told him that over an hour had pa.s.sed. d.a.m.n it, he'd slepta"an amateur's mistake.

There was still a faint throbbing in his knee where something had struck it. Mac couldn't have come out of the tunnel without tripping over his legs; Liam stood and looked from the tunnel entrance to the faint clearing beside the temple.

She was sitting on a fallen stele, staring into the jungle. Her pack lay at her feet. There was something strange in her bearing, in the way she didn't move as the seconds pa.s.sed, the way she held her hands out in front of her with a peculiar stiffness.

She turned her head as he came near. Her gaze held his with a vulnerability that stopped his questions before he could voice them.

"Something isa very weird here," she said. "I found the wall, buta it just ends. There's no way through. It's the same and not the same. I know it's the right wall, but the bonesa" She shuddered. "They aren't there anymore."

He knew the wall she meant; it was the place he and Perry had found the carved plaque of stone from which they'd made their matching pendants. Symbols of a brotherhood that no longer existed.

He shook off his lapse and crouched before Mac. "The wall with the hieroglyphs?" he asked. "It ends the tunnel. There is no way through. What bones are you talking about?"

"I thought they werea"" She lifted her hands. For the first time he saw that her palms were raw with bleeding scratches, as if made by ragged stone. "This isn't possible, you know. There isn't any real proof. Ia""

Liam caught her hands and held them still. "What in h.e.l.l did you do to yourself?"

She laughed raggedly. "I was sure there must be something, buta""

Her coherence hadn't improved since she'd gone into the tunnel again, and neither had her rationality. "Be quiet," he commanded. "Just stay there and be quiet." He went back for his sack and dropped it beside the stele, pulling out his own canteen. She remained unnaturally still, watching him as he poured water over her palms and washed away the blood.

"You don't have to do this," she said, smiling with the distracted air of a good-natured lunatic. "I'm okay. Everything will be fine."

He caught her chin in his hand. Her cheek was clammy, and the pulse that beat under the skin at the base of her neck was faint and rapid. She was in a state of shock; he'd seen such conditions before. "I told you to be quiet," he said gruffly. "Sit still and do as you're told."

She blinked and shrugged without protest, proving just how disturbed she must be. Liam used his knife to tear off pieces of mosquito netting from the sack of emergency supplies and made bandages for her hands, knotting them firmly behind her knuckles.

"You know, the Maya were obsessed with time," she went on. "It would make a weird kind of sense, if it's true. The funny thing is, I know I'm not crazy."

Liam lifted her in his arms and carried her to the shade under the ruined wall. "Of course not," he grunted. Slender as she was, she was no wraith. He eased her down on what remained of the mosquito netting.

"I'm just not the kind of person who has delusions," she said, sliding bonelessly onto the makes.h.i.+ft bed. "Whatever Homer said, I don't have the imagination to come up with so mucha perfect detail." She flexed her hands in their bandages, counting off on her fingers. "The wall is the same, but the bones aren't there. Neither is Homer's cap. And the first path is gone. And it did look like Tikal, only not the way it did when I left ita"the way Maudslay photographed it. And then there's youa" She squinted up at him. "You're just too perfect."

"Thanks."

"And I think I've established that it can't be some sort of practical joke. Just not possible. I'm not deada""

"It's a wonder," Liam murmured, cursing his lack of a blanket to cover her with. He had only his s.h.i.+rt, and it was too' damp and thin to be of much use.

"a"so if I'm not crazy," she mumbled, "it must be real. Doesn't that make sense?"

"Perfect sense." G.o.d save him.

She tried to sit up, and he pushed her back down. Already her pulse seemed stronger, her skin less pale. He removed the cap of his own canteen, pulled down her lower lip with his thumb, and poured water into her mouth as if she were a child. After the first few swallows she gave a m.u.f.fled protest and took the canteen herself.

When she'd finished he reached for the canteen, but she stopped him with a touch. Her fingers were trembling as they brushed his hand and pointed at the engraved metal band near the mouthpiece.

"Youa really area Liam O'Shea," she whispered.

He followed her stare. The engraved, silver-chased canteen had been a gift from Caroline's father the year they'd met, when Liam had been a simple miner and Gresham the mine owner whose life he'd saved. Gresham was dead now, and he'd left Liam a far more precious endowmenta"a trust Liam was failing at this very moment.

d.a.m.n Perry.

"So my sainted mother named me," he said acidly. "Why does that surprise you?"

She inched backward on her elbows and propped herself against the wall. "I don't know," she said. "No. I don't know howa"

He took her shoulders between his hands. "Were you expecting to find me here?"

"Here?" She chuckled weakly. "No. Not likea"" She closed her eyes, laughter dying. "Can you give me my pack?"

He did as she asked. Her movements were deliberate as she opened the top flap; for the first time he noticed the strange interlocking teeth that held it closed. But when she'd pulled out the photograph she pushed the pack behind her, out of his reach.

"You wanted to know about this photograph?" she said. "It was taken in Tikal in 1880."

Liam restrained his impatience. At last he was getting answers, however jumbled. "I was there," he said.

"Okay. Now look at it closely." She held it up with all the exaggerated pedantry of a professor in a cla.s.sroom. "Does it look like it's only a few years old?"

He humored her, ignoring the stab of anger that came with the sight of Perry. Indeed, there was something aged about the paper, creased and a bit ragged about the edges, the image faded. He'd seen this photograph in Perry's rooms only a month ago, protected behind gla.s.s.

There was no question about it. Perry must have given it to Mac. Their meeting in the tunnel couldn't have been coincidence.

"How long have you had this?" he demanded.

She didn't even flinch at his harshness. "Not long. But it's been around for quite some time. You're seeing a century of wear and tear."

Liam laughed. There was nothing else to do. But she didn't draw back, didn't smile, didn't do anything but gaze at him with a sort of desperate earnestness.

"Don't you see?" she begged. "Of course you don't. You think I'm nuts. I would too, excepta"I can't even explain it myself. Something happened to me in that tunnel. Before I met you. Oh, d.a.m.n." She wrapped her arms around her narrow waist and bent over.

If he was right about her she deserved to suffer. And yeta "Lie down," he ordered. "You're ill."

Her head snapped up. "You want answers, O'Shea? You want to know how I got here? I can tell you how I got to Tikal the first time. By airplane and tour bus, with a bunch of other tourists. Does that make any sense to you?"

Sense? Nothing about her made sense. "Airplane," he repeated flatly.

"You know, the metal things that fly in the sky." She nodded at his silence. "You don't know. The Wright brothers haven't done their thing yet. They're only teenagersa uh, now. And there were no tour buses in the Petn in thea 1880sa" She drifted away again. "This is too fantastic. Homer would never accept this."

Liam's fingers itched, whether to strangle her or merely shake her he didn't know. "Homer?"

"My grandfather. He gave me the photograph. It wasa pa.s.sed on to him. He never knew Perry. I never knew him. But now he's actually alive in San Franciscoa"

Enough was enough. "What in h.e.l.l are you trying to say?"