Paula nodded slowly. “But we can’t go back there,” she said quietly. “We have to leave.”
“No, no, we cannot go. You will have to hide!”
“We have to go, Henri,” Nick said firmly. “And we will go. But you don’t need to. I’ll pay what you want for the boat, but I’m going to take it out of here tonight.”
Henri stared at him. “Paula is my friend,” he said finally. “There is no payment for the boat. Leave it in the cove at San Jorge where Paula will show you. If I can collect it, I will. If not—” he shrugged.
“Thanks, Henri,” said Nick. “Show me the boat.”
Ten minutes later they were out in the bay. It was a small boat with a tiny motor and a lateen sail; nothing much to look at, but it would take them where they were going. On board there were medical supplies, fishing gear, rough fishermen’s clothes, a little food.
A mild breeze edged them seaward. Nick could see the lights of other small boats dotting the sea. Paula sat in the stern and stared at nothing.
“We are early, there is no need to hurry,” she said tonelessly. “If they are searching for us they will not find us out here. But we must wait to go into San Jorge with the rest of the fishing boats or we might be stopped when we get there. Drop the net and fish if you like. We have time. Also it will look better.”
Nick spread the net and calculated how much time they had. Plenty, he decided. They could drift for a couple of hours before heading directly for San Jorge. Both of them could use the rest. A slight foggy drizzle was oozing down upon them, and he lowered the lateen sail over the spar so it could serve as a shelter. Then he found the sea anchor and pitched it overboard so that they would not drift too far out to sea. Paula did not even notice as he opened the medicine chest and applied rough plasters to the two bullet scrapes inflicted by Tom Kee.
When he finished he looked at her in the dim light of their inboard lamp. Her face was expressionless but her cheeks were wet. It was not from the rain, he knew.
“Paula.”
No answer.
“Paula. Get under the sail. I know what you’re thinking— but don’t. We have all the more reason now to take hold of ourselves and get on with the job.” He knew it must have sounded inane, but there were times when even he ran out of the right things to say. “Come here.”
He reached for her gently and drew her beneath the canvas shelter. Then he cupped her face between his hands and kissed her tenderly.
And suddenly she was in his arms.
In the Darkness Before Dawn
He held her while she sobbed silently against his chest, and he went on holding her when the sobbing had subsided. She clung to him as if she would drown without his strength to save her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she gasped. “It is most… unwomanly of me.”
“It is very womanly of you,” he said firmly, and softly stroked her hair. The firm breasts, surprisingly full and ripe beneath the coarse, loose shirt, pressed against his chest and her fingers squeezed into his back. His breathing accelerated suddenly in spite of all his years of Yoga training.
“Paula….” he whispered. He touched her lips again with his and let them linger longingly, and when she did not pull away he drew her even closer and kissed her with growing heat. Her mouth opened slightly and she responded with an urgency that sent his pulses racing. Her hands moved to the back of his neck and held it with a sort of desperation so that their mouths crushed together hotly and he could scarcely have turned his head even if he had wanted to. His hand slid down her side and down her thigh, and still she did not protest. The kiss burned even brighter.
At last she turned her head aside.
“You don’t have to do that,” she breathed. “I don’t want sympathy.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m not offering it to you. Is that what you think this is?”
He kissed her again, this time almost savagely, and cupped her breast in his hand. It swelled beneath the cloth and he caressed it while his tongue met hers. She kissed back hungrily and her tense body gradually relaxed. They were breathless when they drew apart.
When she spoke she sounded almost formal.
“I have not thought of love since Tonio died,” she said. “I have not wanted any man to touch me.” She began to unbutton her rough shirt. “Did you hear me? I said Move.”
“I heard you,” said Nick, and a little pulse beat in his temple. And not only in his temple. He touched the smooth skin beneath her breasts as her shirt slid off. She caught his hand and held it against her.
“I knew you thought me hard,” she whispered. “Do you still think so?”
“No,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her and unfastening a tiny catch. “Soft, beautifully soft. Are you like that all over?”
“Why should I tell you? Is it so difficult for you to find out?”
It was not so difficult. He found that out as he helped her finish her undressing, and as she helped him finish his. Her skin was petal-soft all over, and beneath it lay a splendid form that was taut where it should be taut and yielding where it should be yielding. Nick made a blanket of their clothes and together they lay upon it, touching each other eagerly as they lay down and drawing close even before their heads touched the skimpy pillow. Their mouths met again in a long explosive kiss and then they were exploring each other with their movements and their hands. Nick felt her thighs tremble beside him as he kissed her perfect nipples and made them rise into tiny peaks. He made his hands glide slowly over her body, although the passion was already so strong in him that he knew she must know it also. She touched him lightly where he ached the most, and he sighed with pleasure. He caressed her marvelous flat belly, covering it with kisses, and moved down. Her legs parted a little as he felt her warmth and softness, felt her eagerness. His probe was gentle, loving, though his kisses were becoming bites of urgency.
“Oh, my darling!” she gasped suddenly. “Not too soon, not too soon! Hold me for a little while.”
He stopped instantly and held her so close that she was almost part of him. Soon she would be part of him, but not until she wanted it. She moved her thighs slowly against his and kissed him with such gentle longing that his desire for her became something more than lust for a lithe body. It had been a little more than that ever since he’d caught the faint breath of her perfume and felt the softness of her lips back there in the cave, but now it was growing into something that he seldom permitted himself to feel. Nick Carter, Killmaster for AXE, was close to something like real love.
Nick caressed her very gently, Paula relaxed like a cat, but like a cat she was ready to respond to every touch, and like a cat she nibbled at the one caressing her. Her hips were undulating slightly, stimulating him, and her fingers clutched at him with all their supple strength. She was no Oriental houri, no pseudo-sophisticated college girl, no succubus to drain the life from him and leave him empty and unsatisfied. She was hungry for love, and so was he, and they matched each other as though they had been born to come together. Nick measured her against him as they lay together and found nothing wanting. For the first time he could fully appreciate the splendors that had been concealed by her workmanlike clothes. His body and his hands discovered what his eyes had never seen — a shape that was perfection, a feminine body at its magnificent best, a streamlined lovely thing that was vibrant with energy and yet wonderfully controlled. And there was a strength about her that excited him enormously, a pliant sort of strength that challenged and yet begged to be subdued.