Vincente were working on something when I interrupted. Why don’t you get him back in here, and I’ll just sit and listen.”
Andres was watching her, smiling, his face more tranquil than she had yet seen it. And his black eyes were burning, intense, hungry. Softly he said, “I can barely think when you’re in the same room.”
Sara caught her breath, felt the leaping response of her heart. But she was light, careful.“You’d better learn to,” she murmured, and wandered over to the shelves of books he kept near his desk. She heard a quiet laugh from him, then his footsteps as he left the room. She chose a book at random and went to sit in an overstuffed chair.
How easily he makes love with words! Like no other man she had ever met. He held her captive. Intrigued. Enthralled. Was it Donne who had said something about never being free until—? She frowned a little, then looked at the title of her book and laughed aloud. She wasn’t surprised to find Donne among the pages, and to find the quotation she had half remembered. “Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free.…”
She slowly turned the pages of the well-thumbed book, wondering how many times Andres had searched here and found, as she did, the words of kindred spirits struggling with similar baffling emotions. They shared a love of words, but Andres had the better command of them. Probably he could talk the devil out ofhell, she thought, given a few moment’s grace and a fan to hold back the flames.
She looked up as Andres and Colonel Durant came back into the room, faintly amused to see the colonel eyeing her a bit warily. “I won’t blow up in your face, Vincente,” she told him gravely.
Andres chuckled as he moved to his desk, and Durant followed his president, murmuring, “No. You already did, I think.”
Sara smiled and bent her head over the book again, reading a line here, a verse there. And she listened as Andres and his colonel went back to work, quickly realizing they were trying to pinpoint Lucio’s most recent camp from their knowledge of previous ones and of the terrain. It was a slow, frustrating business, hampered by the sheer size of Kadeira’s jungles and by Lucio’s almost magical ability to hide within them.
She only half listened at first. Gradually she felt more and more of herself drawn toward the desk. And Andres. She felt his gaze on her from time to time, as tangible as touch. She heard, as always, his voice give him away at such moments with tiny breaks, almost infinitesimal lapses inthe rhythm of his sentences to Vincente. And she could feel, as if her own mind had wandered, his struggle to gather strayed thoughts into coherency.
“I can barely think with you in the same room.”
It was desire. She knew that because she felt the effects of it herself. But it was also more. It was an affinity, a
connection
between them. The unnerving awareness of being a part of another mind and heart, less alone than before, and so vulnerable because of it.
No wonder she had run. Cut Andres and she would bleed; hurt him and she would feel the pain. And she knew it was the same for him, knew it from an anguished voice in her memory saying broken prayers at her bedside.
And from other voices, other memories.
“ ‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange?’ ” His voice had been rough with feeling.
Yes, strange. How very strange, she thought. They hadn’t been looking for it, either of them.In truth they hadn’t wanted it. But it had them, captured, compelled.
She hoped she was strong enough for this, hoped it desperately. Because, just like Andres, if she lost this, she would lose the best part of all she could ever be.
F IVE
W HEN IT BECAME obvious that Andres and the colonel were going to be up very late working over their maps, Sara quietly excused herself, deciding to go to bed. Andres came out into the hall with her, closing the office door behind
Andres was watching her, smiling, his face more tranquil than she had yet seen it. And his black eyes were burning, intense, hungry. Softly he said, “I can barely think when you’re in the same room.”
Sara caught her breath, felt the leaping response of her heart. But she was light, careful.“You’d better learn to,” she murmured, and wandered over to the shelves of books he kept near his desk. She heard a quiet laugh from him, then his footsteps as he left the room. She chose a book at random and went to sit in an overstuffed chair.
How easily he makes love with words! Like no other man she had ever met. He held her captive. Intrigued. Enthralled. Was it Donne who had said something about never being free until—? She frowned a little, then looked at the title of her book and laughed aloud. She wasn’t surprised to find Donne among the pages, and to find the quotation she had half remembered. “Take me to you, imprison me, for I, except you enthrall me, never shall be free.…”
She slowly turned the pages of the well-thumbed book, wondering how many times Andres had searched here and found, as she did, the words of kindred spirits struggling with similar baffling emotions. They shared a love of words, but Andres had the better command of them. Probably he could talk the devil out ofhell, she thought, given a few moment’s grace and a fan to hold back the flames.
She looked up as Andres and Colonel Durant came back into the room, faintly amused to see the colonel eyeing her a bit warily. “I won’t blow up in your face, Vincente,” she told him gravely.
Andres chuckled as he moved to his desk, and Durant followed his president, murmuring, “No. You already did, I think.”
Sara smiled and bent her head over the book again, reading a line here, a verse there. And she listened as Andres and his colonel went back to work, quickly realizing they were trying to pinpoint Lucio’s most recent camp from their knowledge of previous ones and of the terrain. It was a slow, frustrating business, hampered by the sheer size of Kadeira’s jungles and by Lucio’s almost magical ability to hide within them.
She only half listened at first. Gradually she felt more and more of herself drawn toward the desk. And Andres. She felt his gaze on her from time to time, as tangible as touch. She heard, as always, his voice give him away at such moments with tiny breaks, almost infinitesimal lapses inthe rhythm of his sentences to Vincente. And she could feel, as if her own mind had wandered, his struggle to gather strayed thoughts into coherency.
“I can barely think with you in the same room.”
It was desire. She knew that because she felt the effects of it herself. But it was also more. It was an affinity, a
connection
between them. The unnerving awareness of being a part of another mind and heart, less alone than before, and so vulnerable because of it.
No wonder she had run. Cut Andres and she would bleed; hurt him and she would feel the pain. And she knew it was the same for him, knew it from an anguished voice in her memory saying broken prayers at her bedside.
And from other voices, other memories.
“ ‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you; is not that strange?’ ” His voice had been rough with feeling.
Yes, strange. How very strange, she thought. They hadn’t been looking for it, either of them.In truth they hadn’t wanted it. But it had them, captured, compelled.
She hoped she was strong enough for this, hoped it desperately. Because, just like Andres, if she lost this, she would lose the best part of all she could ever be.
F IVE
W HEN IT BECAME obvious that Andres and the colonel were going to be up very late working over their maps, Sara quietly excused herself, deciding to go to bed. Andres came out into the hall with her, closing the office door behind
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