MacKenzie's Woman Read online

  This time the flames didn’t just rise in her face, but flared dangerously in other, more intimate, body parts as well, making K.J. feel as if she just might be on the verge of bursting into spontaneous combustion.

  “Well, you’re not going to get the chance,” she said, summoning up the last tangled threads of her Campbell willpower. “Because, since I’m exhausted, I’d rather catch up on my sleep than attempt to row upstream in a rainstorm. So I believe I’ll just spend the night in the village, after all.”

  “Good call.”

  “I’m ever so pleased you approve,” she said with saccharine sweetness. “Which brings me to the subject of where I’m going to be staying. The boatman who brought me here—”

  “Raul.”

  He was doing it again. Cutting off her thoughts in midstream, when it was difficult enough to try to keep them together without the continual interruptions, She arched a tawny brow. “Excuse me?”

  “His name is Raul. Your boatman.”

  “Oh.” Strange that he’d know that, K.J. mused, When he’d supposedly been in here drinking beer when she’d arrived. A niggling little suspicion stirred in the far reaches of her mind, causing her to wonder if perhaps her arrival here in the village wasn’t such a surprise to Alec at all. It made sense that his agent would have informed him she was coming. Could he have actually sent someone upriver to fetch her?

  “Well, anyway, he—Raul—” she stressed, earning another satisfied nod from him, “says that the hotel, or lodge, or whatever it’s called, is booked solid.”

  “He’s right. The tribe has only begun to allow outsiders to witness their secret ceremonies. Which pretty much guarantees a full house during festivals.”

  “But if the festival doesn’t begin until tomorrow evening, surely there should be a bed at the lodge just for tonight.”

  “Sorry. The tourists always come in a day early. To get acclimated to their surroundings. And the weather.”

  She could certainly understand that. Although she also suspected it would take more than twenty-four hours to acclimatize to such an unfamiliar environment.

  “But surely there must be someplace else—another village nearby, perhaps, or—”

  “Well, there is a village a couple miles downriver.” Alec rubbed his unshaven jaw. “But it’s not really all that much of an option. Unless you’re interested in being the honored guest at dinner.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.” In her tourist guide on the flight from New York, she’d read about the generosity of many primitive Amazon tribes. Of course, the downside of that was that she’d also read about termites being a mainstay of several menus.

  “I suppose that all depends,” Alec said.

  K.J, knew he wanted her to ask him to elaborate. She waited him out as long as possible, then finally threw up her hands.

  “All right, I’ll bite. Depends on what?”

  He skimmed a darkly wicked glance over her. “Depends on how you’d feel about being served up as the entrée.”

  6

  “ENTRÉE? Surely you don’t mean... That can’t be possible in this day and age.... You can’t be saying that there are actually cannibals still living in this jungle?”

  “Hey, don’t worry your pretty head about it.” She looked so distressed that if he wasn’t still irritated at her, Alec might have almost regretted the lie. “So long as you don’t go off on your own, you’re fairly safe.” He tilted his head and eyed her thoughtfully. “Of course, none of the natives in this isolated neck of the woods have ever seen anyone with your hair color. Which would make your lovely red head a nice prize to take back home on a stake to their chief. In fact, I’ll bet such a gift might even win a headhunting warrior a night with the chief’s daughter.” He rubbed his jaw again. “Since you’re such a rare find, they might decide to take you prisoner first. So they can try you out, so to speak, before boiling you over a fire.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re lying.” This was his way of getting even with her. She was sure of it.

  Sure enough to put it to the test? the little voice inside her head challenged.

  “You wound me, Kate. Is that any way for a wife to talk to her beloved husband?”

  His wolfish smile had K.J. feeling a great deal like Red Riding Hood. Oh, it was unarguably charming. But, she suspected, ultimately dangerous.

  Before she could challenge him further, a tall, handsome man appeared beside their table.

  “Alec,” he said, his liquid brown eyes focused on K.J., “aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely companion?” His voice was every bit as warm and smooth as his eyes.

  Although Rafael was a close friend, Alec damn well didn’t like him looking at Kate the way a starving man might look at a piece of prime rib.

  “Kate, this is a friend of mine, Rafael Santos. Rafael, this is Katherine Jeanne Mackenzie. My wife,” he reminded his friend, just in case he may have forgotten that salient little point.

  “Hello, Senor Santos,” K.J. said politely.

  “Buenos dias, Senora Mackenzie.” Alec seethed as Rafael lifted K.J.’s outstretched hand to his lips, continental style. “Welcome to our little village. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

  He was smiling as he gave her an unthreatening, but thoroughly male perusal. “Alec has told me a great deal about you, but I see now that even his effusive words regarding your charm and beauty were an understatement.”

  Oh, he was smooth, K.J. thought. Smooth as melted Hershey’s chocolate. And despite his movie-starhandsome looks and that flattering dark gaze that would have strummed feminine chords in any woman, he didn’t affect her the way Alec could without even trying.

  “That’s very flattering, Señor Santos,” she murmured.

  “It’s the truth. If Alec had met you when he and I were roommates during our college days, señora, I believe I would have had no choice but to contest him for your affections.”

  “You were at college together?”

  “University College, Oxford,” he confirmed. “Alec was in the archaeology department, of course. I was studying social environmentalism.”

  K.J. tried to recall if Alec had told her he’d attended Oxford, then realized that even if he had, she undoubtedly wouldn’t have heard him. Her mind, at the time, had not exactly been on his academic credentials.

  “What, exactly, is social environmentalism?” she asked Rafael in a way that reminded Alec of how fascinated she’d seemed that night in the hotel bar, while he’d been discussing his work. And this expedition.

  “It’s a bit complex, utilizing all the social sciences, but what it mostly boils down to is a study of man’s relationship to his environment. And how to make room for a burgeoning population on an increasingly fragile planet.”

  “I’m intrigued.” She took a longer, more judicial look at the man who appeared so comfortable in the loosely woven shirt and trousers. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met an Oxford man.”

  “You’ve met me,” Alec reminded her. “Besides,” he said through clenched teeth, hating the way Kate was gazing up at Rafael admiringly, “it’s not that big a deal. Lots of people go to Oxford.”

  “I certainly don’t meet that many,” she countered with false sweetness, thoroughly enjoying the way her innocent interest in his friend seemed to be irritating Alec so.

  She turned her attention back to Rafael. “And since I’ve always donated to environmental causes, I find what you’re trying to do very admirable.”

  “It’s not as if I have much choice if I want to save both the rain forest and my people.”

  “Your people?” She glanced around the cantina, which now had many more customers than when she’d first arrived. Obviously, K.J. realized, she was proving a curiosity in Santa Clara. “I assumed from your name that you were of Spanish descent.”

  “On my father’s side. My mother was Indian. And, before her death, the royal princess.”

  “Really?” Once again her rapt expressi
on had Alec grinding his teeth. “Would that make you a prince?”

  “Technically, I suppose it would,” Rafael said modestly. “Our people are a matriarchal society, but since I don’t have any sisters, the tribe decided to send me out into civilization to learn the new ways to keep them from extinction.”

  “I’m very impressed. I’ve never met a king before, either.”

  “Prince,” he corrected easily. “And believe me, Señora Mackenzie, it’s not all that impressive.”

  “And it’s a small tribe,” Alec grunted, hating the way Kate was smiling up at Rafael like some beauty queen trying to win a judge’s vote at a pageant.

  Rafael’s lips twitched ever so slightly at his friend’s irritated tone. “True. And we’re not nearly as wealthy as the European or Middle Eastern ones that normally come to mind when you think of royalty. But so far, despite so many of our people marrying into the Spanish community, we’ve managed to survive and keep much of our culture intact. Which some consider a miracle in itself.”

  If Rafael was at all uncomfortable at the tension arcing between Alec and K.J., he didn’t show it. He glanced over at his college friend. “I assume you’ve told Kate about the festival?”

  “I was just starting to,” Alec all but growled as the green-eyed monster’s claws dug a little deeper into his gut at the sound of his own private name for his wife on his best friend’s lips.

  Deciding to pay him back just a little bit more for the sexy barmaid, K.J. continued to ignore Alec as she smiled up at the mahogany man with the dark, sexy eyes. “From Alec’s description, the festival sounds absolutely fascinating.”

  “I suppose fascinating is in the eye of the beholder,” Rafael said mildly, this time not quite repressing a grin that was obviously at Alec’s expense.

  Alec was seething. Before Rafael’s arrival at their table, Kate had been openly disinterested in the festival. More than that, she’d seemed dead set against attending. Now she was looking as if she’d just been given an invitation to a Mardi Gras ball in Rio.

  “How long does it last?” K.J. asked.

  “Three days. It starts at sundown tomorrow night. By then all the tourists will have flown in.”

  “Flown in? On a plane?” Her spine, which had begun to sag earlier, turned as stiff as a Highlander’s spear. “There’s a way to fly into here?”

  “Of course,” Rafael assured her. “Although we’re not exactly a hub of civilization, the village does need supplies. And the ability to airlift someone out if they’re hurt or sick. The airstrip isn’t big enough for commercial jets, but it can handle the charter planes that bring in food, clothing and medicine. And, these days, tourists interested in observing one of the world’s last living Stone Age tribes.”

  “A plane,” K.J. repeated numbly.

  Awaiting the fireworks, Alec shrugged his shoulders and took another long swallow of beer.

  “The airstrip’s proven quite handy,” Rafael divulged. “It’s made our tourist trade possible.”

  “An airstrip,” she repeated flatly. “For the tourists.”

  “Not many turistas are willing to risk traveling on the river,” Rafael said.

  “Gee. I wonder why not?” she asked dryly, thinking back over her own dangerous journey. “To tell the truth, I’m amazed a place this far from civilization gets many tourists.”

  “Actually, we’ve become a popular destination among those wealthy Americans, Europeans and Japanese who’ve grown tired of the usual jet-setting haunts,” Rafael responded. “Even Kenya is in danger of being overdone. This is about the last unspoiled destination on earth.”

  “You certainly won’t get any argument from me there,” K.J. agreed. “So is tourism how the tribe survives these days?” She thought that a bit sad, even if perhaps it did help keep the culture alive.

  “In the short term. Although it hasn’t been easy, I’ve convinced the elders to give up the old slash-and-burn agriculture that’s been destroying the forest. In the long term, we’re negotiating several contracts with various American and French pharmaceutical companies who are turning to our native plants in hopes of finding cures for cancer and other illnesses. Meanwhile, before that money starts coming in, we decided to cater to the booming adventure tourism crowd.”

  “Which brings us back to that airstrip,” she murmured. She put her elbows on the table and lowered her head to her hands. “Where planes land. Loaded with rich tourists.”

  Alec and Rafael exchanged a look, Rafael seeming less than pleased with the deception that had caused her such obvious misery. For his part, Alec sat back and wondered when he’d become the kind of bastard who could actually enjoy watching a beautiful woman’s distress.

  When she finally lifted her gaze to his, her eyes shot furious sparks that reminded him that his Campbell wife was not as fragile as her reed-slender appearance might suggest.

  “Why didn’t your agent mention that I could just fly into the village?”

  “I have no idea,” Alec lied, lifting his shoulders in a careless shrug. “Actually, I’m not certain I ever mentioned the airstrip to her, since she wasn’t planning on making the trip herself.”

  K.J. gave him another long look. “Why do I not entirely buy that story?”

  “Beats me.” He gave her his most sincere smile in return. “I suppose it has something to do with your exhaustion. It’s always harder to think logically when you’re still suffering from jet lag.”

  “I never get jet lag. And I’m always logical.”

  Alec couldn’t help smiling. “Not always,” he corrected. Then, before she could respond to that reminder of the rash, absolutely illogical night they’d shared, he stood up. “Come on, let’s get you settled in before dinner.”

  She was looking at his outstretched hand as if she were Snow White and he was the wicked stepmother holding out the poisoned apple.

  When she continued just to sit there, Alec plucked her hand from the tabletop, laced their fingers together and eased her to her feet.

  Deciding that to shake loose of his possessive touch would only add to the gossip undoubtedly circulating around the village, she allowed her hand to stay in his. She said goodbye to Rafael, who assured her he was definitely looking forward to seeing her later, then left the building with Alec.

  As steamy as it had been inside, the bright sun and suffocating heat hit like a fist as they came out of the dark cantina. Although he’d long since grown accustomed to the breath-stealing humidity, Alec felt Kate sway beside him.

  “Want to go back inside?” He put a supportive arm around her waist.

  “No.” Once more he had to give her credit for being a lot tougher than she looked. He felt her stiffen beneath his hand, watched her luscious mouth pull into a grim, determined line. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  He gave her another long look, then decided that if she did decide to faint on him, he’d have no trouble picking her up. She was, if anything, even more slender than she’d been when he’d carried her over the threshold of his hotel room.

  “Your call.” He began walking, shortening his usually long-legged stride for her benefit.

  As she realized he was leading her even farther away from the river, K.J. looked back toward the lush green bank. “My bags—”

  “Don’t worry. They’ve been taken care of.”

  “They’ve been taken to the lodge?”

  “I thought we’d settled on the fact that the lodge is all booked up.”

  “Well, I know that’s what the boatman—”

  “Raul,” Alec corrected quietly, but firmly.

  “That’s what Raul said.” She stressed the man’s name and received a satisfied nod in response. “But I thought that with your obvious influence, and being friends with the prince and all, surely you’d be able to do something.”

  “Like wave my magic wand and make a luxury suite appear?” He shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart, but there isn’t a bed to be had. But you wouldn’t like the lodge, anyway, beca
use it’s set up dormitory style. No privacy.”

  “Oh.” She thought that over for a moment. Then, although she’d shoved the dark glasses back onto her face, Alec imagined he could see the suspicion darkening her eyes again as she stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. “So where will I be spending the night?”

  “The obvious place, of course,” he answered. His wicked grin dared K.J. to offer a single word of complaint. “With your beloved husband.”

  She was too exhausted to argue that point at the moment. As he led her through the jungle, K.J. felt a lot like Deborah Kerr being directed away from the perils of the African jungle by Stewart Granger, in King Solomon ’s Mines. Coincidentally, she’d seen the movie on late-night cable just a few days before she’d stupidly agreed to track Alec down and bring him to New York for the bachelor auction.

  Much of the overhead vegetation had been cleared from the village center. But here, beyond the gathering of huts, the multiple level of trees overhead created a lush green canopy that resembled leafy Gothic buttresses.

  “How far are we going?” she asked, refusing to show weakness by complaining, but desperately hoping that Alec’s hut was somewhere close by. When her foot slipped on a moss-covered branch, she reached out to steady herself and then cried out when she pricked her hand.

  Alec turned around at her faint cry, realizing what she’d done. “Damn,” he muttered. “I should have thought to warn you not to touch anything. Especially one of these give-and-take trees.”

  K.J. watched as he took a deadly looking knife from a leather sheath on his belt and, being careful to avoid the needlelike spines, sliced off a piece of outer bark from a nearby tree.

  “This will fix you right up.” He took hold of her burning hand with a surprisingly tender touch and dabbed a bit of the gauzelike inner bark on her palm and the base of her fingers. When he lifted her hand up to his mouth and blew lightly on that sensitive skin, K.J. felt a flare of heat that had nothing to do with her injury. “Feel better?”

  Actually, it did. “That’s amazing.”

  “The jungle can be a vicious place.” Alec resisted, just barely, the urge to press his lips against that pale smooth flesh he was holding in his. “But it’s also generous with its cures. To those who know how to use them.”