Hunter's Woman Read online

  “Señorita,” he said earnestly, “I would give you my houseboat, my life, if you would only save the Juma.” He gestured around the small, stifling cabin. “My home is your home. I will do all I can to help you. I will wake you at first light, eh?”

  Ty moved to the center of the narrow aisle. “That’s fine, Rafe. See you in the morning.”

  Catt sat there, her fists knotted. She waited until Rafe had disappeared up the stairs before she spoke. Glaring up at Ty, who stood in the aisle, his presence overwhelming to her, she said, “You sleep down here. I’ll sleep on the deck.”

  Ty saw the panic in her face and heard it in her voice. “And for all you know, that anthrax or whatever it is could be up on that deck you want to sleep on, too. Rafe has no way of cleaning off this old scow. If you lie on that surface, you could breathe the spores in and you know it.” Ty desperately appealed to her medical sensibilities. If anthrax had been sprayed, then Rafe’s houseboat could also be carrying the spores.

  “Well…” Catt sputtered, “I—I just don’t want to be near you! Besides, Rafe told me earlier he’d had his boat mopped with water and bleach to disinfect it, so it should be safe enough.” Her heart was pounding. What would it be like to sleep less than two feet away from Ty once again? Anguish soared through her. He was too dangerous to her rollercoaster emotions. His nearness unsettled her, made her feel nakedly vulnerable to his gentleness, to his thoughtfulness when he chose to turn it on.

  Holding out his hands, Ty murmured, “Look, this will work. I’ll go topside. You get washed up, get your nightie on and get in bed, and then call me.” Torn, Catt felt exhaustion lapping at her senses. “Dammit, Hunter, I’m too tired to play games.”

  Grimly, Ty leaned across the table, both hands flat on its surface. “Listen to me, Catt,” he said in a low growl, “take care of yourself first. I’m going topside now. You got your luggage here?”

  He was startlingly close. She could smell the masculine odor of him and almost drowned in his intense cinnamon gaze. Catt leaned back, pressing herself against the cushion. “I—yes—it’s here.” She pointed to her suitcase in the corner.

  “Okay,” Ty rasped as he straightened up, “call me when you’re tucked in.”

  What was the use of fighting him? With a sigh, she said, “I will….” She felt defeated. She had thought briefly about going down to the tents to sleep with the team, but the tents were small and the sleeping quarters cramped. With all the equipment that had to be stored and kept in the riverbank camp, her team had no extra space for one more warm body. She was stuck here. The outbreak was enough of a stress without this complication. The responsibility for her team was weighing heavily on her now. Her mind jumped back and forth between the symptoms Rafe had spoken about, Ty’s insufferable hold over her roiling emotions, and worry for the safety of her team if it was, indeed, an anthrax outbreak.

  Ty was sitting up on deck, under a night sky covered with veils of wispy clouds. A slice of moon had risen and looked like the soft glow of a lightbulb hidden behind thick gauze. Only the gauze was the constant humidity meeting the cooler air above and creating clouds that hung perennially over the Amazon basin. He heard monkeys in the distance, screaming and howling. Frogs on the banks of the mighty Amazon croaked out their songs. Other than the creatures of the jungle everything was quiet and peaceful. For now. The lull didn’t fool him, however. His heart moved back to Catt, to the terrorized expression on her face when she’d realized she would be sleeping so near to him in that cramped cabin.

  It hurt to think that Catt was afraid of him. How deeply he’d loved her way back when. Rubbing his chest, Ty realized all those old feelings for her were still there—alive and clamoring to be revived. She was beautiful in a mature way now. More confident and sure of herself. He smiled wearily and wiped the sweat off his broad brow. Sleeping a few feet away from her was going to be a very special hell he’d never anticipated. Yet, above all, Ty had to protect Catt. And he wanted to. At all costs and all risks to himself. He’d die for her—it was that simple. Catt would never know that, however. She hated him so much for what he’d stupidly done to her that it would be pointless to mention how he felt about her.

  Well, he was getting back all he deserved. Hanging his head, he thought about the baby she’d lost. With a sad smile, he laughed bitterly at himself. For the last ten years, he often thought about what their son or daughter would have been like. In his heart, he’d wanted a daughter. Coming from a family of four boys, he figured it was a natural wish on his part. Ty had even gone so far as to think of possible names for his little daughter. His most favorite name was Christa, a variation on Catherine, her mother.

  With a shake of his head, he muttered, “Hunter, you are the sorriest bastard in this universe. You really screwed up good.”

  Catt called out Hunter’s name, her voice echoing up the stairway. She drew the cotton sheet in a protective motion across her. In her knee-length cotton nightgown, she felt intensely vulnerable as she heard him move cautiously down the creaking wooden steps. She shut her eyes tightly and pretended sleep. The low-wattage lightbulb was still on. To her surprise, as he came into the cabin, Ty switched it off. Relief flowed through Catt. She didn’t want him staring at her, and she could literally feel his gaze rake her form as she lay tensely on the narrow bunk.

  Ty forced himself to stop looking at Catt. The gauzy moonlight filtered through the narrow rectangular windows into the cabin, just strong enough to outline her soft, feminine body. He wanted to reach over and slide his hand across her shoulder. To somehow reach out and tell her just how sorry he was for her grief, her loss of their baby, and the pain she’d carried by herself for so many years. He should have been there for her. The heaviness in his chest wouldn’t go away. He opened up the other bed, pulled a sheet and pillow from an overhead cabinet and placed them across it. In a few minutes his makeshift bed was ready.

  The gentle motion of the houseboat was lulling to Catt, but her hearing was acutely keyed to Ty. He was trying to be quiet. When he went to the small bathroom to shower, she released a shaky breath. Gripping the cotton sheet in her fist, she opened her eyes and turned over onto her back. Looking across the aisle, she saw that he’d haphazardly made his bed. It was so close to hers! Gulping, Catt sat up. What was she going to do? She’d opened the windows, and yet there was little breeze. It was stifling in the cabin, or perhaps she was feeling trapped by Ty’s larger-than-life presence.

  She heard the shower trickling to life and knew Ty was washing the stink of the Amazon off his hard, well-muscled body. Groaning, Catt buried her face in her hands. Too vividly, she recalled taking showers with Ty. The way he’d sinuously lathered the soap across her arms, her shoulders, the way he’d cupped her aching breasts…

  “Stop it!” Catt muttered furiously. “Just stop it, Alborak!” She felt like she was going insane. What was this seesawing back and forth all about? Why did a part of her want this no-good bastard?

  Hearing the shower shut off, Catt quickly lay down again, turning her back to the aisle and to Ty when he emerged minutes later.

  Pushing the dripping water off his face with his fingers, Ty kept the towel wrapped about his hips as he moved carefully out into the darkened cabin. Glancing to his right, he saw Catt still lying there, her back toward him. Glumly, he shut the door and moved to his bed. Taking off the towel, the pale moonlight bathing his naked body, Ty eased between the sheets and pulled the top one up to his waist. He was never comfortable wearing pajamas. All they did was get tangled up and knotted. He was a restless sleeper and hated anything that confined him.

  “Good night,” he murmured as he lay down, his arm beneath his head. The darkness felt good, the moonlight just bright enough to outline shapes within the cabin. The slight, creaking sound of the houseboat as it moved with the ancient rhythm of the Amazon lulled him.

  “Night…” Catt muttered defensively.

  Ty closed his eyes. How he ached to have Catt in his arms again. What woul
d she feel like now? Warm? Lush? Ripe? Hot and unbridled as before? Probably all that and more. His heart and his lower body were tormenting him as possibilities floated through his mind. He heard her move around. With a sigh he realized there was a part of him that was still connected to her in some invisible way even now, and he marveled at how that connection had automatically resurrected itself after all these years. Still, he could feel distrust radiating from Catt. Her tension. Her anger. And most of all, the unrequited grief of her loss—their loss.

  His mouth pulled downward. Closing his eyes, Ty rasped out into the darkness, “Catt, for whatever it’s worth between us, I just want you to know how sorry I am about what happened. It was my fault you went through everything alone. I’m sorry you suffered so much. You were alone and I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t…and Lord knows, I wish things had turned out different. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. You’ve got to believe that. Please…”

  Catt choked back a sob. Ty’s voice was heavy with feeling, with tears of his own. She lay tensely and felt his anguish, felt his sincerity. “Damn you, Hunter. Just shut up, will you?” She sat up, the sheet falling away to reveal the lace on the collar of her sleeveless nightgown. She saw him open his eyes and look over at her.

  “Having you here is like a hot knife twisting twenty-four hours a day in my heart and gut! I can’t take it and I can’t take you!” Her voice rose with hurt. “You have a right to feel guilty as hell. Yes, I suffered. I grieved. I still grieve for the baby I lost.” Automatically, Catt pressed her hand against her abdomen in a protective gesture. “You showed your true stripes then. Whatever guilt is eating you up now is yours to keep. I don’t want to hear about it. Do you understand? Do you know how many years I sat with it, alone, without help? Without support? Well, it’s your turn. If you think I’m going to forgive you, forget it! We might have to work together, but I want you as far away from me emotionally as I can get. Do you understand that?”

  Catt was afraid. Afraid of the gentle warmth that burned in his eyes as he held her gaze. Tears glimmered in his eyes. It tore her up. She saw the suffering line of Ty’s mouth and knew how much he was hurting and grieving for the loss of her baby. That shook Catt as nothing else could.

  Jerking angrily at the sheet, Catt turned over, her back to him once again, and flopped down on the bed. As her head hit the pillow, she released a trembling sigh. How badly she wanted to cry for both of them. Well, what was done was done. She couldn’t bring back the baby she’d lost. Nor could Ty.

  As she lay there, feeling so very alone and grieving, Catt felt an ache in her womb, almost a memory of the old pain. Unconsciously, she slid her fingers across her rounded abdomen and pressed against it gently. The thought of having Ty’s baby within her once again almost made her sit straight up. Where had that thought come from? Aghast, Catt lay rigidly and tried to ignore that fleeting thought. No! Never. Not ever again! She would never allow him to touch her, kiss her or love her. If she couldn’t learn from the past, then she’d deserve whatever she got. And right now, they had a deadly outbreak that would be staring them down come morning. Somehow, Catt had to force herself to sleep. But how? The father of the baby she’d lost was less than three feet away. And his anguished admission had left her more torn up and hurting. She could no longer mask her pain behind her anger. Not with Ty around her night and day.

  Miserably, Catt closed her eyes. Sliding her hand beneath her cheek, she swallowed hard against a sob trying to tear from her throat.

  Chapter Six

  Ty had seen outbreaks before, but never one like this. At dawn they had trekked the mile back through the jungle to the Juma village. Thatched huts sat in a semicircle that faced the Amazon in the distance. The surrounding jungle, composed of a triple canopy of trees of varying heights, made the place look like a picture postcard.

  But the picturesque value quickly dissolved when he saw the strain, the tears and grief on the faces of the Juma who cared for those who were dying. And the moans and cries, the suffering of those infected, grabbed at him. The people of the village had reddish skin, shiny black hair and dark brown eyes. They were a small, lithe people, Ty observed, reminding him of the small graceful people of Thailand. And they were all dressed in faded cotton clothes of the same type the beggars in Manaus wore. They were a poor people. They spoke no English, only their Juma language and some pidgin Portuguese.

  Ty’s duties were twofold, and he was nervous and edgy. He didn’t leave Catt’s side, although this morning she looked like hell warmed over. There were smudges beneath her bloodshot eyes, and her mouth was compressed, which told him she was wrestling with a lot of inner pain. His admission last night had ripped them both apart, but he had had to say it, because his grief was like a poison eating him alive. Catt had to know how sorry he really was. Now his chest felt heavy as he followed her and Rafe toward Chief Aroka’s hut, which sat in the center of the semicircle.

  The chief, dressed in a colorful skirt of cotton fabric that fell to his knobby knees, emerged to greet them. He was old and his hair, what little was left of it, was graying. Holding out his slender arms, he warmly welcomed Rafe with a nearly toothless smile.

  “My daughter!” Aroka cried piteously as he moved to Catt. Gripping her hands, he spoke in rapid pidgin Portuguese to her.

  Catt looked at Rafe as she held the old man’s hands. Aroka’s small, pinched features were bathed in tears as he cried out. Because of her own vulnerable state, Catt had no defense against the old man’s weeping.

  Ty stood off to one side. His gaze swept the area. Was Black Dawn around? In the distance, he saw a number of dead dogs lying at the outskirts of the village, and even from here, he could see large, bloody ulcers across their matted coats. Anthrax? He thought so. He and the rest of the team had come into the village wearing long-sleeved, white cotton shirts to protect themselves from infection. The latex gloves he wore made his hands and fingers sweat in the morning humidity and rising heat. The mask hung around his neck. Catt had given orders that as they went into the huts to help the sick and dying, their masks had to be worn at all times. Outside, they could take them off temporarily.

  Rafe’s words brought Ty’s attention back to the group before him. “Chief Aroka says his daughter, Mandei, who is five months pregnant, got sick two days ago. He’s begging you to help her, Catt. He says that she carries the heir to the village, that you must save her and her baby. If you save her, he will do anything—anything—to reward you.”

  Ty watched Catt’s face and was startled by the change in her. Gone was the warrior, gone the bitterness and the assertiveness he’d seen in her since meeting her on the dock at Manaus. Her face softened completely. Her eyes grew gentle with compassion. She placed her hand protectively over the chief’s gnarled ones.

  “Chief Aroka, my team and I will do everything in our power to save not only your daughter, but the rest of your people. Our only reward is to help those who are sick to get well. If you can assist us by bringing in water and boiling it, and aiding my team, that is all I ask of you.” She choked back tears at the desperation she saw in the man’s dark eyes.

  Rafe translated. He gestured to her team. “Doctor, I think everyone knows what they must do.” He turned to Ty. “You and I are the only ones who know Portuguese fluently. I would suggest Maria will be needed to draw blood and prepare tissue samples from those who are ill. I can go with the rest of the team as a translator. Ty, will you accompany Dr. Alborak on her rounds?”

  Catt’s lips parted. She started to protest. Then she saw the dark expression on Ty’s face. Her intuition told her that Ty and Rafe had made this agreement beforehand, although she couldn’t prove it. “No—I—”

  “I’ll help her out,” Ty said in an unruffled tone.

  Rafe nodded. “Good.” He lifted his hand to the waiting team. “Come on, I’ll show you those who are in the worst condition first. Dr. Alborak, I think the chief needs your help?”

  Ty moved forwa
rd and picked up her physician’s bag, which was wrapped in protective plastic. Cupping his hand beneath her elbow, he spoke to Chief Aroka. “Just lead the way to your daughter, Chief, and we’ll follow.”

  “Yes, yes! You must hurry. She is very ill. Please, this way,” he said, hurrying in front of them.

  Catt felt Ty’s firm hand on her elbow. She was too tired, too weary, to object. Whatever energy she had left from a nearly sleepless night she had to devote to the Juma today. And she couldn’t deny that her heart contracted with joy as Ty moved solidly to her side. He made her feel stronger despite her distrust of him and his intentions.

  The hut was dark and airless as Catt moved into the depths of it after fixing her mask in place. She saw that the windows had been covered with heavy cloths.

  “Ask Chief Aroka to open up this place. She needs light and fresh air in here for starters.” Catt wrinkled her nose at the sickly, rotten smell. The odor reminded her of a three-day roadkill someone might find on the side of the highway beneath a hot, blistering sun. How many times in the past had Catt inhaled the all-too-familiar odor of death? Her heart beat a little faster as Ty left her side. As soon as the cloths were removed from the three windows, the light revealed a young woman in her twenties lying on a pallet composed of drying palm fronds and covered with a faded pink-and-white cotton fabric, which was damp from her perspiration. The pallet lay in the center of the hut on a floor of hard-packed earth, with woven grass mats placed across the expanse.

  “Have the chief change the palm leaves, too. And ask him to get another piece of cloth beneath her after we leave.” She pointed to the material. “It should be changed every day. Tell him that the cloth needs to be soaped, beaten and cleaned with the bleach we brought with us. Otherwise, germs will spread.”