The Willfully Wedded Virgin (Beyond Fairytales) Read online

  He plunged his knife into the beast’s stomach and ripped it open, spilling the guts onto the ground. Elizabeth turned her face away from the carnage as Alexander glanced at her father. “I told you it would be a bad idea to bring her along. Women don’t belong on expeditions. They are incapable of handling situations like this.”

  “Well, that’s why I hired you, Mr. Davidson, to make sure nothing happens to her. I’ll ensure she stays in camp going forward, but don’t forget for a second what your duties to me as your employer are.”

  “You should send her to California on the first train out of here. You didn’t hire me as a nanny, Mr. Dodge. I told you she’d be trouble.”

  Nanny? Trouble? Yes, she’d just about become kitty food, but he had no right to admonish her or insinuate she needed to be watched like a child. He wasn’t her husband or father. She felt foolish enough already. Elizabeth turned around and glared at the man she’d considered prime spousal material only hours before. “Let me make something clear, Mr. Davidson. I’m aware what that beast is and that I shouldn’t have wandered off after dark without a gun, but I assure you, I’m not a little girl, and I most certainly won’t tolerate you treating me like one.” She pointed at the cat. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it cooks up tasty, too.”

  “No, but it might have thought you delicious.” He made several cuts and began to separate the hide from the carcass. “The pelt is valuable, so I’ll take that. You need not stick around unless you want to help. I suggest you return to camp with your father before something else gets a mind to eat you.” The last bit he’d said whilst staring at her chest. Clearly not only the cat thought she’d make a good meal.

  Elizabeth stiffened her spine and climbed to her feet, dusting her skirt off. She cast Alexander one last nasty look and started toward her father, who held up a hurricane lamp. “Insufferable….” Bastard. And she’d wanted him to ask for her hand in marriage? Gah! Forget it. She could live with a bore, but a condescending arse? Never. She opened her mouth to spew out the unladylike words sitting on the tip of her tongue and caught her father’s stern expression, realizing Alexander had nearly driven her to sink to his level. Not worth it.

  “One more word, Elizabeth, and I’m taking his advice and sending you to the train station with a guide and instructions to ship you out to San Francisco to my sister’s estate. I’d think you’d be a bit more gracious to a man who just saved your life.”

  She snapped her teeth shut with an irritated click and caught something else in her silence she’d otherwise have missed in her tirade.

  Thump, thump, thump….

  In the distance, a song floated on the wind. “Do you hear that?” She froze in place, focusing on the sound.

  “Hear what?”

  “That melody?”

  “I don’t hear anything but the frogs and insects.”

  She tilted her head to listen, but only silence met her. “That song. It played for a few moments. You didn’t hear it?”

  “Don’t change the subject, Elizabeth. We are going to have this discussion. You nearly got yourself killed.”

  “I’m not changing…. Ooooh, would you stop for one moment and just listen. I heard it. Some kind of drum beat, and I can’t identify the other instruments. Screaming, not singing really, but screaming.”

  “Now I know you should get some rest. The last thing we need is a hysterical female on this venture. It’s most likely monkeys you heard.”

  “No. I know what monkeys sound like, thank you.”

  “Perhaps headhunters,” Alexander said from behind her as the smell of fresh blood from his kill wafted toward her.

  She lifted her hand to her nose and used her finger to block her nostrils. She held her father’s gaze. “I know what I heard, and it wasn’t headhunters, Mr. Davidson.”

  Ah, but Alexander wasn’t to be deterred. He leaned in, nearly pressing his lips to her ear. Not only would her father disapprove, but the man was entering her personal space uninvited, something she greatly despised. “Are you sure, Elizabeth?”

  “Yes.” Her father frowned, clearly not liking it any more than she did. Elizabeth curled her hands into fists and stepped away from him.

  “Several tribes are rumored to be down here, and your lovely face and hair would make quite the trophy.”

  “Preposterous.” Elizabeth whipped around and glared. “I’m not a prize just to the headhunters, I’m sure. Good evening, Mr. Davidson.” She walked past her father, whose mouth hung agape, and headed toward the camp.

  For once, Henry Dodge had nothing to say, and a good thing he found himself speechless. She would not have been able to hold her tongue further and would be on the first train come sunrise had she said one more word.

  Elizabeth Dodge was no man’s trophy.

  ***

  Will couldn’t get a signal out on his satellite phone, but he hadn’t expected to, not underground in the middle of the Peruvian jungle. But hey, at least he had enough battery left to play some music. Yelling got him nowhere, so likely nobody would hear the music either. The reason he cranked it was simple. He focused better while listening to his tunes. He even did it while investigating crime scenes, and, well, he had to do something other than sit on his ass.

  He spun around and did a little air guitar riff, singing along with the music, totally owning the song, which was about the only thing he could do with his phone since he had never indulged in the time-wasting games fellow agents had become addicted to.

  What did they call that one with the bird and pipes?

  For once, he wished he had at least downloaded solitaire. If dehydration and starvation didn’t get him first, he’d die of boredom. The song changed. He stopped singing and walked the borders of his cell, searching for any hint of a path to freedom. How many rounds have I made?

  Too damn many.

  He slapped his palms against the crystal wall again, this time banging his forehead into it. Maybe he should search the body better? The dead man got in here somehow and, more importantly, whoever killed him had gotten out. Will studied the mummy. Couldn’t hurt. Well, with the exception of breathing in bacteria that could get him killed. He snorted out a laugh. Get me killed. Good one.

  He stooped down next to the body and began to rifle through the corpse’s clothing again, searching for who knew what. He’d already examined it once. What did he expect to find? When he tugged on a boot, a small journal fell out. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been as thorough as thought. Will brushed off the leather cover and opened it. The pages cracked, but remained intact. His gaze fell to…. He grabbed his phone and beamed light at the surface. A map. He flipped to the next page to see drawings of Incan glyphs. The notes stated that they repeated in several locations and that the clue to the location of the city lay in following the route with the same name—or pattern.

  The writer of the journal went on to say the pictographs represented a major roadway into the golden city, and that the first marker sat at a time portal in the City of Souls—where he now found himself stuck. The symbol—a grinning skull. Should have known.

  “Time portal, hunh?” He squinted and reread the script. That’s what it said. What would a turn-of-the-century explorer know about time travel? But what else could they mean? Still….

  When he took in the floor from his new perspective, the situation got even stranger. What could only be described as two Incans stepping through a doorway and onto another planet embellished the tile below him. And he only knew it was another world because of the rocket ship. That, or he’d gotten brain damage from the gas.

  Will knelt and dusted off the glyphs carved into the tiles. No, that was a rocket. Could the crystal be some kind of conductor? But for what? A doorway to another dimension?

  Hogwash. Maybe on television, but, in reality, portals to other worlds didn’t exist even if you had a blue phone booth.

  He held his phone over the floor, lighting the glyphs up as he brushed with his fingertips, uncovering more. He grab
bed the cowboy hat from the dead man and swept away debris, speeding up the process. From one side of the room to the other, glyphs covered the surface. It could take him days to uncover them all, and even more time to find the repeating design, certainly the way to spring the lock open on the trap. He sure didn’t believe in portals, but hidden doorways were another matter. If he’d stumbled onto a way in, there’d be a way out.

  Chapter Three

  July 1905, First night of the expedition, close to midnight….

  The strange music played again, in concert with her father’s snoring. Elizabeth rolled to her side to stare at where a man sat guard at the entrance to their tent, in case any other wildlife decided to grab something convenient to eat.

  After the way Alexander had leered at her earlier, her father had opted to change babysitters to keep her safe from what prowled in the jungle, or perhaps he had placed the guard there to keep her in the tent. Henry Dodge seemed to have caught on to Davidson’s innuendos, too, not liking them a bit and ordering her to keep her distance. Whatever her father’s reason for the guard, the man wouldn’t prove to be much of a barrier. She turned to study the partition that served as a privacy screen between her father’s sleeping area and hers. He wouldn’t be an obstacle either. Henry Dodge slept like the dead.

  But he wasn’t the only one. The guard’s silhouette showed through the canvas, and it didn’t take a genius to notice he’d fallen asleep at his station. Her father wasn’t the only one who sounded like a wild boar. She turned in the other direction to see her father’s togs, fresh clothing laid out for the morning, draped over a chest at the end of the privacy screen. She crawled over and snagged the garments.

  Quietly, she slipped on the trousers then wiggled her shift off and tugged her father’s shirt on, buttoning both garments.

  The pants were a little long, but they fit fine, if a bit snugly. Men’s hips weren’t made for childbirth, and the pants hadn’t been created with women in mind. They’d have to do. She sure didn’t plan to go off in search of the source of the odd song in full skirt and corset.

  Her father would swallow his tongue if he saw her. What he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. She pulled her boots on over the pant legs, gritting her teeth when the blisters on her toes objected, tucked her derringer in the back of her britches, and crawled across the tent past the entrance. She lifted the canvas and scooted underneath.

  Off to the side of the tent sat a box of lanterns. Grabbing a hurricane lamp and a box of matches, she lifted the cover and lit it, cranking the wick down until it barely glowed. Peeking around the tent, Elizabeth noted that the guard still slept, his chin to his chest, his snores competing with her father’s. Yanking her tiny pistol out in case she encountered another hungry cat, she crept into the jungle, following the drums.

  It didn’t take her long to stumble onto an old stone trail already beginning to climb in altitude, the way so worn from foot traffic that plants failed to grow anywhere across its surface. The farther up she went, the more the jungle thinned and the moonlight shone. The music, a sound unlike any she’d heard before, grew louder with each step.

  Not music really, but, rather, a horrible racket. Even the animals seemed displeased with it. Birds took flight in the opposite direction, and monkeys crashed through the treetops in an attempt to avoid it. Could they know something she didn’t?

  After about ten minutes, the music began to fade. Turning around, she reversed course, thinking she might have passed it, and slammed hard against Alexander’s muscular torso. She yelped in surprise and dropped the lantern. His arm circled her waist, and he pulled her in tight.

  “Hello, Lizzy. What are you doing out here all alone?” His lips descended on hers.

  Still angry about the way he’d treated her over the giant rat and then the jaguar, she shoved against his chest with the flat of her palms, but couldn’t break his hold. A twist of her head, and she freed herself from his kiss. “You take too many liberties. Let me go, Alexander.”

  “You’ve never objected before.” He nipped the corner of her mouth. “I think the lady protests too much.” His hand slid lower to her ass, palming a cheek. “Are you naked beneath these togs?”

  Her cheeks flamed hot. “That is not a very gentlemanly question to ask a lady.”

  He smiled. “I never claimed to be a gentleman, and a lady wouldn’t sneak off into the jungle wearing nothing but a pair of britches and thin cotton shirt. What would your father say?”

  Elizabeth planted her hands on his chest and shoved again, finally escaping his grasp. “My father isn’t going to know.”

  “What’s to stop me from telling him what you’ve been doing?” He raised a brow.

  “If you see yourself as my future husband, you won’t say anything.” Not that she had any intention of marrying him, but he still coveted the advantage a marriage into her family would bring, especially since she was an only child.

  “And what guarantee do I have that he’ll even allow me your hand? No. I think if you were pregnant or your virtue compromised…perhaps.” He studied her, a wicked smile creeping onto his face.

  “You certainly are not insinuating—”

  “Not insinuating anything, dear. I can go further to say you’ll be on the first train to the States if he somehow discovers you’ve been sneaking out at night. Unless you can give me something in return for keeping mum about this….” He ran his fingers down her cheek to her collarbone, popping open the first button on her shirt. “How badly do you want to stay?”

  Elizabeth slapped his hand away. “I’m not that kind of woman.”

  “I’ve had my hands on places no lady would allow a man to touch unless, of course, she’d married him. You and I both know what kind of woman you are. It’s only a matter of time before I have you on your back. You’ll save me a lot of trouble if you’ll just lie down and spread those pretty knees. However it happens, I’m going to get what I want—your daddy’s fortune and you. What’s it going to be? Do you really want to leave?” Alexander captured her wrist and tugged her into his arms. “You were meant to be mine, anyway.”

  “Let go of me!”

  “You don’t want me to release you. I know a wanton woman when I kiss her. You might claim to have high and mighty morals, dear, but your body speaks otherwise. I know what you want, and you can feign fighting if it settles your conscience, but I’m done with your teasing. Daddy isn’t here to save you.”

  Could she fight him? Alexander had more muscle and stature, but she’d seen grown men fall when hit in a particular area….

  Elizabeth brought her knee up and made introductions with his male bits. Alexander dropped like a stone, gasping for air. “That should make it clear. I feign nothing.”

  “You bitch,” he groaned and curled into the fetal position.

  Not waiting to see if he would recover, Elizabeth bolted, leaving the lamp she’d dropped as she flew over his prone body. His threat had been too real. If she stuck around, he’d make good on his promise and more than likely punish her for what she’d done. She ran as fast as her feet would take her back to the tent and safety. Tomorrow, she would search again for the source of the strange song.

  ***

  Will paused and shut the volume on his cell phone off. He tipped his head against the wall, listening carefully.

  “Let go of me!” a woman warned.

  “You don’t want me to release you.” A man’s voice.

  He launched to his feet. “Hey! Is someone out there? I’m trapped. Help!” He pounded on the wall. When he paused to listen again, the voices had gone silent. “Hey! Can anyone hear me?”

  A miracle anyone had walked close enough to hear, and they spoke English, but they weren’t American. They both had British accents. The couple appeared embroiled in a fight, but that didn’t matters. Help was help. He couldn’t let them get away.

  Will slapped the wall. “Help!” he called out as loud as he could over and over, beating the barrier until his hands went numb
and his voice became raw. After what seemed like forever, he punched the hard surface.

  “Shit.” Shaking his hand, he hopped up and down. “Fuck!” He kicked the wall and beat his forehead into it. “Anyone!” If he could hear them, they had to have heard him unless they were too preoccupied with their argument to take notice. He dropped to his knees, tipped his head to look at the ceiling, and yelled, “Help me!”

  Will grabbed his phone, cranked the music, and called out as loud as he could until he went hoarse.

  ***

  Alexander had proven himself not to be the honorable man she’d once thought. No way would she seek marriage with him now, or ever, even if he were the last available man, but neither could she tell her father what had transpired. That would buy her a sure ticket out of here. Alexander knew it, but she’d also bet he didn’t want her going anywhere, not until he got what he’d so clearly stated he wanted. Which would not happen.

  She would need to be careful never to be left alone with him. As the light from her discarded oil lamp faded, Elizabeth once again found herself in the dark and alone. She slipped her hand into her pocket and curled her fingers around the gun. Stepping into cover, she crouched and waited for Alexander to pass. This time, she would follow him—hopefully, back to camp.

  He didn’t take long to arrive at her hiding spot. A small stone, knocked loose from movement on the trail above, bounced down the slope and off the trail not a meter from her. Elizabeth dropped to her belly and held her breath, praying he didn’t look in her direction. She didn’t dare move her head, but watched his boots while he made his way down the path to the spot directly in front of her hiding place.

  Then he stopped, lifting the lantern. Something skittered across the trail farther down, and Alexander took off, moving toward the sound. As the light from the lantern faded, she let out her breath, grateful for whatever varmint had lured him away. If he’d stood there any longer, he most likely would have found her.