“What are we going to do for the next hour, lover?” Krysty glanced around the over elegant room. “There’s a big bowl of complimentary fruit and a bottle of wine. Could make a start on that.”
Ryan looked across at her, smiling at the sheer beauty of the shafts of sunlight spearing through the louvered windows, setting fire to Krysty’s blazing red hair.
“Got a better idea,” he said quietly, walking and turning the key in the lock.
“Sure you’re up to it? Still probably weak from your time down the river, lover.”
He shook his head. “Best kind of medicine I ever heard of. Shall I pull the drapes?”
Krysty was already sitting on the bed, tugging off her blue-and-silver Western boots, letting them clunk on the carpet. “No, leave it. Nice to have both some light and some privacy.”
THEY MADE LOVE TWICE in the idle hour.
The first time was urgent, clawing at each other, Ryan driving down with all his strength, making her moan with delight. She kissed him, an arm locking him to her, her tongue piercing between his lips. Her fingers dug into his back, making him buck with the delicious pain.
The second time was slower, more studied, with both of them taking time to offer pleasure with lips and tongues, sucking and licking, tasting sweat, tangling, hair matted.
They lay pressed together like spoons in a drawer, feeling the gentle rocking of the boat, the background of the rumbling wheel, pushing them upstream at a surprisingly fast rate. Ryan glanced out the window, seeing a wooded shore drifting by.
He was firmly inside Krysty, from behind, arms around her, cradling her superb breasts, face buried in her nape, her sentient hair seeming to caress his skin.
“Good,” he whispered.
She nodded, voice muffled by the pillow. “Very good, lover. Time out of war for us. Think we all need a break from the running and the chilling.”
He began to move slowly, her buttocks firm against his thighs, feeling a slight discomfort from the recurrent wound in his leg, though it was almost healed again.
Krysty was easing against him now, sighing, green eyes closed.
They worked together in unison, feeling each other’s need, knowing when to hold back and when to give, coming together at the same moment that the ship’s whistle gave out a long blast. They broke into laughter, hugging each other tight.
They heard a megaphoned message from the passage outside. “Decks clear now, folks. All welcome in all parts of the Golden Eagle . And gaming’s begun.”
“Gaming’s just finished here,” Ryan joked, peeling himself reluctantly away from Krysty, feeling the coolness of perspiration already beginning to dry on his own skin. “Time for a quick shower, then we can go explore.”
“I’m after you with the shower,” Krysty said, lying back on the bed, pulling the top sheet over herself.
The water was warm, the complimentary bar of soap heavily jasmine scented, and Ryan scrubbed at himself, getting rid of dirt, some of which he suspected might still have come from his time with Paddy Maxwell. The foaming water began gray but quickly became cleaner, and he was soon out, drying himself on one of a pair of large, fluffy white towels.
Krysty followed Ryan, offering a swift peck on his damp cheek as she bustled by.
Ryan dressed, standing by the window of their cabin, staring vaguely out at the banks of the Sippi. He looked up at the sound of someone walking heavily on the floor above him, in the guarded stateroom. It struck him in passing that the walker must be a big man to make so much noise.
Then Krysty appeared, drying herself, and he forgot about their neighbor above.
He buckled on the gun belt, with the SIG-Sauer matched by the weight of the panga on the other hip.
“Ready?”
“Nearly, lover. Go see if the others are ready, and we can go look around.”
“Sure. And start some real relaxing.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Golden Eagle was something else.
The six friends walked around her together during the long, sunny morning, their shadows thrown sharp and hard on the scrubbed deck. The wind was from the north, in their faces as they stood in the bow, leaning into the fresh breeze that was exaggerated by the speed of the boat.
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