ONE

“IT WILL BE dangerous, Miss Clavel,” Paco said gravely. “I won’t lie to you. You could be raped or tortured, even killed.”

Lara Clavel tried to hide her shiver of fear from Paco Renalto’s keen gaze. In the short time she had been in the major’s tent, she had learned that there was a great deal more to Renalto than elfin features and an air of insouciance. He had a sharp, probing intelligence. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He couldn’t have risen to be Ricardo Lázaro’s second in command with only puckish charm to recommend him. She forced a smile. “I really wish you wouldn’t tell me about all these dire things that could happen. I’m scared enough already.”

“You have to be warned. Ricardo wouldn’t permit you to go into such a dangerous situation without your knowing full well what it might cost you. I can’t either.”

“Not even to save the leader of your great revolution?” Lara’s tone was deliberately flippant.

“Not even then.” A sudden smile lit Paco Renalto’s face. “You cannot choose without knowing the facts, and that’s what this revolution is all about. Ricardo wouldn’t thank me for discarding those principles just to save his life.”

“No? I find that hard to believe. Self-preservation is the first law of nature.”

“Some things are worth dying for.” Paco paused. “And so are some people. I’d give my life for Ricardo Lázaro.”

And so would a hundred thousand other revolutionaries on this blasted island in the Caribbean, Lara thought wearily. The man seemed capable of hypnotizing everyone who came in contact with him. Lázaro was not only a brilliant military strategist, but the most charismatic of leaders, and the war he had waged against the Communist junta on Saint Pierre had made headlines around the world for the last nine years. It wasn’t often a figure as dashing as Lázaro came on the scene, and the media had made the most of every opportunity to capitalize on the general’s magnetism. Five years ago Lázaro had smuggled his book Right to Choose out of Saint Pierre and it had become a worldwide bestseller acclaimed both for its philosophy and for its poetic style. A poet and a warrior. How was anyone supposed to fight against a combination like that? She just wished Brett hadn’t been one of those thousands to fall under his spell. She looked intently into Paco Renalto’s eyes. “Yet you caution me against risking my own life for the man.”

“You’re not one of us. You’re an American and you’ve told me yourself you have no sympathy for our cause.” Paco leaned back in his camp chair. “I’ve been with Ricardo since we were students together at the university. He’s closer than a brother to me.”

Brett had been with the revolutionaries for only six months and he expressed the same kind of loyalty to Lázaro—loyalty that had landed him in a wheelchair in a clinic in Barbados. “I don’t have to be one of Ricardo Lázaro’s so-called adorers to help him escape from prison. You said yourself that the fact I’m not a citizen of Saint Pierre is in my favor. The junta’s secret police has no record or fingerprints on file for me.”

“True.” Paco gazed at her thoughtfully. “We could falsify your documents to make sure you appear to be a vulnerable target to Jurado.”

“Jurado?”

“Captain Emilio Jurado. He commands the security police at the Abbey. You’ve heard of the Abbey?”

“Yes.” Everyone in the world knew of the security prison known as the Abbey. Formerly a religious monastery, it had been converted into one of the most horrendous political prisons in the world. Human rights organizations were constantly condemning the atrocities reported to take place there.

“That’s where they’re keeping Ricardo. He’s been there for over five months.”

Lara flinched and her grasp tightened on the wooden arms of her chair. She should have known they’d keep a prisoner of Lázaro’s importance at that hellish place. Dear heaven, what was she doing sitting there in the middle of a military stronghold trying to talk Renalto into letting her help free Lázaro? She wasn’t one of those tough guerrilla women she had seen as she had been led through the camp. She hated even the thought of war. “I’m surprised that Lázaro’s still alive if he’s been at the Abbey that long.”

“They stopped torturing him after the first few weeks. They knew he wouldn’t break and they didn’t want to make a martyr of Ricardo by killing him.” Paco’s lips tightened grimly. “However, they still hope to damage his image by forcing him to betray us. Jurado’s been coming at him from another angle for the last month.”

What kind of man could withstand weeks of torture inflicted by men more sophisticated in the art of cruelty than the priests of the Spanish Inquisition, Lara wondered. “How do you know all this?”

“We have a man at the Abbey. He’s one of Jurado’s officers. We couldn’t get him in the cell block, but he works in Jurado’s office and is occasionally able to exert a certain influence.” Paco looked down at the papers on his desk. “Why are you willing to help us, Miss Clavel?”

“Lara,” she corrected. “And I told you why.”

He nodded. “I knew your brother well. He’s a brave man.”

“He’s an idealistic idiot who fell under Lázaro’s spell like all the rest of you,” she said bluntly. “And look where it got him.”

“And you don’t consider yourself an idealist?”

“Of course not. I’m as hardheaded as they come. The only reason I’m here is that I know the moment they release my brother from the hospital he’ll be back here on this godforsaken island trying to rescue Lázaro from that prison.” She gestured impatiently. “The doctors say he needs another six months of outpatient therapy, but there’s no way he’ll do it. If I don’t get Lázaro out of prison before he’s released, he’ll be hobbling down here on crutches.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

She was silent a moment longer before she admitted reluctantly, “I owe Ricardo Lázaro. My brother told me your fearless leader was captured because he led the team that rescued Brett’s platoon when they were overrun by the enemy.”

“That’s true.” Paco smiled faintly. “But Ricardo saved many American lives that night, and the members of those men’s families didn’t come rushing down to save his neck.”

“I pay my debts.” She met his gaze. “Will you use me or not?”

He gazed at her a long moment. “I don’t like it.”

“But you’ll do it?”

“Yes.” Paco’s smile faded. “The war has come to a standstill without Ricardo. We need someone in that prison, and getting a woman in will be far easier, according to what our man at the Abbey tells us.” He shrugged. “As I said, I don’t like it, but for the good of Saint Pierre we’re forced into many decisions we don’t like.”

“The good of Saint Pierre or the good of Ricardo Lázaro?”

“Ricardo Lázaro is Saint Pierre.” For an instant Renalto’s face was illuminated with the same expression Lara had seen on her brother’s face when he had spoken of Lázaro. “You’ll realize that when you meet him.”

“If I don’t get killed first,” she said lightly.

Paco didn’t smile.

“I was joking.”

“I know. You’re frightened and you think to hide it with laughter.”

“I’m not frightened. I’m just—” She broke off as she met his gaze. “Well, perhaps a little.”

“It’s all right to be frightened.” Paco leaned forward and gently covered her hand with his own. “We’ll do all we can to protect you. If it’s any comfort to you, Ricardo is worth any risk.”

She moistened her dry lips with her tongue. “I’m not sure anyone is worth this kind of risk. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Brett inherited all the swashbuckler qualities in the family. I’m not at all brave.”

“No?” He smiled curiously. “It wasn’t easy for you to come to a war-torn country like Saint Pierre, and it must have been even harder to find someone to bring you to me. Perhaps you’re braver than you think.”

She shook her head. “I’m only doing what I have to do. There’s nothing brave about that.” She straightened her shoulders and continued briskly, “Now, tell me what I have to do to get Lázaro out of that prison.”

“You won’t like it.” His gaze focused soberly on her face. “And you’ll have to do it alone. If you told Ricardo what we’re planning, he wouldn’t let you make—”

“Dear me, are you taking away Lázaro’s ‘right to choose’?” she asked with a touch of mockery.

“Yes, and he’ll curse me for it.” He shook his head wearily. “But we need him.”

“Then stop warning me and tell me how to get your god out of the Abbey.”

“Ricardo isn’t a—” He stopped and shrugged. “Ricardo has to be experienced. You’ll see.”

There was no question of that fact, Lara thought grimly. If Renalto’s plan worked, she was sure she would see considerably more of Ricardo Lázaro than would make her comfortable.

The woman was barefoot.

Ricardo Lázaro’s hands tightened on the bars of the window as he watched Jurado propel the woman across the courtyard from the direction of his office. It was close to noon and the flagstones must have been burning hot beneath the soles of the woman’s small feet. Why the hell hadn’t the bastard given her shoes to wear?

Lord, he had been here too long. Why was he worrying about the woman’s lack of shoes when she would soon probably be suffering far more pain? Jurado seldom gave a prisoner his august personal attention unless there was information to be extracted.

The woman looked to be little more than a child, he thought with compassion, small and fine-boned with long fair hair of a shade somewhere between tan and gold. Jurado’s goon squad must have torn her from her bed, for she wore only a loose white cotton-gauze gown with a high round neck that buttoned down the front.

She wore nothing beneath the gown.

And she wasn’t a child.

As she drew closer, he could see the generous swell of her breasts pressing against the bodice of the gown and glimpsed the dark pink of her nipples through the sheer cotton gauze. The blood rushed to his groin in an arousal as involuntary as it was primitive. He closed his eyes so that he could no longer see her. Self-disgust poured through him, and his hands tightened on the bars as he struggled to subdue his physical response. He was no mindless animal to lust after Jurado’s prisoner. He should be feeling only sympathy and anger for the poor woman.

He opened his eyes and the lust was still there.

She was a woman of gold, he mused. Her skin was a rich honey shade, glowing with silky health. She walked with a springy grace that caused the gauzy gown to flow sensually around her hips, revealing the dark shadow of her womanhood. His gaze lingered on that shadow in helpless fascination as he felt the thick throb in his loins intensify until it became pain. Jurado had almost reached the door of the cell block and she stood in the courtyard, only yards away from Ricardo. He saw her hesitate, tense, brace herself as the door of the block swung open. She was very frightened.

Suddenly the lust dominating Ricardo was joined by another sensation just as powerful. He felt an agonizing need to protect her from what she had to face beyond that door.

Jurado pushed her inside the cell block and the door closed behind them.

Ricardo’s teeth clenched in frustration. Control. The isolation he had suffered had made every reaction and emotion painfully sharp. He couldn’t let himself be torn apart like this or Jurado would win. He wouldn’t have survived physical torture only to be defeated in the psychological battle the captain was now waging.

He heard the sound of boots on the flagstones of the hall and unconsciously tensed. No other prisoner occupied this section of the block and he knew those steps. He had come to recognize them, wait for them, during those endless weeks of torture. Jurado was bringing the woman here.

He should have guessed Jurado’s purpose, but this woman didn’t have the voluptuous appeal of the others the captain had chosen. Yet, as he remembered the sensual delicacy of her body, he felt again a stirring he knew Jurado would notice if he turned away from the window to face him.

“I have something for you, Lázaro.” The door swung open behind him and he heard Jurado thrust the woman forward into the cell. “A pretty little pullet to while away the long hours. Turn around and look at her.”

Ricardo’s spine stiffened, but he didn’t move. His senses were so acutely aroused that even across the wide space separating them he could hear the light, rapid sound of her breathing and could catch her heady, sweet fragrance. With effort he kept his tone light and mocking. “Again, Jurado? I should think you’d give up. Do you consider the third time lucky?”

“Ah, but this one is different. I admit I made a mistake in judgment before. I should have known those other whores would never tempt a man of your discrimination. I thought their extraordinary talents might be an inducement that would make you overlook—”

“You’re wasting your time. I don’t need a woman.”

“Oh, but you do.” Jurado must have pushed the woman forward because her scent was stronger. “Though your followers claim you have superhuman powers of self-control and self-discipline, you’re a man like any other. A very earthy man. Our informants tell us you generally require a woman several times a week.” He added softly, “And it’s been more than five months, Lázaro.”

“I really didn’t notice.” Ricardo’s lips twisted sardonically. “You’ve made every moment of my stay here at the Abbey so very entertaining.”

“We need to know the location of your arms cache.” Jurado shrugged. “We didn’t think torture would break you, but we had to try.”

“And you enjoyed every minute of it.”

“Of course. You’ve evaded us for over eight years. By the time we captured you, I had a great deal of frustration to release. Frustration is a terrible thing, isn’t it, Lázaro? And sexual frustration is more terrible than any other for a man. Now turn around and look at her. She’s clean and pretty and her hair shines like sunlight.”

Ricardo released the bars and carefully kept his gaze from the woman as he slowly turned to face Jurado. “And no doubt you found her in the same bordello as you did the others.”

“No, this one’s a prisoner, just like you.” Jurado touched the shining wing of hair at the woman’s temple. “Her name’s Lara Albert. She was picked up at the airport trying to leave the country with several thousand dollars in our currency. She said no one told her our currency was not allowed out of Saint Pierre.” He added in English, “Say hello to the gentleman, Lara.”

The woman remained silent.

Again in English he asked, “Don’t you wish to greet the great hero of the revolution? How rude of you, my dear.” Jurado gently stroked her hair back from her face. “You’ll have to teach her better manners, Lázaro.”

Ricardo felt a sudden fierce surge of rage as he saw Jurado’s hand stroking her. Lord, what was wrong with him? He carefully masked his expression. “You don’t need trouble with the United States. Let her go.”

“Actually, we were considering releasing her before I realized how valuable she could be. She was sent here to the Abbey until a decision could be made.” A smile lit his round, boyish face. “She’s only a secretary and her passport lists no next of kin. No one knows she’s been arrested. She offers us little diplomatic risk.”

“Why run any risk at all?”

Jurado ignored the question. “She’s entirely at your disposal, of course. Anything you wish to do to or with her is up to you. I’m afraid you’ll have to speak English with her to make your needs known. She understands very little Spanish.” He trailed off as his gaze locked with Ricardo’s. “She’s a virgin. Isn’t that remarkable in this day and age? Our physicians were quite startled during the examination they gave her when she was admitted to the Abbey this morning. Startled and stimulated. A man always likes to be first, and I had trouble keeping them off her. But one of my officers suggested she might be of value to us with you, and I knew at once that he was right.”

“No, he was wrong.”

Jurado shook his head. “You like Americans and you have the true soul of a knight. Obviously, such a man would be attracted to a helpless virgin. Why won’t you look at her? She’s a lovely little thing. Fine bones, pretty breasts, and that skin …” He sighed. “I truly envy you, Lázaro. Can’t you see she’s trembling with eagerness for the pleasure you can give her?”

Ricardo tried to keep his gaze from wandering toward the woman. “If she’s trembling, it’s from fear, and I’ve never found terror in a woman an aphrodisiac. Get her out of here.”

“Oh, no. She stays here with you,” Jurado said. “She’ll share your meals, your conversation, and your cot. I’ve always found propinquity to be a powerful spur.” His gaze moved to Ricardo’s lower body. “Particularly to a man in your state. I see the little one arouses you.”

The bastard. Ricardo felt a jolt of welcome anger that temporarily submerged the lust pounding through him. “So did your whores. It’s a natural response.” He smiled crookedly. “But I’ve learned to control my body. I have no intention of letting you gain a weapon to use on me. You might as well give up now, Jurado.”

Jurado turned and moved toward the door. “We shall see. I’ll give you time to change your mind.” He paused to look back over his shoulder. “But I admit I’m a little impatient. If you don’t follow your natural inclinations within a reasonable length of time, I’ll take her from you and give her to the guards to enjoy.” He smiled as he saw the flicker of anger on Ricardo’s face. “You see, I do understand you, Lázaro. You have the misfortune of being an idealist, a protector of the weak and the innocent. Well, I give you an innocent to protect and enjoy at one and the same time. What more could you ask?” His gaze shifted to Lara. “A gang rape isn’t pleasant, my dear. You’d better make yourself very appealing to our great liberator.” He slammed the door behind him and an instant later Ricardo heard the guard turn the key in the lock.

Ricardo turned back to the window and stared blindly out at the courtyard. Lord, he didn’t need this. His hands reached out and again grasped the bars at the window, the muscles of his upper arms distending as his grip tightened. He wanted to break something. He felt helpless and frustrated and as hot as a beardless adolescent in the first throes of passion.

He slowly forced his hands to relax on the bars. Nothing could be done about the situation and it would do no good to frighten the woman by a show of violence. She had probably gone through enough already at Jurado’s hands.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.” He gazed at Jurado strolling across the courtyard toward his office and thought how pleasant a sight it would be to see that small, dapper figure ignited by a flamethrower. “And evidently the junta’s pride and joy is giving you a reprieve from whatever he’d planned for you.”

“I notice you’re not saying I won’t have to worry after the reprieve.”

Her voice was low and faintly tremulous, and its femininity stroked and aroused him as much as that first sight of her. He felt the muscles of his stomach clench and then knot painfully. It was only sex, he told himself. Sex had nothing to do with his mind or emotions. A man of will and intelligence could subdue even that most powerful and primitive of urges. “I don’t believe in lying. Jurado will do what he likes with you. He’s commandant of the Abbey and uses gang rape frequently as an interrogation tool.” He kept his tone deliberately matter-of-fact. “I can’t stop him from hurting you, but I can show you ways to make the pain less. We have a little time and you can learn enough to—”

“Is that a microphone?”

He turned and followed her glance to the small black metal object mounted high on a shelf in the corner of the room.

“Yes, the Abbey isn’t sophisticated enough for video surveillance, but Jurado likes to make me feel the lack of privacy.” He raised his voice. “Don’t you, Jurado?”

“It’s terrible.” Her voice was shrill. “Everything here is hideous. How can they do this to me? I’m frightened and angry. I’m no whore to be—” She broke off. “And now you tell me they can hear us while we—” Her voice rose hysterically. “Well, I won’t have it. I won’t!” She ran across the room to the washbasin and grabbed the water pitcher. She slung it at the microphone, knocking the device from its shelf and splattering both it and the white stucco wall with water. The smashed microphone crackled and hissed as it dangled on its long cord.

“That won’t do any good,” Ricardo said gently. “They’ll just replace it.”

“Is that the only bug?”

“Yes, it’s not really a security device. Jurado only installed it to annoy me.” “Tape recorders?”

“No.”

“How long do we have?” Her voice was breathless, but no longer hysterical.

He slowly stiffened, his gaze narrowing on her face. “Jurado should be here in five minutes. Perhaps less.”

“The guards in the cell block?”

“They’ll wait for Jurado unless there’s a threat of escape. They know he likes to run the show.” She flew across the room toward him and spoke quickly in a whisper. “Paco Renalto.”

He repeated warily, “Paco?”

“He sent me to tell you they’ll be attacking the Abbey day after tomorrow. He wants you to be ready.”

“Ready? I’ve been ready for over five months.” Ricardo felt a leap of hope he quickly smothered. “You expect me to believe you? Jurado delivers you to my bed and suddenly I find you’re working for Paco?” He shook his head. “Not likely.”

“You’ve got to believe me. We don’t have much time.” Lara moistened her lips with her tongue and whispered, “Renalto said to mention the caverns.”

Ricardo’s hand automatically clapped across her lips. “Quiet!”

Lara turned her head to avoid his hand. “I won’t say any more about it. I don’t even know what it means. Renalto just said to use it as a password.”

Ricardo was thinking quickly. The Abbey had been breached before by frequent raids but not in the last few years. The grounds were now well guarded and enclosed by an electric wire fence, and even if the courtyard were reached, there were still problems. The Abbey was a one-story U-shaped building and the cells were all on the left side of the courtyard. He shook his head. “The cell block’s too well guarded for him to hit. There’s a machine gun mounted on the roof above Jurado’s office aimed at this side of the courtyard. How does he intend to—”

“How do I know?” Lara’s lashes quickly lowered to veil her eyes. “He just sent me here to tell you to be ready.”

“Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m here to help.” She laughed shakily. “Though at the moment I can’t think why. I never expected to playact as some kind of sacrificial virgin when I came to Saint Pierre. It’s not my style at all. I’ve always been very sensible and practical.” She tilted her head as she heard the sharp clatter of footsteps on the flagstones in the hall. “They’re coming. Tell me, do they give you pencil and paper?”

He shook his head. “And the only time we’ll be able to talk freely is when we’re taken to the showers. None of the guards or officers speak English except Jurado, but I never know when he’s listening.”

“Showers? When is that? Never mind, there’s no time.” She dashed across the cell, threw herself on the cot, and turned her face to the wall, curling up in fetal position just as Jurado burst into the cell followed by two guards.

Jurado’s cheeks were livid with fury as he looked down at Lara’s cringing form. “You disappoint me.” He strode to the cot, grabbed Lara’s arm, and jerked her to a sitting position on the cot. “No man likes an hysterical woman. Get hold of yourself.”

“I don’t want to be here.” Lara whimpered. “I can’t stay with him. I don’t know what to do. Can’t I—”

Jurado’s palm cracked against her cheek.

She cried out as her head snapped back from the force of the blow.

“That’s enough, Jurado.” Ricardo took an impulsive step forward, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Can’t you see she’s too frightened to know what she’s doing?”

“Then she’ll have to learn.” Jurado took a step back from Lara, and the annoyance disappeared from his demeanor as he saw Ricardo’s expression. He nodded approvingly. “It goes well. Your protective instincts are already aroused and you’ve barely met the girl. What will you feel after you’ve taken her to bed?” He motioned to the microphone one of the guards was examining. “How long will it take to fix that?”

“It will have to be replaced. I have to remove this one and then go to the storeroom and get another one.” The man shrugged. “Perhaps an hour.”

“Then do it. I have an idea we may hear some very erotic sounds coming from this cell in the next few days.” Jurado glanced back at Ricardo. “And then I’ll have you, Lázaro.”

Ricardo didn’t trust himself to speak. He should have remained silent when Jurado had struck her, but rage and possessiveness had risen like a red haze. Possessiveness? The thought sent a chill through him. “She means nothing to me,” he said without intonation. “Do what you wish with her.”

“I will.” Jurado strode toward the door. “And with you, my fine rebel.”

Lara forced herself to remain quiet until the guard disconnected the broken microphone and left the cell.

“What’s this all about?” She sat on the cot, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze on the rigid line of Ricardo’s spine. He had turned his back to her again and she could sense he was trying to distance himself from her, as he had done when she had entered the cell. “Oh, Renalto told me the reason he thought Jurado would throw us together, but I don’t understand it. Why does Jurado want us to—” She stopped and then started again, “I mean, I would guess that the junta doesn’t permit prisoners—”

“Sex?” He turned to face her and she found herself experiencing the same ripple of shock that had surged through her when she had first entered his cell. Ricardo Lázaro was different from what Lara had expected him to be. She had seen newspaper photos of him, but they had only depicted his classic good looks, the glossy dark hair with just a hint of curl, the glittering intensity of the ebony eyes. The pictures had failed to reveal the burning vitality, the air of controlled power he exuded. Ricardo’s hair flowed past his shoulders and his green army fatigues were faded, ragged, and hung loose on his six-foot frame. Yet the man stood arrow straight and the bearing of his slender, sinewy body was quietly indomitable. “Sex is only a tool for Jurado. He believes I’ll feel affection for a woman who shares my bed. He wants a weapon to use against me.”

“How?”

“Torture. Jurado didn’t succeed in getting the information he needs by torturing me, so he thinks to win the day by using someone else’s pain against me. It’s a common practice here to torture a man’s family before his eyes to make him break.” He smiled bitterly. “I wouldn’t follow his advice about making yourself appealing to me. It could prove very painful.”

“More painful than being gang-raped?”

“That would probably come first,” Ricardo said quietly. “With me forced to watch—if Jurado was convinced you meant something to me.”

She shivered. “I feel like a piece of meat in a butcher shop.” Both the words and the shiver were genuine. What kind of world bred men like Jurado who used human beings as pawns? “I’m no side of beef and I’m no harem girl, and I hate being treated like either one. I’ll make damn sure you don’t find me attractive, even if I have to make a eunuch of you.”

A slow smile lit his hard face with surprising sweetness. “That’s the spirit.” He grimaced ruefully. “Though I’d appreciate you not being so enthusiastic about ridding me of that particular body part.” He moved across the cell toward her. “Your cheek is bruised.” His palm moved caressingly on the soft marked flesh and she felt a sudden hot tingle explode through her body. “I’ve already caused you pain. I’m sorry, Lara.”

Jurado had said Ricardo Lázaro was an earthy man, and now she could see that earthiness in his expression—the sensual heaviness of his lower lip, the flush that mantled his lean cheeks, the rapid drumming of the pulse in the hollow of his strong brown throat. She found herself unable to look away from that throbbing betrayal.

Her voice sounded oddly breathless even to her own ears. “It … doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“No?” His fingers lingered on her flesh, his gaze holding her own. The air in the cell seemed to become heavier and charged with electricity. She couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t look away. She felt as if she were waiting for a storm to break.

“That’s good.” His hand dropped away from her cheek. “I wish I could say I could keep away any pain that might hurt you, but I can’t do that, Lara. I can’t betray—” He broke off and drew a deep breath. “If something goes wrong, I can’t let your pain matter to me.”

“I know that.” At last she managed to tear her gaze away from him. “And I have no intention of allowing myself to be hurt by that greasy pig. Paco Renalto and the rest of your army may be fanatics, but I’ve absolutely no inclination toward martyrdom.”

His gravity vanished and his lips twitched with suppressed humor. “Then may I suggest you’ve definitely involved yourself in the wrong situation? Why the devil are you here?”

“I owed you a debt.” As he continued to stand there looking at her, she shrugged. “My brother is Brett Clavel. He was a sergeant in the platoon that—”

“I know Brett,” he interrupted.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember him.” She looked away from him. “A lot of Americans flocked down here to fight for you.”

“Not for me, for Saint Pierre,” he corrected softly. “And for the right to choose.”

Her hands tightened on her lap. “No, for you,” she said fiercely. “You’re the Pied Piper. Do you think Brett would have left college and come down here to fight for Paco Renalto? Brett thinks you can walk on water. He could have been killed, dammit.”

“You resent me,” he observed, his gaze searching her expression.

“Brett is all I’ve ever had. I won’t have him killed or maimed because he’s dazzled by you. He doesn’t belong here.”

“And neither do you.”

“I had to come. You saved his life.”

He smiled crookedly. “Yet you hold me responsible for endangering it in the first place.”

“It was the only way to—” She stopped and drew a deep breath. “I suppose I really came because I want a promise from you.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in a position to grant promises at present.”

“You will be, when you’re free.” She gazed up at him. “When Brett comes back to Saint Pierre, I want you to promise to send him away.”

He became still. “A man must make his own decisions.”

“Not this one. What’s one more soldier to you?”

“One more soldier is nothing. But one more man is everything. I won’t interfere with your brother’s right to choose his own path.”

“The right to choose.” She smiled bitterly. “I don’t care about your damn philosophy. I want my brother safe.”

“I want all my brothers safe,” Ricardo said tiredly. “Safe in their homes, away from the sound of guns. Someday it will happen perhaps.” He sat down on the cot beside her. “I can’t give you my promise, Lara.”

Dear heaven, he was hard as nails. Yet his expression in this moment wasn’t hard at all. He only looked sad and discouraged and weary, and she felt an infinitesimal softening toward him. But she mustn’t soften, she told herself desperately. She had to convince him to give her his word. “Then I’ll just have to keep at you until you do.”

The weariness in his expression vanished as he smiled at her. “I’ve never known a woman to go to these lengths to accomplish what she wanted. Are you always this determined?”

She nodded briskly. “You don’t get anywhere unless you set a goal and stick to it.”

“You’ve found that out through long years of labor and experimentation, no doubt. How old are you, Lara?”

She was annoyed by his indulgent tone. “Older than I look. People always think I’m younger because I’m small.”

“How old?”

“Twenty-one.”

Ricardo swore softly under his breath. “And Paco sent you here?”

“Brett is my twin and you had no compunction about accepting him into your damned army. Why should Renalto quibble about using me?”

“In the military, you have a chance. The Abbey is different.”

She swallowed, her annoyance banished by the panic that flooded through her. “Renalto thinks we have a chance to escape.”

“Maybe.” His gaze searched her face. “Why the hell didn’t someone stop you? Don’t you have any family?”

She shook her head. “My parents were divorced, and my mother died when we were twelve. My father couldn’t be bothered with children and took off for parts unknown right after the funeral. Brett and I spent the next four years in foster homes.” She shrugged. “What difference does my background make? I would have come anyway. Don’t women have the right to choose, too, in your brave new world?”

“Yes.” He grimaced. “But men also have the right to choose to try to protect them.”

She gazed at him in astonishment for an instant before she suddenly chuckled. “A sort of liberated sexism?”

“I never said my philosophy was foolproof against basic human drives.”

She shook her head, a smile still lingering on her lips. The man was not only bigger than life, he was completely disarming. “Well, the basic drive we should be focusing on now is surviving until we can get out of here.”

A frown wrinkled his brow. “I can’t understand why Paco sent you into a place like this just to warn me.”

Her smile faded and she looked away from him. “He wanted you to be prepared.”

“It’s too great a risk for you.” He stood up and moved restlessly toward the window again. “Lord, two days is a long time.”

“Not when you consider you’ve already been here for more than five months.”

“I wasn’t penned in a ten-by-six-foot cell with a half-dressed woman for those five months,” he said tightly. “Jurado’s not stupid. He knows I’m horny as hell.”

Lara felt the hot color suffuse her entire body. Everywhere the gauze of her gown touched, her flesh was on fire with sensation. She could feel her breasts swell, the nipples harden with arousal at his words as well as the picture they evoked.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He didn’t look at her; his voice was low, the words measured. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you. It’s just that I find you … desirable. If you’ll help me, we’ll get along fine for the next two days.”

“I’ll help you.” Her voice was shaking and she carefully steadied it. “It’s a difficult situation and I don’t see why we can’t be companionable.”

“Don’t you?” He laughed shortly. “I could make you see why with the speed of light if I—” He broke off, and when he spoke again, his voice was once more controlled. “You’re right; there’s no reason.” He paused. “The guard should be back with the microphone any minute, so listen to me very carefully. Any conversation will have to be general; never mention names or places. Don’t argue with the guards; just do as they tell you to do. They’re afraid of Jurado, but they’re not above an occasional cuff or kick if you annoy them. Okay?”

She nodded. “I won’t do anything to endanger our chances. I want out of here as much as you do.”

He lifted his gaze from the flagstone floor and smiled at her. “You look like a solemn little girl.” His smile vanished as his glance shifted to her breasts swelling beneath their veil of gauze. “Almost.”

Her eyes widened as she felt a hot liquid tingling start between her thighs. What was wrong with her? Every word, every gesture he made, evoked a physical response. “I … wish you wouldn’t stare at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“I’ve been trying not to look at you since you walked into the cell,” he said thickly. “This damn hellhole’s not very big and every time I look up I see—” He stopped, glancing at the door. “The guard’s coming.”

She had heard the footsteps, too, and felt a rush of relief. At least the presence of the microphone would put a barrier between them. Ricardo’s effect on her both physically and emotionally was escalating by the moment into something most unsettling.

“Yes,” Ricardo said softly.

She looked at him inquiringly.

His gaze was fastened on her face and his smile was knowing. “It will help for a little while but not for long. We’ll have to rely on ourselves, querida.”

How had he known what she was thinking? For a moment she could almost believe the legends his followers had woven about him. Nonsense, she quickly told herself. He was merely accustomed to reading body language, and no one could say she had a poker face. Brett had always said her every emotion was mirrored clear as glass.

“I’ve been relying on myself for a long time,” she said quietly.

“So have I.” The weariness was back and with it she had the vague impression of a deep and abiding loneliness. “But I think I’ll be stretched to the limit this time.”

Before she could answer, the key turned in the lock and the door swung open to admit the guard carrying the new microphone.