Iris Johansen - Across the River of Yesterday

"I suggest we go into dinner," Ross interrupted quickly. He took Serena's glass and set it on the Sheraton desk behind him. "Gideon, leave her alone. She's been through enough today."

Gideon seemed mildly surprised. "My, how protective you're being. Maybe I shouldn't have left you alone for quite so long." Gideon's glance returned to Serena's breasts. "I sure as hell wouldn't, if I'd known she was going to pull an Eleanor of Aquitaine." "Yes, you would." Ross's gaze searched Gideon's face. "Is everything okay?"

Gideon nodded. "Better. For now."

"Eleanor of Aquitaine?" Serena asked, bewildered.

"She rode bare-breasted at the head of her troops into the fray," Gideon told her solemnly. "Isn't that what you're doing, Serena? I've never seen a challenge more beautifully obvious."

"Dinner," Ross said again, taking Serena's arm and nudging her gently toward the door. "With all possible speed."

Serena heard Gideon's low chuckle behind her as Ross ushered her quickly from the room.

The service at the table was provided by a slim, dark-skinned young man and was both quiet and unobtrusive. The crystal and china were exquisite, the food was a gourmet's delight. Serena was scarcely aware of any of it. She was conscious only of Gideon's gaze fixed on her with an intensity that caused the surroundings to fade.

Ross attempted the difficult task of keeping the conversational ball in the air, but received only monosyllabic replies from Gideon and Serena. When the meal was over he pushed back his chair, sighed in relief, and said, "Coffee in the study, I think. I hope you both realize I'm planning on nominating myself for a medal. I deserve it after submitting my sensitive psyche to the flak the two of you have been mentally tossing at each other."

"Flak?" Gideon raised an eyebrow. "That's a poor choice of words. I'm not feeling in the least warlike." He threw his napkin on the table and rose to his feet. "Though I admit my thoughts were definitely incendiary."

"I think it's a very fitting word," Serena said coolly. "I'm feeling extremely militant at the moment."

Gideon smiled. "Eleanor into the fray?" he asked softly. "I can hardly wait."

Serena found her gaze clinging to his as if she were mesmerized. She didn't know how many seconds passed before she was able to tear her glance away. She drew a deep breath and tried wildly to think of something to say to destroy the electricity charging the atmosphere between them. "I'm no Eleanor, and you'll wait a long time, Gideon."

"I already have." He grinned. "But at least I'm halfway home."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"That night at Concepcion's." His gaze teasingly lingered on her breasts. "It chafes my possessive instincts to know I wasn't the only one to be so privileged, but that memory has furnished me with a number of fantasies through the years."

The color flooded her cheeks as the memory of gentle hands pulling the white satin bodice up to cover her bare breast suddenly came back to her. "I forgot about that," she whispered.

His smile faded. "I think you tried to forget everything about me, didn't you? I wonder why you felt the need. We're going to have to discuss quite a few things, Serena. Do you remember the bushwhackers we talked about? I have an idea one of them got to you after you left me."

She suddenly felt unutterably weary. "Quite a few of them got to me, but I fought them off the only way I could." She smiled with an effort. "And in the end I came out on top."

"Not entirely," he said slowly. "You let them take a few things away from you. I guess I'm going to have to see what I can do about getting that booty back."

Ross suddenly coughed. "Look, I'm still in the room," he said mildly. "I just thought I'd point it out, in case I'd become an invisible man."

Serena smiled vaguely at him and turned her attention back to Gideon. "The only thing I want you to get back for me is Dane."

"In time." Gideon's eyes narrowed. "I told you what my terms are. All you have to do is to agree, and I'll put the wheels in motion. Lord knows I want to give you whatever you want. Just give me my chance to-" He suddenly broke off as the slim, white-garbed young man who had served dinner appeared at his elbow. The boy murmured something in a low tone and then disappeared as quietly as he had come.

Gideon's expression was abstracted as he turned away. "Something's come up," he said tersely. "Take care of her, Ross." Then he was striding out of the room without giving Serena another glance.

"I gather I've become visible again," Ross said. "Coffee, Serena?"

"No." Her tone was also abstracted. It shouldn't have bothered her that Gideon was constantly relegating her to second place in his scheme of things. It shouldn't, but it did. She had felt as if she had been flicked with the stinging tip of a lash when he'd walked out the door. "I thought I'd go to my room. I'm sorry I was rude, Ross." She suddenly realized she was apologizing to Gideon's partner in crime, and scowled. "Though you both deserved a hell of a lot more than rudeness. Burning at the stake would be most appropriate."

"Whew, how fierce we are," he murmured. "I can't help it if Gideon was forced to opt out of the fireworks. Spare me your wrath, Queen Eleanor."

"And that joke is getting very old." She turned away. "I want to talk to Dane tonight before I go to bed. Will you give me the number at the hotel?"

He nodded, took out a business card and scrawled a number on the back. "Just ask for the Royal Suite." He grinned. "I told you we were taking good care of him."

Serena realized that was a gross understatement when she hung up the phone in her room an hour later. Dane was not only unconcerned about having to stay in Mariba for a good deal longer. He actually sounded reluctant to leave Castellano. She supposed she should be grateful that he wasn't depressed, but she was experiencing only frustration and exasperation. She could have used a little company worrying about their situation, dammit.

She stood up and strode across the room to the closet. She would shower and go to sleep and forget all about Dane and Gideon and the tangle she had to uncomb before she could return to her calm, controlled existence. She pulled her loose gray silk robe from the hanger and started to close the door. She froze.

It couldn't be. She reached into the back of the closet and brought out the white satin nightgown she had tossed carelessly on the cane chair ten years ago. It shimmered, as pristine as if it were new.

She slowly hung the nightgown back on the rod and closed the door. The gown had brought back too many memories, not of Antonio and the horror of that night, but of Gideon and the way she had felt about him. She closed her eyes as she remembered the pain she had felt as she walked down the stairs and out of his life. Lord, she didn't want to recall the moment. Was that why he had left the blasted gown in the closet? It was a clever move and she was beginning to realize Gideon was a very clever man beneath his lazy cowboy facade. She opened her eyes, turned, and moved resolutely toward the door of the bathroom.

An hour later she had showered, had washed and blow-dried her hair, and felt a good deal more in control. She drew back the spread on the bed, plumped the pillows and then moved briskly to the window to open it wider.

Gideon was on the patio.

Serena froze. He was sitting on the rim of the mosaic-tiled fountain. He had discarded his jacket and tie and the sleeves of his ruffled dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. The moonlight touched his hair with flecks of silver and gave his face a stark grimness. He was staring straight ahead, but she didn't believe he was seeing anything but the pictures flashing through his mind. What was he thinking to make him look like that? What emotions were…