Page 66 of Cutter’s Lady

Later they took another lazy swim, then rinsed their clothes and laid them out to dry in the sun. While Leslie perched on a rock, her hair spread out around her to dry, Cutter fashioned a primitive fishing pole and caught two small fish for supper. He cleaned, then cooked them over a low fire, and they devoured the meal. Despite the multitude of bones and the slight charring from the uneven flames, Leslie thought the fish was delicious. It was another example of the perfection of this day and place. Cutter erected their tent on the rocky shelf beside the lagoon, softening their bed with layers of leaves and palm fronds, and they slept happily curled in each other’s arms.

The next morning they set out again. In the midafternoon they came upon a slight trail. They followed it, their footsteps falling faster now, and within an hour they reached a village. Leslie stopped and stared when they came upon the simple huts with women and children working in front of them. She and Cutter had been alone so long in the dense, oppressive jungle that she could hardly believe other people still existed.

The villagers were equally startled to see them, but Cutter calmed them down enough to learn where the mission was. “It’s less than two days away,” he told Leslie, turning to her and whisking her up in his arms to spin her around. “Darlin’, we’re home free!”

The rest of their journey was buoyed by hope. They followed the villagers’ directions, moving with more speed than they had since first leaving the Morista camp. At last, just as it was nearing dark on the second day, they topped a crest and saw Dolorosa spread out in the valley below them. Cutter let out a yell of pure relief, and they whirled around in a dance of joy before they began their descent to the mission.

The gates were closed and locked when they arrived, but Cutter’s pounding soon brought several people, who lifted the large wooden bar of the gate and let them in. Everyone clustered around them, asking questions, the children jumping up and down. Sister Mary Margaret rushed out of the medical building and threw herself into Cutter’s arms. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick about you. We heard the army had destroyed Mora’s main camp, and we were afraid you’d been caught in it.”

“We were, but we got away,” Cutter replied.

“I should have known. You always do.” Sister Mary Margaret pulled away from him and turned to Leslie, smiling broadly. She gave her a hug, too. “I’m so glad you’re back. We’ve had you in our prayers nightly.” Tears glittered in her eyes. Then she swallowed and became businesslike. “Well, come on in. You two are probably starving. And a soft bed wouldn’t hurt either, would it?”

She steered them through the crowd and across the courtyard into the main building. They ate and talked, everyone clustering around them to hear their story. Cutter spoke in Spanish, and Leslie watched him. Sitting like this, with the people around them, she felt strange, almost sad, as if she had lost something. Slowly she was returning to reality from the isolated world of their adventure—and it unnerved her and made her a little lonely.

Leslie leaned against the table, drooping with exhaustion and her odd emotional letdown. Sister Mary Margaret glanced at her and shook her head. “What am I thinking?” she said. “Leslie is about to pass out, and we’re keeping you up. It’s time you went to bed. We can hear the rest tomorrow.”

Mary escorted Cutter and Leslie to their rooms, then trotted back down the stairs. Leslie walked wearily into her room and Cutter followed.

Leslie froze. “Cutter, no. You can’t.”

“Can’t what?” He was already sitting on the bed to pull off his boots.

“Stay in here with me.”

“Why not?” He stopped what he was doing and stared at her curiously.

“Well, because… Sister Mary Margaret.”

“What?”

“She—well, she’d find out.”

“So?”

“Cutter! Please, I—” Leslie’s hands knotted together in front of her. She felt stiff and awkward and acutely embarrassed. She couldn’t sleep with Cutter tonight. Not here. “I—it’s a mission. It’s a religious place, and Mary is a nun. We couldn’t—I don’t know. It seems immoral, somehow. I can’t. I’d feel so uncomfortable.”

He continued to gaze at her for a moment, then shrugged and rose. “Okay, if it’s that important to you.” He kissed her once, firmly, and walked to the door. He turned, grinning wickedly. “We’re going to have to leave this place real soon.”

He was gone. Leslie sagged onto her bed. Tears pricked at her eyes and suddenly, much to her amazement, she began to cry. She turned and curled up into herself, burying her face in her pillow to muffle the sound and sobbed.

***

They stayed at the mission two days, and it seemed to Leslie that each minute dragged her farther down into reality. The days in the jungle were gone. Now there was a tomorrow, and many more of them to follow. She had to find proof of what had happened to Blake—and, she hoped, some closure—and then she had to return home, she had to pick up her life again. And she knew that her life would not include Cutter.

When this job was over, Cutter wouldn’t stick around. Perhaps he wasn’t the mercenary she had thought he was, but he was still a man who thrived on action and risk. She could never fit into that sort of life, just as he could never fit into her quiet one. With her, he’d be bored in a week; with him, she’d be unsettled and stressed. It couldn’t work, even if he wanted to try—and there was no indication that he did.

Cutter had never settled down, never loved just one woman except for Teresa. Teresa. She had been the perfect woman for Cutter: brave, strong, emotional, at home with intrigue and strife. In short, she had been the opposite of Leslie. Except perhaps for the strength, Leslie knew there was little of Teresa in her. She wanted a quiet life. She was used to calm outside her business hours. She made decisions on the basis of logic, not emotions, she planned things out; she thought before she acted. Surely Cutter, having loved Teresa, couldn’t possibly love someone like Leslie.

Leslie realized that her situation boiled down to this: she was hopelessly in love with a man who didn’t love her and with whom she could never have a stable relationship. She had lost control in the jungle and let herself fall in love with a man who was all wrong for her. She had been as silly and impulsive as a teenager, ignoring reality for the heart-fluttering excitement of the moment. She wasn’t the type for a casual affair, yet she’d landed right in the middle of one.

Cutter would expect her to continue to share his bed when they left the mission and started searching for what had actually befallen Blake. But now that she was thinking clearly, now that she was no longer in the midst of danger and excitement, Leslie knew it would be disastrous to allow the situation to go on. She had never felt anything that compared with being in Cutter’s arms, and she had the suspicion that she never would again. The longer she remained there, the harder it would be to leave when the end came. The more involved she became with him, the worse the break-up would be.

She was back in reality now; she had to be sensible. If she continued to let her heart run her head this way, she’d wind up so deeply in love with Cutter that she would be devastated when he went his own way. She would ruin her life with these headstrong emotions, just as her mother had. And she would not allow herself to do that.

The only sensible thing was to stop the physical relationship between them. When they left the mission, she would make that clear to Cutter. He might be upset at first, but he’d soon accept it. He wasn’t attached to her. He’d never said, never hinted that he thought of her as anything but a woman who was equal parts desirable and irritating.

Having made her decision, Leslie found it difficult to be around Cutter. His casual demonstrations of affection—a kiss, an arm looped around her waist or shoulder, an enveloping hug—now made her awkward. She didn’t know how to respond. She felt trapped between her love for him and her good sense. As a result, she stiffened whenever he touched or kissed her, which made him glance at her in a puzzled way. She started avoiding contact with him as much as possible, trying to place other people between them at meals. It was an impossible situation. Leslie thought she would be glad when they left the mission. It would be a relief to face the issue and get it over with.

But crazily enough, the thought of doing so made her want to cry again, and she wished with equal strength that they would never leave the mission.