Dangerous to Hold by Merline Lovelace Read Free Book Online Page A

crate, then glanced around for something to eat with. There wasn’t anything except her fingers. Sarah wipedthem on her robe and tried not to think of what might be clinging to either her skin or her skirts.
    Her first scoop of cold beans and rice lodged in a throat still dry with the residue of fear and exhaustion. Sarah unscrewed the plastic top of one of the canteens and washed the lump down, grimacing at the taste of tepid water laced with chemical purifiers. She wiped the mouth of the canteen with her sleeve and passed it to little Teresa, then scooped up another few fingerfuls of food. Within moments, she was gobbling the hearty fare down as hungrily as the children.
    After half a lifetime of dining at Washington’s elegant restaurants and quaint eateries, Sarah had been surprised at how well she adapted to the steady diet of rice and black beans that formed the basis of every meal in this part of the world. In the evening the villagers augmented the dish with chicken or, occasionally, pork cooked in a spicy tomato sauce. When scooped up in still-warm corn tortillas and finished off with the plentiful fruits of the area, the food was nutritious and filling.
    Or maybe Sarah’s easy adjustment to it had stemmed from the fact that, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t giving much thought to either her weight or her appearance. The humidity had wreaked such havoc on her once-shining cap of long platinum blond hair that she’d taken to simply dragging it back with an elastic band. Moreover, she’d found a degree of comfort and a strange sense of freedom in the baggy cotton trousers and shirts her Peace Corps sponsor had told her to bring. Sarah smothered a silent groan, wishing she could shuck the hot, sticky black habit and pull on one of those lightweight shirts right now.
    Even Maria herself had rarely worn these suffocating robes, donning them only for infrequent visits to her chapter house in the capital city. In the interior she wore sensible lightweight cotton work clothes—and the bright red ball cap with the Washington Redskins logo emblazoned on the front that Sarah had given her.
    At the memory of the ball cap, Sarah’s fingers stilled halfway to her mouth. She closed her eyes against the familiar wave of pain and guilt that washed through her. André had bought the ball cap for her on one of their delightful, illicit outings. Sarah had thought to use the anonymity of the huge crowd at a Skins game to teach the suave, sophisticated Frenchman a little about the American national pastime. Instead, he’d shaken his head at her incomprehensible enthusiasm for what he considered a slow, pedestrian sport and whisked her away during the third quarter to a discreet little hotel to demonstrate what he laughingly called the French national sport.
    She’d been so in love with him, Sarah thought in despair. She hadn’t stopped to think about the pain and tragedy her selfish need for him could cause. She’d believed him when he caressed her and adored her with his skilled hands and clever mouth. She’d—
    â€œDon’t forget to shake your bedroll out before you lie down.”
    Sarah blinked and slewed around to see the gringo stretched out, his long legs crossed at the ankle and a floppy-brimmed camouflage hat covering his eyes.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œShake out the bedroll,” he murmured, without removing the hat. “It’s a safe bet the last inhabitant was a snake, either the slippery, slithery variety or one of his two-legged cousins.”
    Sarah eyed the stained mat beside his in distaste. “Maybe I’ll share a hammock with Teresa.”
    â€œSuit yourself.”
    After the children finished their meal, Sarah wiped ineffectually at the smallest ones’ faces with the dampened tail of her sleeve. Eduard disdained her ministrations. He folded his thin body into the hammock, then pulled Ricci in beside him. Sarah draped a tent of