Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) by Kate Fellowes Read Free Book Online Page B

trunk with a notable thud. Both men froze and I dropped down low so they wouldn’t spot me. Clark muttered a few words in Spanish and the underbrush rustled as they hurriedly parted.
    I stayed where I was, crouched among the plants, barely breathing, for a full five minutes. Apparently, Clark wasn’t going to investigate.
    Moving swiftly, I retraced my steps and emerged into the clearing of the Great Plaza, not far from where I’d left it. A row of stone monuments stood just before me and I took a moment to lean against the closest one. My hand rested in a protective fashion against the camera around my neck as I scanned the groups of people nearby, anxious to locate Clark.
    When I spotted him, he was standing in a cluster of tourists and seemed to be giving an impromptu lecture. He turned, extending an arm to gesture at the stelae. Was it my imagination or did his eyes rest on me too long? Did he pause for an instant in his oratory, or was it just my guilty conscience?
    Casually, I moved away, snapping a few pictures and waiting for his hand to land on my shoulder. But there was no way he could know it was me in the woods. And why would he care if I took his picture, anyway?
    I puzzled over what I’d seen as I headed toward the looming temple, but when I approached it, the imposing structure demanded all my attention.
    How tall it was! The stones were black and gray and white with steep narrow steps cut in the front leading up, up, up. At the top was a three-roomed chamber where rituals had been held all those years ago. An arched carved piece, called a roof comb according to the guidebook, topped the pyramid off.
    A little boy of seven or eight brushed past me in a hurry and proceeded to scale the steps like a mountain goat. Unafraid, he scampered quickly to the top, turning to wave and shout at his parents, down on terra firma next to me. When that couple began the climb at a more sedate pace, I followed, shucking my arm through the other strap of my pack and settling it between my shoulder blades.
    Hand over hand I started up, clasping the steps above for balance. Each step was only five inches wide, so I was forced to turn sideways to advance. Is this how the Mayans climbed, I wondered, breathing heavy and falling behind the other couple. Or were their feet smaller than ours? Now, there was a question for the zoo director, I thought, stowing the idea in a mental file.
    My pack kept bumping into my back at each step and I wished it wasn’t so large. Its cumbersome weight made my balance precarious. I was only about twenty feet up, but it felt like more with nothing around me but blue sky.
    The rocks were rough to the touch, chipped and worn in spots over the centuries. Gamely, I continued climbing. The steps were wide enough to permit others to pass me quite easily, and several folks already had when I heard steps approaching behind me. I moved closer to the far side of the steps, out of the way, my eyes still on the step just above me. This time, though, the climber didn’t go around but hit me straight on, colliding roughly with my shoulder. The next few seconds happened in slow motion, the way car accidents always do.
    The bump threw me off balance and I leaned to the left, rough stone digging into my palm. I made a grab for the climber’s bare ankle as I tried to keep my footing, but I missed and those narrow steps did me in — once one foot slipped off, the other followed almost immediately.
    I pitched forward, into the steps, my right hand grasping at stone, my left scraping roughly as it dragged against the edge of the step. My upper body hit each surface with a thud and my brain dimly registered the noise my camera made as it, too, clunked along.
    I only fell about ten feet, I realized later, but it was ten very agonizing feet. By some miracle, I managed to get both hands clasped around a protruding bit of stone, the heavy bulk of my stupid backpack making the motion both awkward and treacherous. Then, I