Elusive Hope by MaryLu Tyndall Page B

Now”—she glanced around—“do you have any of this ping…pinga for sampling?”
    “Ah, sim…yes.” Thiago pulled a flask from his shirt pocket. “We made some last week.” He uncorked it and handed it to her.
    “Good thing ’cause I only have one more bottle of rum from the ship.” Mr. Lewis scowled. “That is, unless Hayden can bring some back from Rio.”
    Hayden? Rio? Magnolia batted away a bug and took a sip. The pungent liquid stung her tongue, filling her mouth with a spicy orange taste. She coughed and struggled to breathe.“Mercy”—her voice sounded like an old woman’s—“but this is strong.”
    Both men chuckled. The buzz of cicadas intensified around them, reminding Magnolia of the odd crackling she’d heard the other night. “But what is this about Hayden and Rio?”
    “He leaves tomorrow.” A breeze tossed Thiago’s shoulder-length hair behind him as he stared at the fire. “I tell him best way to walk to Rio from here. I will miss him. We travel jungle together much.”
    “Tomorrow?” Magnolia took another sip of pinga, wondering why her heart suddenly cinched in her chest. “Why is he going? For supplies?”
    “He say he not happy here. Did not find what he look for.”
    “He’s not coming back?”Magnolia felt like she weighed a thousand pounds. She took another drink to ease the pain and was pleased when her mind began to numb.
    That numbness, however, did not reach her heart. Not even after several more sips.
    Three hours later, with valise stuffed and swung over her shoulder, Magnolia shoved aside the canvas door of Hayden’s hut and entered the dark room. She had never been in a man’s bedchamber before, and her heart did a hard tumble in her chest as she stood there frozen, focusing on the sound of male snoring, seeing nothing but shadows. She hated disturbing his sleep—had paced in front of his hut for hours—but she had no choice. What if he left before she’d had a chance to speak to him? Then she’d be stuck in this bug-infested jungle forever.
    Hayden was her last chance.
    She took a step toward his cot, the edge of which was visible now in a stream of moonlight drifting through the window. A dove cooed outside and somewhere in the distance a growl rumbled through the jungle, reminding her why she needed this man’s protection on the way to Rio. If only he would agree to take her.
    Another step and she could smell him. All musk and man. Not an offensive smell, but a scent that brought delight to her heart, much like the smell of peach pie brought a flood of good memories from her childhood. He stirred and shifted position, his arm landing in the moonlight. His hand—twice the size of hers—bore scrapes and calluses from his work in the fields. She hoped he wouldn’t get the wrong idea upon finding her at his bedside in the middle of the night. But she was desperate. And desperate times called for desperate ways, or measures, or whatever it was they said.
    She took another step and knelt beside his cot. His breathing was deep and rough like the man himself, and she wished she could see his face in the shadows. Now, how to wake the sleeping beast? A gentle touch, perhaps. That always worked with her father. She lifted her hand to lay it on his arm.
    When his fingers gripped her wrist like iron shackles.
    Before she could react, he leapt, flung her onto the cot, flipped her over, and pinned her arms down with his own. Magnolia would have screamed, but she didn’t want to alert anyone. Instead, she struggled against his tight grip. “Get off of me this instant!”
    He released her, disappearing into the shadows. A match struck and the flame sped through the air to light a candle, illuminating the petulant fiend.

    “Magnolia?” Hayden blinked, trying to clear the sleepy haze from his eyes. “Zooks, Princess, what are you doing sneaking around my hut in the middle of the night?” He’d heard her—and smelled the alcohol on her breath—the moment