Captive Of Fate. Lindsay McKenna

dangerous circumstances and get a better overall impression of the situation. Men tend to take things at face value. The black and white of it. I think most women see through that and are aware of the shades of gray in life.”

      “And so you ‘stretched’ your intuitive abilities?”

      “It’s saved my life and the lives of others many times. You bet I did.”

      Alanna remembered Tim Thornton abruptly, wondering for an instant if the senator was wrong. She quickly dismissed that thought, unable to believe that the senator could feel so strongly about Colonel Breckenridge without due cause.

      “So, who canned your five senses and forced you to make all your decisions on the basis of logic?” he asked.

      She was beginning to breathe hard again, despite the fact he was slowing down the pace. The trail twisted steeply, with roots and vines now crisscrossing the path. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she felt a tension headache coming on. How far had they gone? How far was it to the village? The question caught her completely off guard, and she blurted out the answer without stopping first to analyze it. “The man I used to live with, Paul Ramsey. He is a political analyst for a powerful lobby in Washington. I’m afraid we were mismatched from the outset.”

      Matt stopped, pulling out the canteen and offering it to her as they rested at a small crest. His face had a sheen of sweat on it, but his eyes were hawklike in intensity, missing nothing. “A computer for a mind and no emotions?” he inquired.

      Alanna gratefully drank the water down, the halizone taste seeming less potent this time around. She handed the canteen back to him. “Yes. You sure you aren’t reading my mind?”

      He lifted the canteen to his mouth, taking a small swallow and then replacing the cap and snapping it back into the belt. “No. It just comes from experience,” he assured her.

      “Look,” she begged, “can we rest just a moment? My feet are killing me.”

      He checked his watch. “Five minutes.”

      Alanna collapsed on the spot, balancing her weight on a thick root that had been washed clean of the surrounding soil by the ferocity of the September rains. Her braids hung like thick ropes, tendrils of hair escaping around her temples, softening the angularity of her high cheekbones. Matt sat opposite her, digging out a candy bar from his pocket, breaking it in half, and offering it to her.

      “It’s high-energy. Go ahead, eat it.”

      She stared down at it. “Will it taste as bad as that water?”

      He shook his head, a glint of laughter returning to his gray eyes. “No, I promise.”

      The seconds flew by in companionable silence, the only sound the plop, plop, plop of water drops falling from the higher reaches of the trees to the lower leaves surrounding them.

      “How long did you live with him?” he asked quietly, breaking the pleasant tranquility.

      “Four years.”

      “Meet him right after graduation or before?”

      “I met him a year before he got his master’s from Harvard.”

      He raised one eyebrow slightly. “Probably was the head of his class?”

      She nodded, relishing the taste of the sweet chocolate. For some reason, it didn’t hurt as much to talk about Paul. Before, whenever she thought of him, she could feel the ache begin in her heart, and it was too much for her to bear. At times like that she would throw herself into her work to forget the whole fiasco. “He’s a brilliant man,” she said earnestly. “A genius.”

      “Of ideology, no doubt.”

      Alanna gave a muffled laugh. “God, don’t remind me!” She rolled her eyes upward. “I try to forget the hours we spent discussing economics, politics and social issues. He always won out with his damn logic.”

      “How did he take that volatile temper of yours, Alanna?”

      Some of the humor went out of her. “You can probably guess. It was simply a matter of control as far as he was concerned. Mind over matter or whatever.” She gave a little shrug. “He had a minor in psychology, and he was convinced that my childhood was responsible for my reckless emotional state.”

      Matt tilted his head, watching her closely. “In what way?”

      She finished her half of the candy bar, making a small knot of the paper and slipping it into her drenched raincoat pocket. “Both my mom and dad died in a car crash when I was two. I—I don’t really remember too much about it. My aunt told me I was in the hospital for almost six months recovering.” She forced a smile. “In a way, I’m glad it didn’t happen when I could recall it. It would be too painful…too horrible,” she murmured, swallowing hard. She looked away from his compassionate gaze, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Why on earth was she letting him evoke all of these long-buried emotions? She had brought up the subject of her childhood only once with Paul, and he had never let her forget that it was responsible for her rash temper and explosive reactions. And if she cried, he would calmly tell her that it wasn’t necessary, that her parents had been dead twenty-seven years and it was far past the time to bury that memory and go on living. She hugged her arms around her knees, drawing them close and shutting her eyes tightly, hating to hear those same sing-song words echoing in the corners of her mind. It had been a year since she’d left Paul, and she could still recall with absolute clarity his speech on the topic.

      “Did your aunt and uncle raise you then?”

      Alanna looked up, responding to the coaxing gentleness in his voice. “Yes. I know they loved me, but it just didn’t turn out right. Both of them had their own careers, and they didn’t have any children of their own.” She shrugged. “I spent a lot of my time reading books, writing stories in my room. I learned how to keep myself entertained.”

      Matt nodded, rising. He held out his hand to her. “Personally, I like your unleashed emotions,” he murmured.

      Alanna’s lips parted as she looked at his outstretched hand. Without thinking first, she placed her smaller one in it, feeling the warmth of his grip as his fingers closed around hers. He pulled her upward easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her heart was pounding erratically, and it wasn’t from the altitude. It was from his touch.

      Matt released her, a curious smile on his mouth as he reached out, lightly brushing her cheek with his fingers. “Alanna, don’t ever apologize for who and what you are. The woman underneath is very warm and loving. Let her surface,” he murmured. “Let yourself laugh and cry. Don’t let someone tell you that it’s right or wrong. And throw that damn logic of yours out the window. It’s stifling the hell out of you. Come on, we’ve got some time to make up.”

      A tremor of longing coursed through her. For a split second, she thought he was going to lean over and kiss her, but then he turned and started up the trail. She wanted to feel his mouth upon hers once again, she admitted to herself. He was honest in a way she had never known a man to be. Woodenly, she followed him up the trail, so many sensations exploding within her that another mile fell away under her feet without notice.

      * * *

      He called a halt at the fourth mile, and Alanna leaned heavily against a tree, sliding down to the wet ground with a sigh. “Thank you,” she murmured sincerely, removing her shoes and trying to shake the accumulated mud out of them. He smiled, squatting down in front of her.

      “You have heart, I’ll give you that. Maybe not a lot of common sense, but you’re a stayer,” he said, opening the canteen and offering it to her.

      Alanna grinned recklessly, feeling vital even though she was on the brink of physical exhaustion. “Paul would have said not to let the heart rule the head. Causes stomach ulcers or some such thing.”

      “I’d rather have the ulcers,” Matt commented, returning the grin.

      She gave the canteen back to him, enjoying his closeness.