Everlasting - Iris Johansen [18]
Something was happening to them, and although she was still bewildered, she was no longer frightened. Instead, she was beginning to experience a buoyant exhilaration like nothing she had ever known before. It was as if a wonderfully thrilling adventure were hovering on the horizon and all she had to do was move toward it and it would be hers. Dear Lord, how she wanted that adventure!
She jumped up and bent to retrieve the yellow silk robe on the floor. She had to shower, dress, and then repack her night things. She cast a glance at the covered tray on the bed and made a face. The food was probably stone-cold by now. Even if it was still edible, she was too emotion-charged to find food appetizing at the moment. Perhaps she would be able to eat something later on the plane.
Her steps were quick and light, with just a hint of ebullience, as she crossed the carpet toward the adjoining bathroom.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Zack said, his eyes narrowed on her face. “I had no idea you'd be this happy to get back to Tamrovia. Somehow I got the impression you weren't overly fond of your native land.”
“I'm not. Oh, that's not true. I guess I actually love it.” Kira slipped her arms into the pearl-gray suit jacket she'd removed for the trip. “It's just that I always feel a sense of oppression when I step off a plane onto Tamrovian soil.” She wrinkled her nose. “Which doesn't indicate that I'm particularly sensitive. Stefan is known to have the same effect on the entire country. No one has ever told him monarchs can't censor the press and outlaw trade unions in this century. Or, if they have, he hasn't really heard it.”
“And no habeas corpus,” Zack said thoughtfully. “His particular form of deafness could be very dangerous.”
“Why do you think Stefan has tightened the exit visa restrictions and strengthened the complement of border guards? The Tamrovian factories are all pitifully undermanned because workers are leaving Tamrovia for Germany and Switzerland. Who can blame them?”
A curious smile touched Zack's face. “You seem very well informed for a ‘scatterbrained madcap.’”
Her glance slid away from his. “It's common knowledge. I just don't bury my head in the sand the way Stefan does.”
“Perhaps.” He unfastened his seat belt as the Learjet came to a rolling stop before a hangar in the private sector of the airport. “You didn't answer my question. Why are you in such good spirits all of a sudden?”
She still didn't look at him. “Why shouldn't I be happy? You've promised to free Marna and that's very important to me.”
His hand reached out and fastened on her arm. She could feel the warmth and strength of it through the linen blazer. His eyes met hers with searching gravity. “No games. Truth.”
She opened her lips to make another evasive answer and then closed them again. She didn't want to evade him, even if it meant exposing her vulnerability. “I don't know,” she said simply. “I'm just happy. I think it has something to do with you, Zack.”
His hand tightened on her arm for the briefest instant. “Dear Lord, I hope so.” Then his hand was releasing her and he was rising to his feet. “Come on. Let's get this show on the road. The sooner we can get Marna out, the sooner we can move on to more important things.”
She raised an inquiring brow. “For instance?”
His eyes twinkled. “Why, the mondava, of course.”
She cast him an exasperated glance. “Now who's playing games? If you won't let me in on the big secret, it's not very kind of you to tease me with it.”
“Sorry, you're right. I'm not being fair.” His voice lowered to velvet softness. “I think I went a little giddy for a moment. You see, I find I'm very happy too. Strange, isn't it?”
She was having trouble tearing her gaze away from his. She was sure his eyes spoke of many fascinating things if only she could understand. She stood and picked up her handbag. “We haven't decided what story we're going to tell Stefan about our relationship. Hadn't we better put our heads together?”
“Not exactly the portions of our anatomies I was interested