Her eyes narrowed and her chin went up. “I was only kidding, what I said about having children.”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“I had my period earlier this week. So it wasn’t an issue. And as I told you, after one scotch too many, I haven’t had sex in forever. So I’m certainly healthy. Don’t worry about it.”
“I wasn’t worried.” He slipped the condoms into his jacket pocket alongside the pearls.
“Apparently, you were.” Her voice shook a little as she headed toward the door, and he caught her arm.
She looked up into his eyes, and he was horrified to see that hers were watery. Swiping at them, she bent her head and pulled away. “I’m still shaky from the whole plane thing. Don’t mind me. Of course I shouldn’t be offended that you reach for your condoms at the prospect of being alone with me. Why wouldn’t you? I’ve jumped you twice now, haven’t I?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Come on. Let’s go.”
“Camilla.” He forced her to face him, but then wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. All he could think of was, “I’m pretty sure I jumped you that last time.”
She smiled. “Uh, I guess we jumped each other maybe. I don’t know what got into me.”
“I think it was the not crashing and dying part.”
“Yeah, that might have had something to do with it.” Her smile widened.
“I could look at you smile all day,” he said softly.
She dipped her head, as if embarrassed.
“Simply an observation.” He looked away.
“Hey.” She touched his arm. “What do you say, for now, we forget about the, ah, unconventional circumstances and just go with the flow until we get out of this. Whatever happens, happens. We still have a long walk ahead of us. Let’s not be awkward with each other. Okay?”
“I’m awkward with everybody.”
“You’re doing pretty well with me,” she said with a twist of her lips.
“Yes, why is that?”
“The not crashing and dying thing?”
He shrugged, reaching for the bomber jacket from the closet. “Here.”
“No, you wear it. I have this sweater.”
“I’m strapping you to the seat unless you put this on. It’s too small for me anyway, and I have my suit jacket.”
“Oh, all right. Thank you.”
He handed her an umbrella from the backpack the pilots had filled with water and snacks and she opened the plane door, starting down the stairs without him and striding off into the darkness. He retrieved his own umbrella, slugged the backpack over his shoulder, tying the laces of the size nine boots together and slinging them over his shoulder as well, and hurried out to catch up with her, flicking on his phone flashlight on the way. The rain splashed around their feet and beat against the top of the umbrellas as they walked in the direction the compass claimed was north. Her ballet slipper shoes were half submerged in water but she kept pace as if they were wellies.
A half hour of mud later, she resorted to the boots, wadding her socks up in the toes so they wouldn’t fall off and double-tying the laces.
The trail they eventually wound up on appeared to be abandoned, overgrown with nature taking back what had once been her own in the first place. They had to take care, flashing the light to make sure they didn’t trip on stray roots or rocks. That, along with the still deafening sound of the storm, precluded conversation as they set a dogged pace. After a while, the rain eased off, but the sky darkened into true night. Periodically, Mason shone the light around them on their environs to try to make sure they weren’t missing a sign or other evidence of people, but for the first few hours, there was nothing.
Beside him, Camilla hugged the oversized jacket to her slight frame, umbrella perched on her shoulder, and when the rain lightened, she collapsed it and walked in what was no more than a heavy mist. A sudden downpour a few minutes later had him struggling to shield her with his umbrella as she reopened her own, not fast enough to avoid getting so wet that her blond hair looked as dark as his and her jeans were soaking.
He shook his head. They couldn’t keep this up all night. But he didn’t say it out loud.
The walkie-talkie sounded up just once, a few hours into their journey with a brisk, “Anything in sight, Mr. Talbot?”
He stated there wasn’t and received a similar report on the other end.
Camilla, under an umbrella again, walked ahead of him even faster.
Later, just as he was about to insist she stop and rest, at least drink some water or something, she snapped her attention to the right and said, “What’s that?”