Chapter 13

Rediscovering Treasure

Though admittedly, between the adventurers, the week had been the hardest on Emily, few of them truly appreciated what the events of the week had done to Patrick. Usually undaunted—cautious, but undaunted—Patrick had become quiet and a little anxious as if anything he said or did might affect Emily's recovery. In truth, Emily's recovery was going as well as could be expected. By the time they landed in Madrid, she was gaining strength and keeping it for longer periods, her flustered determination actually working to her advantage.

Even with the visible signs that she was feeling better—she curled her hair the morning they flew out for the first time in days, and gave Patrick a genuine smile as he offered her his arm while they walked to their hotel room one evening—Patrick was still afraid that if he were to try to behave more like they had before all of this happened, that Emily wouldn't respond well. He knew that her bruises had nearly all healed, but it was the bruises he couldn't see that worried him the most.

All of this worry and anxiety culminated the third day in Madrid. The first day in the sunny western European country had been busy with customs, exchanging currency, and settling into the hotel to sleep off the jet lag. The next two days were spent in research and reconnaissance on the Conservatory so that they could be as prepared as possible to find the lost Mission gold. Not many of the scholars Ben spoke to had heard of it, and those that had dismissed it as a rumor. The evening of the third day, as Patrick slid into the crisp cotton bed linens, he took a deep breath of the quickly cooling fresh air from the still open window. The fresh air had felt so good that they had decided to open the window when they arrived and Emily had assured him that she would close it before she came to bed.

Emily padded on bare feet out of the bathroom, having just completed her shower. The soft linen nightgown she wore hung loose around her body and the spaghetti straps threatened to fall from her narrow shoulders. Patrick sneaked glances at her as she arranged her luggage and chose suitable clothing for the following day. Patrick had never been so organized. He much preferred to wear whatever struck him as the thing to wear that morning rather than choose the night before. He smiled a bit but then caught himself thinking of what a romantic atmosphere they had here in Europe and bit his tongue to curb the feeling. He was certain that it was far too soon in Emily's recovery to even consider intimacy. Emily noticed this thought process and finally addressed him.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Of course," Patrick said, giving Emily a small smile. "Are you ready to come to bed?"

"I only ask because you've been, well," Emily stopped herself and then shook her head, suddenly smiling and then telling him to forget it. "It's nothing," she added.

"It must have been something if you brought it up," Patrick said. "Tell me." Emily once again brushed it off.

"It's nothing," she insisted. "I'm sure it's only in my head anyway."

"If you don't talk to me I can't help you work through what it is that you're feeling," Patrick said diplomatically. She sensed his agitation though, and her expression took on a defensive stance.

"You know, you've handled me like a glass figure ever since we left that hospital," Emily accused him.

"How could I not?" Patrick cried. "Not only had some strange man manhandled you and beat you and forced himself on you, but the doctor gave you drugs for the pain that turned you into a shell! For days I could do nothing right except to hold you close and listen to the woman I love suffer through the most awful thing that's ever happened to her!"

"Which was exactly what I needed at the time!" Emily cried back, still standing beside the bed Patrick was sitting up in. "I've begun to feel better for several days now but nothing's changed in your attitude! Why don't you just say it and get it over with?"

"Say what?" Patrick yelled.

"Don't shout! You're going to wake Benjamin and Abigail!" Emily shouted.

As Patrick and Emily conducted their very loud discussion, Abigail and Ben were lying in bed on the other side of the wall, listening to every word clearly transmitted through the hotel walls.

"I feel sorry for Riley and Jacqui," Ben muttered. "They're on the other side of the other wall." Abigail giggled softly as she snuggled against Ben's chest.

"Do you suppose we ought to break up the lovebirds?" she whispered, gesturing toward Patrick and Emily's continuing tirade.

"I think they're actually getting somewhere. Give them a few more minutes," Ben said softly.

"Are you sure?" Abigail asked.

"Oh, yeah. It worked like that for a while when I was a kid. I didn't understand what happened after they stopped yelling and slammed the bedroom door until I was much older," Ben elaborated. Abigail gasped softly and giggled again, making Ben laugh for a moment before he held up his finger for quiet.

"Here we go…" he said, listening as his parents continued to rant.

"Who's shouting?" Patrick said. "You're shouting! If Ben and Abigail are lying in bed worrying about us going to blows it certainly isn't because of me! What is it you want me to say so badly that, as usual, I haven't picked up on yet? Evidently I didn't acquire ESP in the past 32 years so I *still* can't read your mind!" Emily took a few paces to the window, slammed it and whipped the curtains closed before she turned back to him, tears in her eyes and evident in her voice.

"All I want is…" Emily began but then stopped. She refused to meet his eyes, her tears rolling down her cheek and off the end of her nose as she hugged her arms around her shoulders. "Oh, sod it…" she muttered.

"What!? What is it!?" Patrick demanded.

"I just want you to *want* me again!" she shouted. There was a space of about 3 seconds in which Ben, Abigail, and Patrick were all stunned speechless. Patrick finally looked at his precocious love and was still shaking his head as tears brimmed in his own eyes.

"What on *earth* makes you think that I don't want you?" he said, too shocked to match her volume. Emily seemed to wilt into miserable tears as she took a few steps toward the bed again.

"Right after all of this happened, I felt so dirty," she said. "He made me feel like I'd been taken from you. For a while, all I wanted was to be held—to be reminded that you still loved me—and you were so careful to give me what I needed that I took advantage of your intuition," Emily said, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "The past day or so I thought I could handle being just a bit more, well, normal and I was hoping that you would pick up on that and we could start to get back to the way it was before, but you didn't change, and I found myself suddenly afraid that you…didn't *want* me, didn't *desire* me anymore." Patrick absorbed this for a moment and then offered his bride his hand. She took it and sat down on the bed with him, letting him tenderly brush her tears away before he responded.

"I was so afraid for you," Patrick murmured. "I wanted to do everything just right so that when the time came, you didn't think that I was pushing you to be intimate when you weren't ready."

On the other side of the wall, Ben looked at Abigail and kissed her forehead.

"See?" he murmured playfully. "What did I tell you?" Abigail smiled and rolled her eyes.

"What are you telling me?" Emily asked softly, her gray eyes as wide as the sea. Patrick stroked her face and gently brought it to his so that he could kiss her, filling that kiss with as much of that repressed passion as he dared.

"I've *never* stopped desiring you, and I never will!" he whispered, kissing her again. She responded by rearranging her position on the bed so that she could lean into his chest, resting her hands on his shoulders before slowly moving her right hand up into his hair, deepening the kiss as Patrick wrapped his arms around her. That night, Patrick would remind her more with actions than with words that his inexhaustible love for her was just as tender and strong now as it had been before this terrible ordeal.

Riley and Jacqui, on the other hand, were still much like Ben and Abigail, lying awake and trying not to listen to what was beginning on the other side of the wall. Riley was lying on his back with Jacqui snuggled in beside him, both of them wide awake and wondering if it was more appropriate to listen in utter shock or give in to the giggles that were right there on the surface. Riley thought to himself that he would have preferred a good laugh—he was probably the only man of the traveling party who was *not* getting lucky on this trip.

The young future Mrs. Gates however had no such intention of being quiet. She looked up at Ben and then bit her lip playfully as she reached beneath the covers. A smile spread across Ben's face before he opened his eyes and slowly moved Abigail's hand back up to his chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"What does it feel like I'm doing?" she teased. "We can't let them show us up, can we?" Ben smiled, but replied in the same soft, even tone.

"These are my parents," Ben said. "I'd rather not have to think about you and me trying to outdo them at bedroom Olympics."

"Afraid they'll win?" Abigail teased, flicking her tongue over Ben's pectorals and then lightly blowing on them. Ben bit his lip and arched his back a little under her ministrations, finally taking the initiative and rolling her beneath him, fully intending to give her what she wanted.

…and then there was Riley, one arm draped around his soundly sleeping girlfriend, listening to what he was almost sure he didn't want to know about, and cursing his agreement to uphold Jacqui's virtue--visions of her twin brother using him for a boxing target one of the stronger motivations. Jacqui stirred and looked up at him, noting that he was still awake and seemed to be thinking very intently.

"What's wrong, Riley?" Jacqui asked.

"Oh, I was just pondering the mystery of how two smart, grounded, reasonably logical men seem to be completely whipped by the women in their lives," he replied. Jacqui listened for a moment and then secretly blushed a bit in the darkness.

"Are they?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you think—"

"Uh-huh."

Jacqui could only stand to hold back for about another moment before she started to giggle, and then progressed through to laughing so hard tears peeked at the edges of her eyes.

"Great. That's great. That's so helpful, Jacqui," Riley muttered sarcastically.

"Oh, Riley!" she laughed, attempting to sooth his wounded pride with a kiss. Riley sat propped on one elbow and looked down at her.

"I'll show you 'poor Riley'," he teased, taking to tickling Jacqui in every place he could remember that she was ticklish.

***