Free Path of the Jaguar by Vickie Britton, Loretta Jackson Page A

can renounce all the ideas the Herns have tried for decades to make accepted. And to refute the life work of his own father."
    "It takes great courage, doesn't it? It must be very hard for him to do. His father's still living, you know."
    "I correspond with him from time to time." Joseph's profile was roughly hewn, craggy against the rainy sky. "In my opinion Wesley Hern could learn a good deal from his father."
    Automatically, Lennea reacted to this criticism. "What do you think happened to the Mayas?"
    "I believe the prophecy from the Chilam Balam, one of the few Maya texts that survived the Spanish Conquest. Softly, he began to chant:
     
    On that day, a cloud arises,
    On that day, a mountain rises,
    On that day, a strong man seizes the land,
    On that day, things fall to ruin...
     
    "Why, it's beautiful. But surely you don't go along with Wesley's father's theory, that the Mayas were totally driven from their cities by foreign invaders!"
    "What happened to the Mayas was as inevitable as the fall of Rome. An elite society of priests, a mass of ignorant peasants. Internal rebellion followed by a period of decadence left them weakened, easy prey."
    The sky was beginning to darken, making the snake and jaguar heads take on a sinister cast as Joseph and Lennea climbed down the huge platform. Before they reached the bottom, the rain broke. Shielding herself against the sudden pelting of rain, Lennea began to follow the stream of tourists heading for shelter, when Joseph caught her hand.
    "You haven't seen the Sacred Well yet."
    "But it's raining—" she protested.
    "Tropical storms never last long. Besides," he pointed out, "We're already wet." He urged her forward, ahead of him down a long path thick on either side with damp, wet foliage. "The same road the ancients traveled to visit the Sacred Cenote," he said as they walked together through the rain. Large trees sheltered the path in places, so only a scattering of raindrops reached them, warm and sprinkling, not cold and chilling like the rainstorms back home.
    A few tourists ran past them toward the gate. "I still think we're going in the wrong direction," Lennea smiled.
    They approached a great drop-off with steep walls of limestone. She stepped ahead of Joseph to see the water below, a deep, olive green, which the pelting raindrops turned to shining emerald. The great height of the walls made her a little dizzy, and she thought of the Indians being sacrificed to the gods.
    "The Mayas always sacrificed their most beautiful women to the rain god."
    She turned to gaze into his eyes. What she saw in them made her breath swift and uneven. His dark eyes strayed to the rain-soaked blouse that clung to her like a second skin. "You would make any rain god happy."
    "I'm not going to jump in," she laughed.
    "I didn't suggest that." She could sense his moving, his drawing steadily closer. "I'd much rather you sacrificed yourself to me!" Before she could move away, Joseph's strong arms encircled her. With the warmth of his mouth against hers, they swayed dangerously close to the edge of the Sacred Well.
    * * * * *
     
    Chapter Seven
    Joseph's lips were gentle like the rain. Her spirit caught in some dream-world, Lennea returned his kiss. For a moment, she rested against the warm lines of his body, feeling a strange sense of peace. The mist-like jungle that surrounded them faded into a soft carpet of green. For a brief space in time she clung to him, drinking in the taste of his mouth, thrilling to the touch of his strong, gentle hands which rested upon the curve of her back.
    "Lennea," she heard him whisper under his breath. With a moan, he pressed her damp body closer to him until she could barely breathe. The kiss, which had started out so soft, so undemanding, had become heated and possessive. The hard, searching lips upon hers were probing, demanding a deeper response. Warning signals shot up and down her spine as his hands moved upwards, with a caressing motion, toward her