“Guard the boat! Guard the boat!” Amy mimicked Rodriguez as she stamped back through the undergrowth toward the river. “And who’s going to steal our boat? It’s hardly going to be the Quilloacs, they’ve got canoes that go faster than our leaky old crate…”
She growled as she remembered how Rodriguez had suggested, with Karl’s cheerful compliance, that surely she would be better off resting aboard the Mystique rather than clambering the mountain to the site of Quilloaca. Just because she’d passed out for a few seconds, it didn’t mean she was a helpless female who couldn’t climb over a few rocks. She was determined to see the city for herself, even if she had to bribe one of the Quilloacs to take her up there later, but for now she contented herself with imagining the slithering and crawling inhabitants of the rainforest all heading for Rodriguez, jaws agape and pincers ready.
She was so engrossed in the happy image she didn’t realise she’d gone past the trail to the boat until a spiny thicket some fifteen feet wide blocked her path. Amy sighed, looking up at the solid wall of green for a second before she turned to retrace her footsteps. She moved and stopped, suddenly uncertain. There were two distinct paths here, two indications of recent human presence. One of them was hers, but who’d made the other? Surely not Dominic’s men. They tended to announce themselves in more spectacular fashion. Not the Quilloacs, either. The Indians had perfected the art of moving silently and undetected throughout the rainforest.
She paused a moment longer, then chose the path she thought was hers. For another five minutes, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. But no, there was the tree with the gnarled branches…or was it? The thick foliage on her right opened up, giving her a glimpse of the river in the sunlight. She stumbled toward it, pushing through the whippy branches, and stopped as she kicked something on the ground.
Amy looked down. Clothes. What were clothes doing here? She took a closer look. A man’s clothes, worn and scuffed leathers, a pair of boots with silver buckles, and a raw silk shirt. She whistled. “Who do you belong to, Calico Jack?” She shaded her eyes from the light reflected off the water, tracking the length and breadth of the river, and then she saw him.
He was swimming with a single-minded intensity that made everything else around him seem superfluous. If there were alligators or piranha in this part of the river, clearly he didn’t give a damn. He obviously knew the currents that ran deep and fast in the centre of the Amazon, as he restricted himself to the near-shore area.
A local, then. But not a Quilloac, not an Indian. Despite the distance that separated them, she could see that although his hair was so dark as to be almost black and his skin was tanned to the shade of old gold, he was European.
Amy frowned. Who the hell was he? Archaeologists tended to travel in packs. Was he an anthropologist like her father? They were far more solitary and usually not in total command of their faculties. That would explain why he was swimming in the Amazon.
She brushed at a leaf, watching him swim a little further, and then she blinked as the sun caught the leading edge of something that gleamed, painfully bright, from the waterline. Amy narrowed her eyes and felt a little slither of shock crawl down her spine to nestle in her belly.
Anthropologists, no matter how odd they were, did not go swimming in the Amazon leaving a great big sword sticking in the bank.
She scuttled back into the shrub as he turned about and swam toward the shore, his movements much more leisurely now. Amy hid, sinking down and letting the leaves close over her head, peeking between the traceries of green as he drew nearer to the bank.
His hair was long enough to cling to his face. He shook his head before raking both hands through the sleek darkness. He reached for the hilt of the sword, lifting himself from the water like some barbaric god, gleaming wet with the sunlight running in tiny rivulets down his body.
Amy stared until it hurt to look. She watched him balance the sword in his right hand, cleaning the point of the silvered blade in the river before he tossed it carelessly onto the bank. She admired the impressive display of muscles rippling under the golden flesh as he stretched and began to wade from the river. The surface of the water gave him up slowly, hugging his body for as long as it could. She found she was holding her breath as little by little he was revealed to her.
She decided now would be a good time to retreat. She remembered she was standing on his clothes. But somehow her legs refused to obey her; she simply stood rooted to the spot, her breath getting shorter as he prepared to climb up onto the bank.
She didn’t know if she made a noise but suddenly he lifted his head and stared right at her hiding-place. Amy froze, praying he hadn’t seen her. Curiosity was one thing; discovery was something else entirely. She risked another look, and he’d vanished. The first wash of relief was replaced by fear. He’d want his clothes; he’d find her spying on him, and then…
She slunk away, edging back out of the shrub and creeping from the riverbank for a short distance before running along the flattened trail until she came to a dead halt by the spiny thicket again.
Amy stared at the grey trunk in front of her, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. All she had to do was turn around and retrace her steps again. Not difficult. Don’t think of him, he’ll be long gone…
The rainforest was alive with sound: insects, birds, animals, all screeching and whirring and calling to one another in display or warning, but the noise couldn’t mask the deliberate snap of a branch behind her, the soft thud of heavy boots on the mulch.
Amy stood very still, waiting.
There was a lull in the cacophony around them, a sudden dimming of the sound, and she found every nerve in her body straining to listen for him, to hear his next move. She caught her breath as she heard the whisper of air cut by a blade. Before she could move or speak or even think, he was behind her.
The leading edge of the sword glittered as it slid past her dazed eyes to rest against her throat. The blade was keen, honed by an expert hand, but she had no desire to test its sharpness. She tried not to tremble, but failed when he leaned down and murmured, “So you like to watch, do you?”
His voice was smoky and rough, amused and wicked. It did funny things to her insides. “When the view is nice enough,” Amy replied breathlessly. “Sorry.”
Now she could feel his warmth, sensed the power and strength of his body behind her, although all she could see was the sword. “You’re not sorry at all.”
His hair brushed her cheek and the side of her neck, leaving a damp trail across her skin, and her shiver turned into tiny tremors as he nuzzled at her ear. His breath was warm and ticklish against her neck, and Amy squirmed inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her reaction.
His tongue flickered over the softness of her earlobe, catching her earring in a brief tug that brought a muffled moan to her lips before he nibbled gently at her ear. Amy fought against the arousal that flooded through her at this simple, complex touch.
“You mustn’t do that.”
There was the slightest scrape of stubble over her neck as he moved his head against hers. “Why not?”
“Because…” Amy remembered Karl. “Because my boyfriend is expecting me to come back to him very soon and…”
She felt his lips curve in a smile. “You’re a bad liar.”
“Usually I’m a very good liar.”
He chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “Then something is distracting you, my sweet.”
Amy coughed. “I wonder what that could be.”
He angled the sword so it brushed her skin lightly. “One of two things, I imagine…”
“Trail of Feathers is an action packed thrill seekers paradise. An engrossing intricate web of suspense, mystery, and romance all wrapped up into one satisfying masterpiece. While at times you may have to set aside reading for daily activities, it won’t be put down for very long. This type of novel isn’t seen everyday, it is a keeper.
“In her Silk’s Vault debut, Trail of Feathers, Olivia Lorenz makes it known she is a worthy addition and a force to be reckoned with. Her eye for detail and remarkable talent for storytelling will no doubt make Olivia a rising star. In the future I do hope to see more from Olivia Lorenz, and the hopeful possibility of a sequel to this compelling read.”
- Joyce, CK2s Kwips & Kritiques – 5 out of 5 Clovers!
“Ms. Lorenz weaves a tale of history, mystery, anthropology, and archaeology, with a sizzlingly steaming romance line. This is a novel of which I can truly say I literally could not stop reading. Hopefully this author will be prolific in writing further. The characters are well-delineated, and the plot is non-stop action, adventure, and mystery. Before you begin this book, take the phone off the hook, turn off the tv and the computer, and lock the door, because you won’t know anything else until you turn the final page.”
- Annie, Euro-Reviews – 4.5 out of 5!
“Trail of Feathers is a very intriguing work of art to say the least. With a mixture of mystery and romance to curl the toes, this incredible tale is hard to put down once the first page is started. Amy is determined to find answers to unlock the mystery of her father’s artifacts while her heart is willing to find a path to Richard, who has a delectable charm that weaves through the pages. The addition of the two students interacts to make a fast-paced read that keeps the reader spellbound, as well as the well-rounded other secondary characters. Ms. Lorenz spins a fabulous suspense that really captivates. She puts the reader into the complete setting of the story, and her visualization is remarkable. The romance is just the right amount to not detour from the plot of the storyline, making the tale even more convincing. I was so mesmerized by the story that I wanted it to continue. This engaging read is a keeper on the shelf for sure.”
- Linda L, Fallen Angels Reviews – 5 out of 5 Angels!
“Don’t deny yourself the pleasure of reading Trail of Feathers by Olivia Lorenz. Ms. Lorenz has created incredible characters and an intriguing plot. It will have you frantically flipping pages to see what will happen next. The chemistry between Amy and Richard is scorching and the love scenes erotic and very creative. I highly recommend reading this book. I will be looking for more books written by Olivia Lorenz as she’s the newest addition to my must-read list!”
- Susan, TwoLips Reviews – 4.5 of 5!
“Trail of Feathers by Olivia Lorenz is a fascinating story including an exciting adventure into the Amazon Forest. […] The story is filled with intrigue. It seems everyone has an agenda in which they will lie and betray to achieve. As the men confront each other, there will be exciting action-filled battles. Thrilling details describe the action making for easy visualization. There are also numerous scenes of explicitly described steamy encounters. Whips, chains, and chocolate are just a few of the items used in these graphically described scenes of carnality. Trail of Feathers brings to mind Indiana Jones movies or The Search for King Solomon’s Mines. For excitement and action this story is one of the best. Trail of Feathers by Olivia Lorenz is a passionately exciting action-packed adventure that I can highly recommend to the readers.
- Anita, The Romance Studio – 5 out of 5 Hearts!
“This mystery is well written and captivating, leaving you guessing until the very end. It was reminiscent of stories I read when I was younger, but with hot sex and tightly written scenes that had me turning the pages much faster than I used to… I got more and more wrapped up in the story. I’d love to see another adventure with Amy and Richard at the helm.”
- Astraea, Enchanted Ramblings – 5 out of 6 Wands!
