Read Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) for Free Online Page B

are all handmade by local people,” she explained, “woven in a method that dates back many generations.” She gestured and I noticed for the first time two young girls working on looms. A bright, patterned material, the basis for the huipils, stretched before them.
    “Now, remember, you told me you’d take it easy on the souvenirs this time.”
    “Yes, yes, dear. I know.”
    I smiled, recognizing the Underwoods. Gruff Dan Underwood sounded determined to keep an eye on Elaine’s spending. Recalling the jewelry that had flashed on her fingers, I wished him luck.
    More trekkers crowded into the stalls. While I hemmed and hawed over my choice, other shoppers snatched up blankets, belts, and tops at an amazing rate.
    I stepped back, out of the fray, and came smack up against another body. I knew it wasn’t Dan. I’d have bounced off his ample mid-section.
    “Excuse me,” I apologized, turning.
    “No problem,” Mart said. “Can’t be helped in this crowd. We’ll be starting the walk to the ruins in about ten minutes. If you’re planning to make any purchases, you’d better do it now so you can get them stowed in the truck.”
    I held up my guidebooks and postcards. “I’ve just got these for now. But I want a huipil.” I trailed off, considering.
    Mart surveyed the clustered Americans and sighed. “These folks don’t care about the ruins, the antiquities. They’re more interested in getting a few goodies to take home.”
    Watching the shoppers pick over the merchandise, I had to wonder if he was right. The scene did resemble the opening minutes of a white sale.
    Mart moved into the thick of the group and I heard him relaying the message about the tour. Inside of ten minutes, we were once again assembling.
    The ruins, we were told by Clark, were a twenty-minute walk away. He pointed at a path leading into the forest and informed us he would lead the way, while Mart brought up the rear.
    “I hope you have all applied your insect repellent. Conditions are always right for mosquitoes in Guatemala,” he told us. “The path here is clearly discernible, so no one is in any real danger of wandering off,” he assured us. Turning on his heel, he set off at a brisk pace. A few of us took a moment to squirt a fresh coating of bug spray on our exposed skin then hurried to catch up.
    Conversation dimmed as we progressed through the jungle. Like the others, I swiveled my head to try and see everything at once, marveling at the sights and sounds. Plants I’d never seen before. The breeze through the treetops. Scurrying noises of some small creature not far off. The insistent buzz of a mosquito even nearer at hand.
    Brightly colored butterflies flitted nearby, dancing from one vibrant plant to another. Birds called from high up in the trees, their squawks harsh but melodic.
    I was glad they were far overhead and not inquisitive about their two-legged intruders. Their lovely markings in brilliant hues were beautiful viewed from a distance and I hoped it would stay that way. Birds are not my favorite creatures, although I try not to mention it. Something about them makes me nervous. In my heart, I know that’s silly; but it doesn’t change things.
    While I searched the immediate vicinity for birds, Jen, just in front of me, paused on the path. I came close to tumbling over her when she knelt to tie a shoelace.
    “How are you enjoying the journey so far, Allison?” she asked, tightening the knot on her sneaker and rising. “I think it’s gorgeous!” She gestured expansively, spreading her arms out as if to gather the whole forest up.
    “Yes, it’s breathtaking,” I agreed. “In more ways than one!” Taking my fact sheet, I fanned my face. The forest was naturally quite humid and even the little bit of exertion we’d done had brought a slick of perspiration to my skin.
    “Good for the complexion. Helps the pores breathe.”
    The people behind us were beginning to grumble at the human roadblock we made. Jen