Appaloosa Blues (Sisters of Spirit #8) (22 page)

"I hope so," she said, worry twisting its way into her happiness. "I hope we're giving him enough time to adjust. It's been almost too fast for me."

"He'll fight you on this no matter how much time we give him. We must make it appear inevitable — written on stone — so he's forced to accept it."

Leather and the smell of saddle soap and polish made Jo feel completely at home in Adam's truck. It combined with her perfume and Adam's aftershave to heighten her pleasure. She was a child of the mountains, and this complex man, sometimes quiet, sometimes teasing, loved the land as did she.

They weren't a bad combination. He was as strong as the hills and a part of them. Someone she could put her trust into. Someone who would always be there for her. The one man she could love...and he was only pretending.
Or was he?

Underneath her head were the strong, firm muscles of his shoulder, the hardness of his chest. Her hands were filled with the strength of his arms. Arms that had fought Peter and offered her comfort.

He slowed down to take the fork that would carry them towards his side of the mountains. They were going home... Adam's home. Everything seemed so right.

The pattern of her life was beginning to settle into place, the weather vane finally stopping its wild spinning and pointing true. All her life had been focused on Adam. It wasn't merely a case of hero-worship or admiration. There was a calling there, between them...of like to like.

Inevitable.

Did he feel the same way? Would he be content with her ...enough to not want to look elsewhere? When would he ask her to make this "fake" courtship real?

She realized that her soul was singing with happiness. How could things be working out so wonderfully? With a sigh she snuggled deeper against him, half-asleep.

Jo surfaced as they stopped in his driveway, feeling Adam lift her around and kiss her, deeply, earnestly, his strong hands enfolding her completely. She responded jubilantly, kissing him as if she depended on him for life. Supercharged emotions exploded in joyous sensation, a fresh awakening of her body delighting in everything he did.

I love him,
she realized, as the obvious truth slapped her awake.
I really do love him. And had loved him for a long time.

After her grandmother's death she had squelched her childhood affection for him, but it built up inside her till she exploded every time he touched her. No wonder her response always became so magnified.

Jo felt alive with an inner light, switched on without apparent effort by Adam. As before all senses intensified, he evoked the strongest emotions from her. Before she had been half-alive, now she recognized the existence of her other half for whom she'd been waiting all these years.  

His lips explored her face and neck, and he murmured in satisfaction when she moved to oblige him, seeking his touch as a flower seeks the sun.

So this was what it meant to feel extremely desirable and completely feminine — every nerve and muscle blooming under his touch? A romantic spot didn't depend upon your dress or location, but upon your companion.

After a few minutes he held her away from him, letting them both regain their breath. Delight surged through her as she recognized an answering glow in his eyes. They carried an unspoken message of mutual desire.

"They'll be coming soon. Shall we go inside?" he whispered, his lips again brushing hers, seeming to find it impossible to stay away. She nodded. Since they were sitting in Adam's driveway in broad daylight, it was probably wise. But her lips refused to leave his, and they clung together as if afraid to part even for an instant.

"Oh, darling," he murmured, clasping her to him with renewed ardor. "You make it difficult to do even the most simple of things."

"Kiss me again," she begged, delighted, knowing that her actions had told him how much she enjoyed his touch. Here she could allow her emotions more power than she'd dared at the lake.

Her arms encircled his neck and she turned to face him, the steering wheel digging uncomfortably into her back, but she scarcely gave it a thought. This was her man, hers to love. She could feel his sincere response.

Gramps was wrong. She could trust Adam, with her heart ...with her life. Jo knew he respected her, could have told just by the way he kissed her. She could feel Adam's breathing deepen and his arms hold her even closer.

Suddenly Jo recalled his folks’ imminent arrival. "Out." she demanded, gasping for air, and he threw the door open and slid out, taking her with him. Murray met them, dancing frantically around their feet as they went up a short flight of steps to the house. He ran inside as Adam opened the door, and went immediately to a small rug and sat down.

"Storm's bothering him," Adam said, giving the dog a pat. "He knows it's coming. He doesn't like the thunder."

Unassuming on the outside, the inside decor was strikingly beautiful, dominated in the center by a huge stone fireplace, its chimney reaching up through a sixteen foot beamed ceiling. Covering the hardwood floor were large braided rugs, a black and brown Indian rug hung on one wall.

"What a beautiful room," Jo said, impressed with the simplicity and striking design.

"I designed it. The rest is through here," Adam flicked his head toward the doorway. "Come on." His voice might've been nonchalant, but he couldn't keep the pride from showing in his manner.

He took her hand possessively, sending a flicker of joy through Jo, and led her through a small passageway to where the smell of food perfumed a modern kitchen and dining section.

All was done in copper and wrought iron under a sloped ceiling, including a large copper-hooded firepit. A balcony surrounded the hexagon-shaped room and two large sliding doors offered a slightly different view.

"It's built in clusters." she exclaimed.

"That's right. I wanted a house on this ridge, yet not such a large structure that we'd be blown off or have to move yards of dirt and rock." He grinned at the problems created by the site. "The architect thought I was nuts, at first. But each unit is self-heated, separated with fire doors. We can live apart, yet keep track of each other.

"Through there," he pointed down a passage, "is a unit for my mother. My grandparents live in our original house, she'll join them when I marry. Utilities, our generator and a back exit to the barns are down that way, along with sleeping quarters for Johnny," he said, pointing to another door while leading her past the kitchen to a third door.

"This is my unit. Johnny calls it my `Aerie,' or eagle's nest. You'll see why."

The passage was long and switched back as they went upward. Storage cabinets of different sizes lined the passage, each door labeled.

Set on the crag, above the tree tops, Adam's unit appeared to float in mid-air. It was larger than most two-room apartments. A complete unit in itself, he had furnished it in rich browns and blacks, accented with gold and royal blue. Windows on four of the sides, flanked with window seats, looked out past an encircling balcony.

"Fantastic," she marveled.

"Gets to you, doesn't it?" he asked. "I had them build it sturdy, like a lookout tower, with shutters to drop if a storm blows up too hard. I think I'd better put them down now."

She looked about her, entranced, as Adam walked outside and began to lower the shutters. Comfortable, beautiful and exciting. And the view was more spectacular than the rocky point she rode to, on his land.

"I'll bet the sunrises and sunsets are marvelous," she called out, envious.

"Can't beat 'em. You'll like it here."

She would. But only if Adam shared it with her.

A braided rug lay in front of a small free-standing iron stove which would heat this unit easily in winter. She strolled past it, examining one wall half-covered with books, ranging from Louis L'Amour westerns to veterinary and economics texts. There was a desk with a phone, computer and notebooks on it, a file cabinet, chairs and stereo system — and a huge bed. A door stood ajar, revealing a small bath.

Stepping out onto the balcony, Jo saw Adam's telescope mounted on the railing. It was focused on the road and she swung it towards her house. There was Gramps, outside in his rocker, field glasses to his eyes, looking back. Had he seen her? She'd better get off the balcony.

As she started to step back, the end of the telescope rose a hair and Jo saw the mirror in her bedroom as well as if she stood inside. And if Adam could see her mirror, then he could see everything when her drapes were open.

Gramps was right. Adam had been spying on them.
"Adam!" she yelled.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Adam shot around the corner, stopping abruptly when he saw where she stood. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. You can see right into my room," she accused him.

"Only when the curtains are open," he agreed slowly, coming up to stroke the barrel of the scope.

So he had looked in. "And how long has this been going on?" she fumed, angry enough to spit nails.

He froze, staring at her, mouth grim. "Just once." He sounded reluctant, like he was forcing the admission.

"Once?" She didn't believe him and her tone showed it.

"Once. You haven't been home since I built my house here on the ridge. And the last few days, I was carefully avoiding looking your way."

"Then why the once?   And when?"

"The other night. I can explain." His voice was quiet, troubled.

"You'd better."

"The folks who live in the old Renshaw place called and asked me to check their back acreage. A truck had gone by earlier and they hadn't seen it return. I did, then swung the scope in a swift check ending with Gramps. I'd got into the habit of doing that before you came home...." He paused, troubled eyes focused on the cold, dark instrument.

Jo blinked, but remained silent, letting him explain.

"Your room was dark, but you were sitting on your window sill—"

"Like I usually do," she added, remembering how long she had sat there. She also remembered how skimpy her nightgown was and felt her face redden.

He was watching her now, intently. "You looked straight into my eyes."

Thinking of you,
Jo added to herself. "Go on," she prompted him.

"I don't want to lose your trust, Joanna. Out in the truck, just now..." he touched her cheek with his free hand, then continued as she pulled away, "So precious. I don't know how to say this. I'm not like Peter — I wouldn't hurt you for anything — yet I...." he paused again, shaking his head, his mouth clamped tightly. "I'm sorry...but I didn't stop myself until you left the window." It was costing him a tremendous effort to tell her.

She stared up at him, not knowing what to say. His confession didn't bother her as much as perhaps it should. She stared hard at the telescope, turning it around on its stand.

"It didn't hit me fully till I had rescued you from Peter this morning. I hadn't quite realized what I'd done till then."

"I don't see—"

"Wait, please. Everyone has a right to privacy...and... and I violated yours. Your gown covered more than what you swam in, but even if you had been fully dressed, I had no right to look." He took her hand in his, desperately searching her face. "Can you forgive me? It wasn't right for me to look without your…being aware."

He stopped, stricken, then groaned in despair. "Have I lost what I gained, Jo? Are we back to where we started? Or worse?"

Uncertain what to say, she didn't answer.

Grasping the scope, Adam said, "Would it help if you take this thing with you? Then you'll know I'm not up here watching."

Jo touched it, uncertain. Should she take it with her? That windowsill was her favorite thinking place. And some nights, when it got too hot, she slept without a nightgown.

He continued, slowly. "I can promise you I'll never look at your room again. But I'd rather you took it with you, so you'd know. I was sick when I realized what I'd done. Thoughtlessness is not an excuse."

He shook his head in disgust at himself, then searched her face again. "Answer me, Joanna. Have I ruined everything?" He paused, his jaw firmly clenched as he awaited her answer.

Jo stared blankly beyond the valley below, its features darkened by the approaching storm, the rain already drenching the lower areas.

What should she tell Adam? If it had been anyone else, she would have been angry enough to take the scope home. So what made it different with Adam? Was it his evident sorrow at what he had done? That was partly it, but there was more.

She swung her gaze to the mountains, seeking an answer. There was a difference. It was “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.” It was because sometime in the past few days she had begun to feel as one with him.

It was his having the right to look—because she loved him and wanted him to have that right—and because he loved her. Of that she was almost positive. He couldn't be such an accomplished actor, could he?

He had never actually told her he loved her. He used terms of endearment so freely, perhaps they didn't mean anything. Jo wished she knew for certain. Probably he'd tell her — when he was certain. She wouldn't worry about it. She had plenty of time with this engagement to make him fall in love with her. But she knew how she felt and could act on this matter accordingly.

"Jo?" he groaned, wanting her answer.

Her decision made, she released the instrument to reach up with both hands on either side of his troubled face, responding to his need for assurance.

"Don't worry, it's okay," she told him. "I don't know why, but somehow — if it's possible — I trust you even more."

"You mean that?" he asked, eyes wary, head tilted slightly away. "You aren't just saying—"

Raising on tip-toe, she kissed him with all the love and meaning she could put into a kiss. Convinced, Adam responded with a shout of relief, catching her up in a powerful hug.

"Angel-girl, precious, wonderful love." He kissed her again and again with delight, triumphantly claiming her lips. "Thank you."

She noticed the similarity in the two brothers when Adam scooped her up and spun her about in celebration, a grin splitting his face from side to side as he fairly danced around the catwalk with her.