Foxfire Light (16 page)

The deeper they went into the woods, the darker it became. What light there was in the forest seemed to be a pinkish gray. There was rustling of undergrowth and the rattling of tree limbs. An owl hooted, its eerie cry not sounding far away. Joanna admitted to being a little nervous.

They seemed to have traveled a long way. She was about to ask Linc how far it was to the road when she noticed the trees thinning out ahead of them. She breathed an unconscious sigh of relief when she saw the pale stretch of graveled road.

She checked her horse while Linc put the buckskin down the slight embankment to the road then let the bay gelding choose its own path. Once out of the trees, it didn't seem as dark as it had.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Don't you recognize it?” He waved a hand down the road. “That's where you drove your car into the ditch to avoid Jessie.”

“It doesn't look the same in this light,” she said.

“The lane to his cabin is by that break in the trees.” He pointed to it in his effort to orient her.

“I see it,” she nodded.

Linc tipped his head back to look at the sky.
“It's a shame we don't have a moon tonight, but this half light should hold until we reach the cabin.” He brought his chin down to look at her. “Now that we're on the road, it doesn't matter whether we have light. There will be enough for us to see. There isn't any reason to hurry unless you're anxious to get back.”

“No. Not now that we're out of the woods,” she replied.

By silent agreement, they kept their horses at a walk. The buckskin had a longer stride than Joanna's more closely coupled bay mount so it naturally stayed a little ahead of her all the time. She was less bothered by the nightsounds that came from the woods flanking the road.

The first stars were beginning to twinkle in the blue-gray sky. But the road continued to be a pale ribbon unwinding ahead of them. She became conscious of a cool draft against her skin and realized she hadn't tucked her blouse inside her jeans.

Letting the horse have its head, she wrapped the reins around the protruding horn of the saddle so her hands would be free. As she pushed her blouse inside the waistband, she became aware of the lengthening distance between her horse and the buckskin.

She was about to grab the reins when the bay jerked its head up and seemed to shudder beneath her. It snorted loudly and rolled a white eye toward the side of the woods just ahead of them. Her first glance only noticed the culvert
but as her horse swung its head directly at it, she stared between the horse's ears. An eerie white cloud drifted gossamer-thin alongside the road by the culvert.

Terror gripped her throat. She blinked, certain her vivid imagination was playing tricks on her. But the funny bluish-white light remained and even wavered. She screamed and her horse bolted in panic, lunging straight at the buckskin.

“Linc!” Joanna called his name in panic.

Somehow he swung his horse to the side, avoiding a collision and reaching out for her at the same time. She grabbed for his neck and managed to kick her feet out of the stirrups as the bay horse ran out from under her. The buckskin danced nervously while she sobbed in frightened breaths and hung on tightly until his strong arms were able to sit her across the front of the saddle.

“It's a ghost! We've got to get out of here!” She buried her face in his shirt, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“Joanna, what in heaven's name are you talking about?” His voice sounded caught between being amused and confused.

“Over there by the culvert,” she whispered into the cloth of his shirt. “When my horse spooked, I looked between its ears and I saw it! Oh, let's get out of here!”

There was a moment of stillness, followed by the rumble of laughter deep in his chest. “Look. Is that what you saw, Joanna?” He tried very hard to keep the laughter inside.

His complete lack of concern forced her to peer toward the culvert. The light wavered and grew brighter. Her heart tumbled to her throat.

“Oh, my God, it's still there,” she whispered, because she had expected it to be gone.

“That's foxfire.”

T
his hand gripped the upper part of her arm and held her away from him, forcing Joanna to stop hiding her eyes. Shaken out of her wits by the experience, she was slow to register his words. Her eyes stayed closed and her teeth tightly clenched, her fingers curling into the hard flesh of his shoulders.

“Hey, did you hear me?” His chiding voice was low, rich with amusement. “It's only foxfire.” Linc made it sound very harmless.

Braving the worst, she dragged her lashes open and rigidly focused her gaze on his face, still too frightened to look around. His hard features were gentled by contained humor and his eyes were warm with indulgent forbearance.

“Foxfire?” Her voice was a thin, wavering whisper.

“Marsh lights. It's a natural phenomenon—as opposed to the supernatural,” he explained with a faint twinkle in his look.

By degrees, she inched her head around to slide an apprehensive peek at the mysterious glow. It seemed fainter, less ominous and frightening. It floated about waist high above the ditch, drifting toward the woods.

As she watched, the wispy phosphorescence grew smaller and gradually dissolved. A shudder went through her at its passing. She lowered her head and breathed in a shaky breath.

“I've never been so scared in all my life.” The low admission germinated a seed of anger. It sprouted quickly and spread through her raw nerves. “Damn that Jessie Bates and his ghost-talk. Thanks to him, I've made a complete fool of myself again.”

“You should be used to that,” Linc suggested dryly.

His ready concurrence ran through her like a hot knife. Indignation swelled from the wound. “You really know how to make a person feel rotten, don't you?” Joanna charged.

He tipped back his head to let the laughter roll from his throat. It faded into a chuckle as he shifted her in his hold so that she was sitting crosswise in front of him. His head was tilted down, toward hers, a wide smile curving the Linc of his mouth. Her anger degenerated into a mild form of irritation and hurt pride.

“I don't think it's funny,” she protested on a low, injured note.

“My momma always said a kiss makes the hurt go away,” he murmured and bent his head, bringing his mouth against her lips. The pressure of his mouth was warm and mobile but all too brief. “Feel better?” Linc studied her with a laziness that said he knew well that she wanted more.

For that very reason, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting it. “Some.” But her voice was shaky and she wondered if he could hear or feel the thudding of her pulse.

Her nerves were beginning to react to the hard contact with his muscled build. His left arm supported her back, the hand holding the reins pressed hard against the side of her hip. The palm and fingers of his right hand were curved to the outer portion of her thigh.

She could feel the strong rhythm of his heartbeat against her breast as she was molded sideways to his flatly muscled frame. It was a heady position with her hand resting on his shoulderbone to link fingers with the hand draped around his neck. There was a fleeting wish that she could stay this way for a little while longer.

Then she remembered, “My horse? It bolted.” Instinctively her gaze swung to the road in search of her mount.

At a signal from its rider, the buckskin moved out at a walk, mincing a little at its double burden. “He's probably half-way to the barn by
now,” Linc answered. “Well have to ride double. It isn't far to the cabin though.”

The motion of the horse jabbed the saddlehorn into the tender flesh of her rump. Joanna winced and shifted her center of balance to avoid the prod of the horn. His strong hands assisted in the weight shift which brought her more fully against his body.

“Comfortable?” His downward glance was three-quarters lidded.

“Yes,” Joanna assured him the problem had been solved.

In fact, she was quite comfortable. She silently reveled in this contact with his powerful build. She had never encountered any man who possessed this combination of keen intelligence and brute strength. She studied the rawly masculine features of his face. In her position, it would have required an effort not to look at him since she was squarely facing his profile.

When Linc noticed the way she contemplated him, Joanna felt the need to break the silence. “What causes foxfire?”

The situation was reversed and now she was the object of his steady regard. “It's a case of spontaneous combustion. Two elements can exist in the same environment with nothing happening until a spark sets them off—a catalyst of sorts.” The run of his gaze over her face seemed to give another dimension to his explanation, something to do with their personal chemistries. “It's an elusive thing that is either there or it isn't,” he finished.

It all became clear to her. The friction that was always between them, the physical attraction that kept pulling her to him, and the fire that was kindled within her when they came in contact, they all made sense.

As incredible as it seemed, she was falling in love with him, a man who could irritate her beyond belief yet could arouse a response that was more than mere passion. The dawning light of discovery shone in her eyes.

The air seemed to sizzle as his gaze locked with hers. His chest lifted with a breath that wasn't released. Then he was kissing her, roughly, possessively, crushing her hard to his body. An incredulous joy swept through her, heating her blood at this blatant demonstration of his desires after he had previously denied hers. It was strictly a reflex action that tightened the pressure on the bit to stop the horse.

The buckskin wasn't pleased with its double burden and impatient with its master who couldn't seem to make up his mind whether to stop or go. The animal tossed its head in agitation and pulled at the bit, snorting and shifting sideways in protest to the pressure.

As the horse began to act up, Linc was forced to break off the kiss and bring his fractious mount under control. His arm tightened protectively around Joanna until the horse settled down. He relaxed the pressure on the reins and the buckskin moved forward at a brisk walk.

“Do you suppose he was jealous?” Linc mocked.

“Maybe.” Joanna contentedly nestled her head on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness.

“The next time I take you out we'll ride in a car,” he stated.

A dreamy smile curved her mouth. “That sounds nice,” she sighed.

They were nearly to the cabin when a flashlight beam swept the road in front of them. A second later, it was squarely in their eyes. Joanna turned her face into his shoulder to escape the blinding glare of light.

“Linc. Joanna. Are you all right?” Reece's voice came from the darkness behind the light. “Rachel and I heard a scream. A few minutes later a horse galloped by the cabin and through the pasture gate to your place. Was Joanna thrown? Is she hurt?”

“She's fine. She wasn't thrown,” Linc assured him on that score. “She just had a little scare, that's all.”

The focus of the beam was lowered to the road. “What a relief. We were coming out to find you and see if you needed any help,” Reece explained as he approached the horse, accompanied by Rachel Parmelee. “What happened?”

“It's a long story. Joanna thought she saw a ghost,” Linc explained with an underlying thread of amusement in his voice. “She screamed. Her horse spooked and nearly collided with mine. She sorta dived at me and I sorta grabbed.” He swung out of the saddle and stepped to the ground, reaching up to lift Joanna down.

“You thought you saw a ghost?” There was the amusement of disbelief in her uncle's voice.

“Jessie Bates is to blame for that.” Her hands were reluctant to leave Linc's shoulders. She had to force them down to her sides where she self-consciously smoothed them over her jeans.

“Jessie Bates?” Reece frowned in absolute confusion and looked from one to the other for an explanation.

“We stopped by his place while we were out riding.” Linc collected the reins to lead his horse and walk along with the others. “Jessie told her a couple ghost stories and her imagination took over after that.”

“It wasn't strictly my imagination,” Joanna protested. “I did see something.”

“What did you see?” Rachel's question prompted Joanna to notice that she and her uncle were holding hands.

It struck her as being a youthful display of affection, yet it also made her cognizant that she didn't possess the same easy confidence to display her affection for Linc so openly.

“There was some foxfire along the ditch, although I didn't know it was foxfire,” she admitted her ignorance. “It was just an eerie light.” She left out the part about looking between her horse's ears. It still made her feel silly when she thought about it. “After all the nonsense Jessie told us about ghosts, I thought that I was
seeing one. That's when I screamed and the horse bolted and—” She let the explanation trail off and shrugged away her foolishness. She changed the subject. “How was the fishing?”

“We caught four nice bass for dinner,” Reece answered.

“That 'we' happened to be 'me,' “ Rachel corrected him in mock reproval.

“Didn't you catch any, Reece?” Joanna asked.

“I seemed to have trouble keeping my mind on fishing,” he admitted and the look he gave Rachel identified the source of his distraction. “But we still made it a team effort. She caught them and I cooked them.”

“And ate them all, I suppose?” Joanna teased.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But we do have a fresh pot of coffee made. After your experience, you could probably do with a cup.”

They had reached the driveway to the cabin and Linc stopped, the others automatically coming to a halt, too. “This is where I leave you,” he announced casually.