Morning Light (28 page)

“You are so sweet, so wonderfully, impossibly sweet,” he whispered.

When he drew her legs around his hips, she locked her ankles at his lower back, riding high above the water now, her breasts his for the taking. He took until she thought she would certainly go mad with the longing that was building to a crescendo within her.

In a dizzying blur of movement, she found herself perched at the edge of the pool with him trailing soft kisses over the bruises on her inner thighs. She didn't know where her panties had gone, only that she was no longer wearing them. When she realized where he meant to kiss her next, she was appalled.
This
didn't happen in the movies, not that she'd ever seen, anyway. She planted a staying hand at the top of his head.

“I don't think—”

“Don't think,” he whispered against her skin, the caress of his lips sending jolts of delight streaming through her. “Trust me, sweetheart. Just trust me.”

She trusted him. She
did
. She'd followed him into the wilderness, trusting him with her very life. It was just—“Oh,
my
. I don't think…Clint? What're you…I just…” And suddenly there were no words. A shriek bubbled up at the base of her throat, her body tensed, and sensation exploded through every cell of her body.

Her muscles were jerking as if she'd just had a seizure when he joined her on the rocks. She splayed a hand on his chest to measure every hard beat of his heart.

“I can't,” he whispered roughly, burying his face against the slope of her neck. “Not here, sweetheart. Not on the damned rocks.”

She heard the tortured strain in his voice, felt it in his shuddering torso. Vaguely she registered that he was afraid of hurting her. Hot tears stung her eyes. His willingness to deny himself in order to protect her touched her deeply. But she wasn't made of fragile glass. The timeworn stone beneath her was smooth and warm. Catching his dark head in her hands, she angled her face to kiss him, conveying to him in a language as old as womankind that she wanted him, right there, right
now
.

He groaned, murmuring against her lips, the words disjointed, his thoughts tumbling forth in a confused rush. “You're a virgin…Not on the rocks…Too sweet, too precious to me. I can't.”

Loni deepened the kiss, invading his mouth with thrusts of her tongue just as she yearned for his throbbing manhood to invade her body. She felt no fear, only a sense of absolute rightness. She wanted,
needed
to feel him inside of her,
yearned
to be one with this man, her dream cowboy. She'd been waiting for this moment all her life.

When he rose above her, a blur of bronze in the deepening twilight, she smiled. He divested himself of the boxers, returned to her with a quaver of breath, and gathered her back into his arms, the swift tattoo of his heart vibrating against her breast, bare skin against bare skin, his muscular body slick with water and sweat. Breathless, they looked into each other's eyes, once again communicating without words. His gaze clouded with tenderness. Gently he nudged at her passage with the head of his shaft. She opened herself to him, her hands clenched over his shoulders.

“I'm not afraid,” she assured him.

“I
am
,” he confessed, his body trembling. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Her gaze locked on his, Loni lifted her hips to impale herself. The pain was sharp, a tearing sensation deep within her. She clenched her teeth against it, straining upward, until he finally cursed under his breath, drew her close, and broke through the barrier with one smooth thrust. She gasped and dug her nails into his skin, her body arching against the brief flare of discomfort. But then, as quickly as it came, it began to abate to a slight burning sensation.

Clint held perfectly still, watching her face, his breath coming in sharp, uneven rasps. Knowing that he held himself in check out of concern for her, Loni dredged up a tremulous smile, encouraging him to move slightly. The molten friction set off explosions of delight within her.

“Oh,
yes
,” she whispered. “Oh,
yes.
”

The words seemed to release him. White teeth clenched in a grimace of restrained passion, he withdrew and then plunged deep, magnifying the feelings within her. A glorious, white-hot tingling spread through her.

“Oh, yes…”

With jarring force he set the pace, and she rocked her hips to his rhythm, sobbing as renewed need mounted inside her. Higher. Higher. He pushed her ever upward toward a zenith of pleasure.
Clint.
His name resounded in her mind like a song.
Clint.
And then she reached the crest, spinning off into a dizzying darkness sparkling with fragments of brightness. It was like plunging off a cliff, only she wasn't afraid because his arms were around her. On the descent, she felt his body snap taut, his thrusts quickening to a jarring intensity, and then he jerked and froze, his body shuddering with release. A tingling heat pulsed into her.

As he went limp on top of her, Loni enfolded him in her arms, too exhausted to move, too satiated to care. Vaguely she registered the soft twittering of birds in the trees around them, their voices heralding the darkness soon to come. Somewhere near them water trickled, the sound almost musical as rivulets spattered onto the rocks. As a backdrop, the evening breeze whispered in the pines, creating a ghostlike moan that reminded her just how vast the wilderness around them was. In that moment, as she absorbed the sounds, she believed with all her heart that it
was
a song—a composition of nature, a celebratory symphony, perhaps sent from on high.

Clint stirred slightly, his damp hair feathering against her cheek. “Why don't I feel guilty?”

Loni grinned and trailed her fingers through the waves that fell over his forehead. “Because nothing so beautiful could possibly be wrong.”

Bracing on an elbow, he shifted his weight onto the rocks to lie on his side, his broad chest still canopying hers. His eyes misty with tenderness, he traced the shape of her lips with a fingertip. “I feel it, too. The rightness. I feel complete for the first time in my life—like part of me has always been missing until now.”

In a fluid display of masculine grace he moved off the rocks and back into the pool, beckoning for her to join him. There in the deep, with the steam rising white against the gathering darkness, they floated in the embrace of the hot water, their hands joined, their gazes locked, no further words necessary between them.

It was almost full dark when Loni got a strange crawling sensation at the nape of her neck—as if someone were watching them. Trailing her gaze around the pool she saw why. Above them on the rocks, the dark, silvery shape of a wolf was delineated in the gloaming. Her heart caught with sheer terror.

“Clint,” she whispered.

As if he sensed the presence, too, he jerked his head around. “Oh, shit,” he said softly. “My rifle.
Shit.
”

Looming above them, the huge animal had the advantage. If he leaped the very impact of his weight would cause at least one of them injury, his feral teeth compounding the damage in short order. They were helpless, their only defense—the rifle—lying several feet away, well beyond quick reach. It also occurred to Loni that the female wolf might be behind them. She felt chilled, even with the hot water sluicing over her skin.

But the wolf didn't leap. Instead he lowered his noble head and appeared to drop something—a dark, shapeless something—on the rocks at his feet. Then he retreated a step and whined softly, almost as if he were inviting them to come see what he'd left. Loni was too terrified to move, and her heart lurched into her throat when Clint cut through the water, climbed onto the ledge, and braced his hands at the edge of the pool to lean in close.

After a taut silence, during which Loni's pulse went
whoosh-whoosh-whoosh
in her ears, Clint said, “Thanks, buddy.”

The wolf whirled and vanished into the shadows, becoming a part of the darkness so quickly that he might never have been there at all.

“Wh-what is it?” she asked thinly.

“Meat.”

“What?”

“Meat.”
Clint turned. His white teeth glimmered in a grin. “Deer, from the looks of it. He must have had some luck hunting today.”

Scarcely able to believe her ears, Loni paddled across the pool to scramble up onto the ledge beside him. Peering through the gloom, she laughed shakily. “It
is
meat. Why on earth would he bring it here?”

Clint slipped an arm around her waist and drew her close against him. Pressing his face against her wet hair, he said, “We gave them food, possibly saved their pups. I think it's his way of saying thank-you.” With a muffled laugh, he added, “We can't very well eat the meat. God knows how filthy it may be. But we can take it back to camp with us and toss it on the fire. That way he'll smell it cooking and know we've accepted his offering.”

He'd no sooner finished speaking than a high-pitched, mournful howl came to them from the darkness. This time Loni had no doubt that the animal truly was saying good-bye. It made her feel sad and happy, both at once. Her encounter with the huge creatures had taught her an invaluable lesson: that as dangerous and feral as they could be, they also had undeniably beautiful and noble spirits, making them a species worth protecting. As Clint had said, if men could travel to the moon, they could surely find a way to live in harmony with one of God's most beautiful creations, the gray wolf.

O
nce back at camp, Loni lay with Clint on their sleeping bags by the fire, content simply to be in his arms. There were things she wanted to say to him, mainly that she'd never dreamed it possible for anything between a man and a woman to be so wonderful. She felt happy in the strangest places. Even the tips of her toes felt as if they were glowing.

But once they started talking, reality would push its way between them, and though it was selfish, she wanted to protect this moment and savor it—just for a little while.

In the end, though, she was the first to break the silence. “Are you feeling guilty? About what we did, I mean.”

He smiled against her hair and tightened his arms around her. “I'm a
Catholic
, and you ask if I feel guilty?”

Loni giggled. It was good to be with someone who would always understand her religious quirks. “We had good intentions.”

“I'll stress that to Father Mike when I go to confession. ‘I had good intentions, Father. I don't know how the hell it happened when we both had our clothes on.'”

“I'm sure he'll understand.”

“Oh, yeah. He's a good man, down-to-earth, and knows I'm only human. I'm just afraid he'll make me say five hundred rosaries as my penance.”

“Five
hundred
?”

“A gross exaggeration, but the man
does
believe in the power of prayer.”

Loni giggled again. “You'll live through it. We'll say our rosaries together. How's that?”

“Just so long as you don't wear a wet T-shirt. I'm afraid I might jump you between decades.”

She succumbed to helpless laughter again. “Just
saying
that is sacrilegious. I'd
never
leave off saying Hail Marys to have sex.”

“I'm glad to hear one of us has some fortitude. I sure as hell can't count on mine.” He grew quiet for a moment. “All joking aside, I don't regret what happened between us, Loni. It was the most beautiful and perfect experience of my whole life.”

“Mine, too.” She pressed her nose to the V of bare skin at the open collar of his shirt. She loved the smell of him, a wondrous combination of male musk, leather, pine, and horses. “I know we should have waited, and I wish I'd had more willpower, and I
definitely
think we should try to be good from here on out. But I love you too much to have any serious regrets.”

“There is one thing I'm a trifle worried about,” he said softly.

“What's that?”

“I didn't use any protection. It never even entered my mind. You could be pregnant with my child.”

Loni's stomach lurched. She was new to sexual intimacy and hadn't thought about using any kind of protection either. “Oh, Clint.”

“What?” He stiffened. “You're not unhappy about the possibility, are you?”

“No,
no
, never that. The thought of having your baby fills me with joy. It's just that everything has happened so fast. I'd hoped to give you some time to really think about things when we go home. If I'm pregnant, I'm afraid you may feel obligated to marry me regardless of any misgivings.”

“Misgivings? I'll never have any. If you're pregnant we'll go through the fastest marriage preparation course in history and get married lickety-split. Unless, of course, you're having second thoughts.”

“I'm not having second thoughts. I
love
you. I think I have all my life. It's just…”

“Just what?”

“My gift. After the Cheryl Blain incident I decided marriage to anyone was totally out of the question for me.”

“That's crazy, sweetheart. You're young and beautiful and sweet. Any man on earth would count himself lucky to have you in his life.”

“But what if it starts all over again? Reporters and frantic parents hounding me, and by extension also hounding you?”

“That won't happen. Trust me, Loni. We're meant to be together. We'll find a way to make it work.” His voice went thick and tight. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I don't think I could live through it.”

Loni closed her eyes against a rush of tears, for she felt exactly the same way.

Before settling in for the night Clint watched Loni go to her saddlebags and draw Boo from a pouch. Sitting well away from him at the opposite side of the fire, she crossed herself and prayed for a while. Then she took the stuffed bear into her hands, held it over her heart, and closed her eyes. Soon she was smiling tenderly, and Clint knew she was no longer with him, but with Trevor and Nana instead.

After a few minutes passed she looked across the leaping flames at him. “That Nana has to be the most wonderful dog in the world.”

Clint wondered how he'd come to love another person so much that her happiness had become his happiness, but that was exactly how he felt. Loni's smile made him feel as if everything was right in his world. “More wonderful than Hannah?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hannah excluded, of course.”

“So what is the fabulous Nana doing now?”

“She's curled around Trevor, keeping him as warm as a little bug in a fur rug. The remains of a squirrel and rabbit are lying by the fire, so they clearly enjoyed supper.” She arched a fine brow. “I wonder how on earth a big, lumbering dog like her catches all those animals. And she's essentially a city dog, to boot.”

“Size and agility have little to do with a dog's hunting prowess. Ranch dogs are usually pretty agile, and I've seldom seen one outrun a rabbit or squirrel. They catch them with intelligence and cunning more times than not, by running them to ground, feinting to instill terror in the prey, and watching all the escape routes. As for city dog versus country dog, all dogs can hunt. It's instinctive.”

“Hmm.” She shrugged. “Well, I'm definitely glad of Nana's hunting skills.” Her smile faded. “I'm not certain, but I think the snack foods are all gone. All along I've seen him eating things Nana caught but also occasional goodies, like a candy bar or corn chips. Tonight I saw nothing like that.”

“We knew from the first that the packaged stuff wouldn't last for more than a few days. And no worries, right? Nana's proven herself to be an accomplished huntress.”

Loni nodded, returned Boo to the saddlebag, and rejoined Clint on their sleeping bags. “Time is running out, though,” she said softly. “I feel it in my bones.”

Clint gathered her close. They had unzipped their sleeping bags to create flat quilts, one for under them, the other for on top. He drew the thick folds of the upper layer over them to keep her warm. “I'm hoping we'll catch up to him tomorrow.”

“What if we have no phone reception when we find him? We've ridden so far getting here. If I'm right and Trevor is going to get hurt, how on earth will we get him to help?”

“Let's hope we can call out when we find him, and then get him to an open area where a helicopter can land to pick him up.”

“And if we have no phone reception?”

“Then we'll ride like hell.”

“But it's so far.”

“Going back the way we came, yeah, but we'll go the way a crow flies. The highway we took to the main trailhead continues north and then northeast, weaving through the mountains. We'll ride due west to tie into it. It'll be steep and very hard on the horses, but I can't let myself worry about that. There's a small community called Wagon Wheel that isn't all that far from where we are tonight. Ten miles, maybe. It's an outdoor-recreation hub, both winter and summer, so they've set up a small emergency clinic there with a helicopter pad.”

“You've been thinking about this.”

“Ever since you told me about seeing blood in your visions. One good thing is that I have training. Working with horses is potentially dangerous, especially when someone makes stupid mistakes, the big problem being that you never know for certain how inept someone may be until he messes up and gets hurt. With my ranch being so far from town, I wanted to know what to do in case someone needed emergency medical care, so I took classes and became a certified first responder. Then, with my dad growing older, I decided that wasn't enough, so I took courses out at the college to become an EMT. It's a pain in the butt to remain certified, but worth it in the long run. I brought my first-aid satchel. I've also got heaps of stuff for the horses. Hopefully I'll have everything I need to care for Trevor until we can get him help.”

“I'm feeling better already.”

“Good. You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow may be one hell of a day.”

He left her for a few minutes to check on the horses. When he returned he added wood to the fire and then rejoined her in bed. As he gathered her into his arms, Loni sighed with contentment. She fell asleep with a smile, knowing deep in her heart that she was exactly where God meant for her to be, in Clint Harrigan's arms.

After a final cup of coffee the next morning, Loni once again took Boo from her saddlebag and held the bear close to her heart. When the white light flashed, obscuring her vision for a moment, she was prepared for it. The next instant she was with Trevor and Nana. The Saint Bernard sat beside the child, her muzzle smeared with blood, while Trevor skinned a rabbit that the dog had apparently just caught.

“I don't really like rabbit without my mom here to cook it,” Trevor told her. “I wish we had some salt to make it taste better.”

Nana whined and then went, “Woof!” Her jowls dripped reddish pink drool as she watched Trevor prepare their breakfast.

“I guess dogs like rabbit without salt better than boys do.” He sighed and made a face. “It's better than being hungry, though. I'm glad Daddy taught me how to skin one.” His small mouth quivered, and he blinked away tears. “He'd be really proud of us, huh, Nana? We're doing everything just like he said.”

The dog barked again, as if in agreement. When the small animal was cleaned Trevor spitted it on a branch that he'd shaved clean with his knife. Then he rested the spit on two Y-shaped sticks that he'd driven into the ground at either side of the fire pit.

“We need wood,” he informed Nana as he dug through one of the packs. When he found a small double-edged ax, he took off through the trees with Nana at his heels until he came upon a large limb that lay on the forest floor. “This is dry. It'll make a good fire.”

With surprising skill the little boy began chopping the wood, striking the cut again and again at the same angle until he separated a foot-long piece of wood from the limb. Then he began the process all over again. Only the second time he swung the hatchet, it hit the wood and bounced back, striking his left shoulder. He cried out and grabbed his arm. Loni saw blood oozing through his jacket to collect in crimson lines between his fingers.

“Uh-oh, Nana.” He made a shrill, whimpering sound. “Uh-oh.”

The dog began to bark and run in circles around the child. Trevor staggered to his feet, still holding his shoulder. Nana continued to bark and circle him all the way back to their small camp.

Ready to ride, Clint went to put out their fire. He'd already kicked some dirt on the feeble flames when he glanced up and saw the stricken look on Loni's face. She held Boo clutched to her breasts. Her eyes sparkled with tears. Her mouth twisted and quivered.

“Loni? Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

No answer. Clint realized she wasn't with him, and his gut clenched. Her expression clearly told him that she was seeing something terrible. He circled the fire to crouch down in front of her. It was eerie to watch the light come back into her eyes as she left the vision and returned to him. He saw her hands slowly relax around the stuffed bear.

“It's happened,” she told him with a sob. “The ax. It bounced back off a limb and laid his shoulder open.” Dropping the bear, she grabbed the front of his shirt. “Oh,
God
, Clint. He's bleeding. He's bleeding bad! He tried using pressure, but he can't make it stop.”

Clint clutched her wrists. “Okay, okay, sweetheart. Panicking won't help him. Can you describe the area he's in?”

“There are rocks. A tall wall of rocks, kind of like here. He's still by the creek.”

Clint shoved to his feet. “Let's ride.” He began kicking dirt onto the fire. “Don't forget Boo. We may need him.”

Loni ran to her horse, put the bear into a saddlebag, then mounted up with amazing speed for a woman who'd been riding for only a few days.

When Clint had finished smothering the fire, he hurried to Malachi and mounted up himself. “Let's go!” he shouted.

He whistled to the horses as he nudged Malachi into a trot. With a child bleeding to death somewhere up ahead, he didn't allow himself to worry about one of the horses having a wreck in the deadfall. A piece of him would die if he had to shoot one of his animals. Just the thought made his blood run cold. But Trevor's life was far more important.