Night's Landing (36 page)

He kissed her fingers. “I was real.”

“My family—it’s wonderful to have Rob home. He’s doing well. And my parents are fine. They’re resilient, already planning their return trip to Amsterdam so that Dad can finish his project there.”

“You Dunnemores and your projects.”

She laughed. “Yes, it’s true.”

“And the president?”

“He was in Night’s Landing yesterday.”

“I saw on the news.”

“He’s holding a press conference today in Washington. He’s setting the record straight on the snake story and letting reporters exhaust every possible question they have about our relationship. Honestly, when the snake thing happened, I just wanted him to be okay. None of the rest mattered. I don’t think it really did to him, either. People will think it did, but he had so much else on his mind besides who’d saved who from a water moccasin.”

Nate withdrew his hand from hers and skimmed his fingertips along her jaw, down the right side of her neck. “How’s your snakebite?”

His touch had her feeling warm again. “All healed.”

“Wes Poe’s surrogate daughter. I’ll probably be guillotined for making love to you, almost getting you killed.”

“You knew we were close when you threatened to arrest me that day in New York.”

“That’s different.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her softly. “We can’t make love up here. We’d kill ourselves on the rocks.”

She smiled. “Always so impatient.”

“Something we have in common when it comes to lovemaking, as I recall.”

She stayed put, gazing out at the surrounding mountains. “I have something I want to tell you. Wes mentioned your promotion.”

“He is the boss.”

“He said you’re taking it. I’m thrilled for you.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s this historic house in northern Virginia. Arlington, actually. It’s not far from the Marshals Service headquarters.”

He said nothing, just watched her with those incisive eyes, even bluer now, she thought, against the northern New England sky.

“It’s like the Poe house,” she went on, “a combination of private, state and federal interests. Pristine. Lots of history.”

“They need an historical archaeologist?”

She nodded. “It’s an exciting project. People say the house is haunted.”

“Not by a president, I hope.”

“Abraham Lincoln and Robert E. Lee, as it happens.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“I thought if I took on this project, then I’d be in the area and we could go on dates.”

“We could have candlelight dinners,” he said.

“That’s right. And go to movies and concerts.”

“How long do we have to date?”

Her heart jumped. “I do see why people say you’re impatient.”

“I’m patient. I’m being patient now. I’m not throwing you over my shoulder and marching down to the nearest shelter, am I?”

It was a delicious thought, but she forced herself to stick to what she’d come to Cold Ridge to say. “I have other offers. I don’t want to crowd you in your new job. But I want to find a way for us to be together that’s good for both of us.”

“It’s what I want.” He got to his feet, no indication that he was concerned he could take one wrong step and end up in a heap on the rocks. He offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet, kissing her softly. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I left you.”

“Everyone was convinced I’d fall for a charming intellectual.”

“I’m charming.”

She laughed. “That’s the other thing people say about you. ‘That Nate Winter, he’s a charmer.’—”

“Do I detect a note of sarcasm?”

“Damn it, Nate, you know what I’m saying.”

“You’re saying that
you
thought you’d fall for some weak-kneed type. No one else did. They all thought you’d fall for—”

“A hard-driving, hard-ass marshal?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “That about covers it. Can we make love after our dates? Or am I to deliver you to your door with a chaste kiss?”

“I like a little mystery and drama. Surprise me.”

They climbed back down to the trail. Sarah held his hand tightly in hers. “Nate—where—”

“Way out on the ridge.” He’d understood her question. She wanted to know where his parents had died. “Carine took up nature photography partly as a way to make her peace with our parents’ death. Her photographs of the mountains tell her whole story. Antonia went into healing. I went into catching bad guys. Get them off the street before they can hurt anyone else, themselves, the people who care about them.”

“It’s beautiful up here,” Sarah said.

“It can be deadly.”

“I’m glad I came. I’ve fallen in love with you in a very short time, and I can see now that part of the reason for it is here. Part of you is here.”

“Part of me is about to freeze off.” He winked at her. “Carine has a log cabin she uses as a studio a short walk from the trailhead. She’s got her husband with her for a few days—she won’t be using it. We can have a candlelit dinner there.”

Sarah nodded. “It sounds perfect. I’ll get to meet her?”

“Oh, yeah. If I don’t bring you by, she’ll sneak in on us.” He lifted her backpack off her shoulder and slipped it over his, adjusting the straps, not looking at her. “Don’t think I’m going repressed Yankee on you and ignoring that part about you falling in love with me.”

“Well—”

He didn’t let her go on. “Gus always said I’d fall like a rock for someone one of these days and I’d never see it coming.” He looked at her now, his expression as soft, as tender, as she’d ever seen. “He was right.”

“He’ll love that, won’t he?” She grinned at him. “About this log cabin. Does it have a fireplace?”

“Better yet, Miss Sarah. It has a bed.”

A gust of wind pushed at her back, as if propelling her down the ridge, and Nate laughed—really laughed—and showed her his shortcut.