This Fierce Splendor

21

“Elspeth. Come, love, wake up.”

It was Dominic’s voice, but somehow different, vibrating with eagerness and laughter. She drowsily opened her eyes. His face was different too. He was laughing down at her, his eyes alight with the joy of life, and in the moment between sleeping and waking she knew that something in him had come right; a gift taken away from him had been returned.

“Is it morning?” she asked.

“No. But it’s time.”

“Time for what?” Her gaze ran over him lovingly. The fire had burned low, bathing him in a shadowy glow that glinted in the darkness of his hair and turned the bronze of his skin to copper.

“Time to further your education as a hetaera.” His eyes were dancing. “I believe you expressed a willingness to learn new skills.” He pulled her to a sitting position. “Well, one of the first things you must learn is to adapt yourself to your lord and master’s whims.”

“Indeed?”

He nodded as he carefully wrapped her in her plaid. “Oh, yes, that’s most important.”

“And what whim is this?”

“One I’ve been thinking about since the night I brought you back to Hell’s Bluff from Jim’s cabin.” He gathered her up in his arms, ducked from beneath the shelter of the lean-to, and stood up. “We’re going for a little ride.”

Her eyes widened. “In the middle of the night?”

“Why not?” He strode toward Blanco, standing saddled and waiting a few yards away. “The rain has stopped and there’s moonlight.”

“We’re not dressed,” she protested in bewilderment. She was wrapped only in the plaid and he was as gloriously naked as he had been when he had made love to her earlier in the evening.

He chuckled. “I’ll have no problem and you have your fine MacGregor plaid to keep you warm.” He stopped, leaned down, and kissed her with infinite sweetness. “And I promise I’ll do everything possible to help. You’re not going to refuse me?”

How could she refuse him when he looked so endearingly boyish? “No,” she said softly. “It’s daft, but if it’s what you want-”

“It’s definitely what I want.” He kissed her again, quick and hard, and lifted her onto the saddle. “Among other things.” With one spring he was behind her, kicking the horse into a trot.

The moon cast a silver half light on the hard rocky trail once they had left the shadowy grove, and Elspeth found herself in a strange, mystical world. A warm gray mist was rising from the earth to wreathe around them and veil the spiky tops of the tall pine trees on either side of the trail. She felt as if they were alone in a wild secret garden at the beginning of time, when anything was possible and nothing was forbidden.

Dominic’s warm breath was brushing her ear and his arms formed a deliciously secure haven around her. The breeze touching her cheeks and tugging at her hair was cool but not chill, bringing with it the heady scent of pine and rich damp earth. She suddenly found herself filled with wild exhilaration. “Do these whims strike you often? This is completely mad, you know.”

“Is it?” His teeth gently nibbled on the lobe of her ear.

A tingle of heat ran through her. “Yes.”

“I admit this is the first time this particular whim has occurred to me.” His hands were parting the tartan, slipping beneath the wool to cup her bare breasts. “But I won’t promise it will be the last.” His thumb and forefinger plucked at the sensitive nipples. “Does this please you?”

Fire, an aching throbbing between her thighs. “Yes, I… think so.”

He laughed softly as he enveloped her breasts in his hands and lifted them high. “Only think?”

“It makes me feel odd… almost hurting. I suppose that’s natural though.”

“Where do you hurt?” One hand left her breasts and moved down to her taut stomach to rub gently. “Here?”

The muscles went rigid beneath his fingertips. “Yes.”

His hand shifted lower and tangled in her soft curls. “Here?”

“Yes.”

He tilted her back against him and his fingers wandered down to delicately circle and rub, his thumb pressing skillfully. “Here?”

She couldn’t breathe, she was throbbing, burning. She wanted him within her. What were they doing on this stupid horse when they could be wrapped in each other’s arms as they had been only a few hours before? “Shouldn’t we be getting back?”

“You didn’t answer me.” His thumb pressed harder.

“Yes, but we’re on-”

“I don’t like you to hurt, love. I feel it my husbandly duty to rid you of the pain.” He shifted back on the saddle, rolled the tartan from her body, then grasped her beneath the arms, lifted her high into the air, and swung her around to face him.

She was wide-eyed with astonishment, and couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it.

His hands cupped her buttocks, lifted her, and he slowly slid into her, filling her. She forgot where they were, she forgot everything but the feel of him. She closed her eyes, her head thrown back, her breath coming in little pants.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he muttered. “Hold me.”

She promptly did so and could feel Dominic’s heart pounding against her breasts; his chest, rising and falling with every breath, brushed hard against her aroused nipples.

He brought her closer still and she could feel the prickle of the pelt surrounding his manhood brush that most sensitive part of her. She moaned, clutching helplessly at his shoulders. “Dominic.”

“Hold on, love.” He kicked the horse into a gallop.

The pounding.

The supple leather of the saddle beat against their flesh, driving her deeper onto the warm sword of his manhood. Elspeth felt a wild scream building within her, wanting to be let out.

Dominic arched her against him, bending his mouth to envelope her breast, suckling, biting. She sobbed. The arousal was too intense, the brand within her too hot, too hard. The pressure on her bottom too rhythmic, too pounding. Her head felt as if it were exploding, each single hair on her head burning, streaming out behind her in lightning flames of sensation.

It went on forever. Timeless. The hunger built, the pounding built, the fever built. The horse ran faster. Her hair was going to be torn from her head by the wind. Dominic’s breath was a half sob in her ear.

“Now!” The word was spoken between Dominic’s clenched teeth. “Now!”

Yes, now, Elspeth thought wildly. It had to be now or she would be lost forever in this maelstrom of heat and hunger.

She screamed, a sound harsh with primeval satisfaction as now came into pagan, magnificent being.

She collapsed against Dominic, her head cradled on his chest, struggling to get her breath. He cupped the back of her head with one hand as he reined the stallion to a walk with the other. As soon as she thought she could speak without gasping, she lifted her head to look up at him. He was as breathless as she, but he was smiling down at her with tenderness and that same touch of boyish mischief she had noticed before. “Shouldn’t I move?”

He looked down at their joining and flexed lazily within her. He turned the stallion. “Why? Don’t you like where you are now?”

The color flooded her cheeks. “Yes, but I thought… isn’t it finished now?”

He laughed softly. “Oh, no, it’s only beginning. Blanco has a hell of a lot of paces for us to try. Now we have to ride back to camp. I think you may enjoy that every bit as much, my love.” He kicked the stallion into a lope. She gasped as the jarring rhythm rocked through her. “Yes, every bit as much.”

The fire beneath the lean-to was reduced to glowing embers when Dominic laid Elspeth down on the blanket. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him dreamily as he knelt and put fresh wood on the fire. Then he was beside her, gathering her close, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulled her head back to kiss her gently. “Are you tired?”

She shook her head. “It was very…” She searched for the correct word. “Stimulating.”

He chuckled. “I’m in complete agreement. You’re a constant astonishment to me, my lovely hetaera.”

The smile faded from her lips and she glanced away from him into the depths of the fire. “You don’t have to say that.”

“Say what?”

“I mean, you don’t have to pay me compliments. I think it’s better if we’re honest with each other. I’m well aware that I’m a plain woman.”

He stared at her with blank amazement. It seemed a century since those first days when he had actually believed Elspeth plain. He couldn’t even remember why he had thought it to begin with. Even masked by her spectacles and shrouded in those hideous gowns, he should have been able to see the beauty that was Elspeth. He had a vague recollection of her making some such comment before and he realized now that she could not see her own beauty. Her father had been such a bastard that he’d stolen her pride in the person she was inside and out. “Did your father say you were plain?”

“Of course.” She didn’t look at him. “But I always knew it anyway. I have a mirror.”

“I wonder what you see in it. Is it what your father saw? No, it couldn’t be that, because then there would be no reflection.” His thumb and forefinger were beneath her chin, turning her face so he could look into her eyes. “Because he was a blind man, Elspeth. Blinded by cruelty, selfishness, and his own ugliness of spirit. You didn’t believe him when he told you there was no Kantalan, why should you believe him when he told you that you had no beauty?”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Then think about it now. Do you know what I see when I look at you?” He tugged at a lock of her hair. “This glows and shimmers with light every time you turn your head.” His fingertips brushed her cheekbones. “Your skin is so soft I want to reach out and touch it every time you’re within ten feet of me.” His index finger stroked the curve of her brow. “And your eyes as green as the shamrocks my mother used to tell me about. Lovely eyes.”

“Not… ugly?”

“No. Beautiful.” The words were spoken in a tone only a level above a whisper. “Every bit of you is beautiful. Believe me, Elspeth. Your father lied to you. All I see is strength and beauty.”

Joy cascaded through her, rippling, forming circles of radiance. It was difficult to believe him, but there was nothing but honesty in the eyes looking into her own. “I think you may be a wee bit blind yourself,” she said with a shaky smile. “But I like your mirror better than I do my own.” She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes and she quickly closed her lids to hide them.

Gentleness, kindness, laughter. Every moment he revealed another quality to love, presented her with another gift to enrich her spirit. Oh, and she did love him. She brimmed, flowed, and floated with her love for him. But it was all too much to think about after what had gone before. “I think it’s time we went to sleep. Unless you have any more whims you wish me to indulge.”

She could feel his gaze on her face for a long moment before his lips brushed her closed lids with velvet tenderness. “I think I’ve run out of whims for the moment.” But not out of love, he thought. He knew now he would never run out of love for her. His love for Elspeth was as much a part of him as his yearning for Killara. “Go to sleep, Elspeth.” He settled down beside her and drew her into his arms. “Sweet dreams, love.”

But they would not be dreams of Kantalan, she thought drowsily, they would be dreams of Dominic and the expression in his eyes when he had called her beautiful.

Rising Star threw back her head, and her throaty laughter rang out. “Patrick, you fool, why don’t you come into the water? I may be huge, but I’m not taking quite all of this pond.”

Patrick shook his head, his gaze on the tops of the trees on the opposite bank. “Maybe later,” he muttered. “I’ll go set up camp. Don’t stay in the water too long.” He turned on his heel and strode quickly off into the trees.

A faint frown crossed Rising Star’s face. Patrick was embarrassed. It had not occurred to her that Patrick would act like this when they had discovered this tiny pond in the foothills. After traveling the harsh desert country for the past weeks, the little oasis had been too inviting for her to resist. She had stripped off her clothes and slipped into the cool water as matter-of-factly as if Patrick had been the child she had known when she first came to Killara. She had forgotten he was now eighteen and possessed a white man’s shame of nudity.

Still, it was a reaction she would never have expected in the Patrick who had ridden beside her, joking and filling the hours with laughter for the last two weeks. Without Patrick she might have fallen into a darkness of spirit that would have had no dawn. He had not permitted her to step into that void. Every time he had detected any sign of sadness or weariness, he had been there with a comment or a droll expression, taking away the ache before it could sharpen and become pain. He had been so kind and she really should not have laughed at him when he had refused to come into the water with her.

She waded out of the water, picked up the white cotton cloth she had left on the bank, and dried herself as thoroughly as possible. If Patrick had not displayed that unusual shyness, she would have remained naked and let the breeze and the last rays of the setting sun complete the drying. Instead, she hurriedly put on her blue calico skirt and leather tunic and sat down on the grass to pull on her moccasins.

“Coffee’s on,” Patrick called loudly, making a good deal of noise as he walked through the underbrush. An expression of relief brightened his face as he appeared on the bank and saw her. “You’re almost dressed. That’s good. I was afraid you’d be-cool,” he finished lamely.

Naked was the word he’d intended to use, she thought as she lowered her head to hide her smile of amusement. “Except for my moccasins.” She made a face. “I can’t see over my stomach to put them on.”

“Let me help.” He dropped to his knees and took the moccasins out of her hands. “You should have told me these were causing you trouble before. I’ll put them on for you every morning.” He picked up her foot and slipped the soft cream-colored leather onto it, then rolled it up her calf. He smoothed the leather with his hands and picked up the other moccasin. His cheeks were flushed and his words tumbled over each other. “I can see how you would have trouble. I don’t know how you women manage to-”

“Patrick,” she interrupted gently. “Look at me.”

He kept his gaze fixed stubbornly on the moccasin as he pulled it over her ankle and then up her calf.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” she said softly. “I sometimes forget you are white and not Indian. You seemed so much like the child I used to know that I-”

“I’m not a child.” His voice was hoarse as he pulled down her calico skirt. He sat back on his heels, still looking at the moccasins on her feet.

“I know that.” What words could she choose that would not offend his pride? “I suppose I needed to go back to that other time when I was so happy and tried to fool myself that things were the same. Forgive me.”

“It’s all right. I wanted you to forget about-” He broke off. “Not about Josh. Just what had made you unhappy. I’d never want you to forget about Josh.” He raised his head to look at her.

A ripple of shock robbed her of breath. Oh, no, please God, no, Rising Star prayed silently. Not Patrick. But she had seen that expression too many times in her own mirror not to recognize it when she saw it. The stunning surprise showed on her face, and she knew he could read the realization in her own expression.

He drew a deep breath. “Don’t be afraid. It won’t make any difference. I promise you I won’t bother you.”

“Patrick…”

“No, no,” he said urgently. “I tell you we can go on just the way we were.”

When she knew the pain he was going through? “How long have you felt this way?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Always, I guess. At least it seems that way.”

Oh, God, why couldn’t there be any justice? It wasn’t fair Patrick must suffer too. “You’ll have to go away.”

“No!” The answer was violent. “I won’t leave you. I know you can’t love me, but it won’t hurt anything for you to let me take care of you. You need someone to help you, and you won’t go back to Josh.”

She smiled sadly. “It will hurt you. I know how much it can hurt, Patrick.”

“Because you’ve been hurt?” He drew closer and took her left hand in both of his. “But this is different. I know there’s no hope you could love anyone but Josh.” He forced a smile. “Think of me as one of those knights in the books you used to read to us. They never expected anything from their ladies, just to carry their favors and fight a pesky dragon now and then. I think I’d be a rip-snorting wonder as a dragon fighter, don’t you?”

She was unbearably moved. Kneeling before her, the last rays of sunlight setting his auburn hair aflame, his young face grave, he could well have been Galahad from that time of courtly love. “Oh, yes, a great dragon fighter.”

He smiled again, this time with the beguiling mischief that was so much a part of him. “And every lady needs a knight when she goes journeying. Why not me?”

She hesitated. Would it be too selfish of her to let him stay with her until they reached Kantalan? He had filled the days with warmth and laughter, and she desperately needed that laughter. “Patrick, I don’t know.”

“I do.” He gave her hand a brisk squeeze and released it. “I’m going with you. Maybe if I find enough treasure to buy myself one of those Oriental dancing girls, I’ll forget all about you. Did you ever think about that?”

“No, I never did.”

“Well, it’s something you should consider.” He stood up and lifted her to her feet with easy strength. “I’m not going to moon after you forever. It won’t hurt you to put up with me for a little while longer. Just until I know you’re safe and happy again. You’ll probably think it over and go back to Josh once we get back from Kantalan.”

She slowly shook her head. “I do love you, Patrick, but it will never be the same as what I feel for Joshua.”

“I keep telling you, I don’t expect you to give me anything.” He smiled and his hard young face was suddenly lit with a gentle beauty. “I’ll be satisfied if you just take. All right?”

“No, it is not all right,” she said quietly. “But we’ll continue to Kantalan together. After that we’ll talk again.”

He let his breath out in a sigh of relief. “Fair enough.” He picked up the cotton cloth she had used to dry herself. “Now we’d better get back to camp before that coffee boils away.” He took her elbow and turned her in the direction from which he had come. His touch was light but protective.

The glow of pleasure she received from that touch gave her a fleeting moment of misgiving. Then she dismissed it. It was surely natural for her to find joy in Patrick’s companionship after the loneliness she had known. She turned to smile at him. “Thank you for helping me with my moccasins.”

“Putting them on you kind of reminded me of the trick I played on Cort when we were on that trail drive two years ago.” He grinned. “When he was asleep I bored a hole in each of his boots and then strung a piece of rawhide through…” His words rambled on, his tone easy and humorous, but that protective clasp never left her arm until they reached the camp.

There were rain clouds on the horizon.

Ramon Torres frowned as he paused at the crest of the hill. Bad luck. The rain would wash away the signs of Dominic and his gringa and he would probably not be able to find them again for a day or so. He had hoped to catch up to them by the end of the week when he had stopped at Rosario and learned they were only two days ahead of him.

Oh, well, he had been fortunate that the weather had held as long as it had. He would try to make it as far as he could on Dominic’s trail before the rain came. Then he would wait out the storm and have time to sit before the fire and dream the death dream. He had been pushing so hard, he had been too tired to give himself that pleasure of late. Perhaps the deity guiding all hunters had intervened to remind him that his thirst would be whetted only if he took time to anticipate.

After all, what were a few days when the kill was so near?