Affair of the Heart (12 page)

“Okay.” He swung with easy grace into his own saddle and moved his horse alongside hers. “Let’s go, then,” he said.

He was silent as they moved away from the ranch buildings, riding beside her, easy and indolent in the saddle. Caroline was silent too, content to be with him sharing the lovely morning, the breathtaking landscape. They had gone perhaps fifteen minutes before he turned to her with a little smile. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who doesn’t talk all the time.”

“I can,” she replied serenely. “I can chatter like a magpie if I have to. But I’ll admit it can be pretty wearing—on both the talker and the talkee.”

He grinned. “I never thought of it that way, exactly.”

“Don’t you like to talk?”

“Sure I like to talk, but not all the time. That’s something a lot of people don’t seem to understand. And not just women, either. They seem to think that if they’re not talking every minute their tongues are going to shrivel up and fall out of their heads. They feel this need to keep them constantly lubricated.”

Caroline laughed. “Well, you sure must have had a lot of quiet when you went out after that lion.”

“Yeah. It was nice.” He flicked a very blue glance her way. “But it’s nice to get home again, too. A man can have too much solitude, too much of his own company.” She didn’t say anything, and he went on, a little unwillingly, “I was sorry not to have seen you before I left. I wanted to apologize to you for what I said. It was on my mind the whole time—the look on your face.”

“Well, you have apologized,” she said gently.

“It was on my mind,” he repeated. Then, “Sometimes I say and do things I don’t mean.” He looked troubled. “Usually, I can keep my temper, but sometimes ...” He straightened a little in the saddle. “We’re almost there. You okay?”

“Fine.” Her voice was very soft. He had apologized obliquely for more than just his words to her, and she understood that perfectly. “I hope the water isn’t too cold,” she said, and he flashed her a boyish grin.

“Can’t be colder than the ocean in Maine,” he said, and she laughingly agreed.

The spring was lovely, set in among the mountains, clear as crystal under the high blue sky. It was very cold. Caroline tested it with her foot before she stripped down to her bathing suit, and she gave a squeak of dismay as the water lapped around her toes. Jay was beside her as she looked up, wide-eyed with shock. “It’s freezing!”

He put his own toe in. They were both barefoot but still in dungarees. “A little chilly,” he conceded.

“We’ll eat first,” Caroline said firmly. “Once I get wet we’ll have to get moving to warm me up.”

“Let’s eat then,” he said, and, picking her up, he carried her easily back to where their saddles lay on the grass.

They ate their lunch, and presently a group of deer came down to the spring to drink. They stayed perfectly still, watching the graceful animals, which didn’t seem to be aware of any human presence. After the deer had left, Caroline let out her breath as if she had been holding it.

“Yes,” said Jay softly. “I know.” He turned a little on his elbow to look at her. “You love animals, don’t you, Cara?” His long length was stretched out in the grass, his eyes narrowed a little against the sun.

She put her own arms around her knees. “Yes.”

She hesitated, glanced at him, then said, “In fact, I once thought of becoming a vet.”

He plucked a blade of grass and began to chew on it. “What stopped you?”

“Oh, a lot of things, I suppose. I actually sent for the Tufts and Cornell graduate-school applications and catalogs, but I had the wrong undergraduate major and then I got engaged.”

“It’s tougher to get into veterinary medicine than it is to get into regular med school.”

“I know.” She rested her cheek on her updrawn knees. “I never told anyone I had sent for those applications.”

“Why not?”

“Oh ...” She stared at the grass at her feet. “I suppose I didn’t think anyone would take me seriously.” She flashed a brief smile. “It didn’t exactly fit my image.”

He grinned. “Glamour puss,” he said and sat up. Then he did a surprising thing. He reached for her hand and held it out in front of them both. She stared at it for a minute, that firm, capable, boy’s hand of hers, and then turned to look at him.

“That hand has nothing frivolous about it,” he said to her. “That could very easily be the hand of a doctor.” He looked at her very seriously. “You just didn’t want it enough.”

“I guess so.”

He returned her hand to her knee. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get this lunch packed up.”

They tidied up the remains of their picnic, and Jay went to put the leftovers in his saddlebag. Then he came back to her and lay down again. This time he put his head in her lap.

“Tell me about the hunting trip,” she said softly.

He half closed his eyes, relaxed and sleepy in the sun, and began to talk. He talked to her as he had talked to no one else—not about the danger but about the beauty, the mystery, of that solitary five days. She listened and watched his unguarded face and was astonished by the change in him. He didn’t look more than eighteen as he lay there, his brown head in her lap, his eyelashes long and dark and thick against his cheeks. Was this peaceful boy the man who had said such bitter things to her, whose anger had reduced her to tears and trembling on the hotel terrace in Sheridan? Where had that man gone? she wondered. And when would he come back again?

It was a disturbing thought, and one she banished instantly from her mind. For almost the first time since she had known him, they were at peace together. She wanted to hold on to it, to catch this moment in her hands and savor it, not spoil it with fears for the future. She looked down at his dreamy face, and he opened his eyes and smiled at her. At that look, everything inside her seemed to melt. She ran her fingers gently through his hair and struggled to deal with the strange new emotion that filled her heart. It still did not seem real, the fact that everything in the world that would ever matter to her was lying right here with his head in her lap. He reached up and caught her hand, then drew it down to his mouth. At the touch of his lips she felt a shiver go through her. He released her hand, sat up, and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Are you going swimming now?” she asked a little unsteadily.

His eyes were bluer than the high Wyoming sky. “Actually,” he said, “I had something else in mind.”

With a supreme effort she kept her face expressionless. “Oh?”

He stripped off his shirt, and she regarded his shoulders and chest with detached approval. “I take it back,” she told him. “Without your shirt you do look like a football player.”

He reached over and began to unbutton hers. “Let’s see what you look like,” he said.

“I look like a swimmer,” she replied smartly, and, pulling away from him, she stood up. Under her clothes she was wearing a lime-green one-piece bathing suit that fit like a second skin. She looked fabulous in it, and she knew it. She kicked off her jeans and laughed down at him. “I came for some therapy, remember?”

He looked down the long slender length of her to the bandaged ankle. He sank back down and put his arms around his knees. He hadn’t taken off his jeans yet. “Go right ahead,” he said amiably. “I’ll watch.”

“Chicken,” she said and began to walk slowly down toward the spring.

She didn’t hear him until he had scooped her off her feet and up into his arms. She yelped in surprise and grabbed him around the neck for support. He ignored her and went striding on toward the spring. He had taken off his jeans and was wearing a pair of light-blue bathing trunks. “Jay,” she said threateningly, “don’t you dare throw me in that water.”

He reached the edge of the spring and waded out until he was up to his knees. He looked down into her face. “What will you give me if I don’t?” he asked.

His head was very close to hers, and she noticed again how beautifully shaped his mouth was, how silky his straight brown hair. “Anything you want,” she answered him softly, and her gray-green eyes were smoky with promise.

A small smile curved the line of the mouth she was watching. “Well, in that case ...” And he lowered her carefully onto her feet. She yelped again at the coldness of the water.

“Chicken,” he said, and, wading out a little farther, he dove in and began to swim. For a minute Caroline watched the powerful strokes of his bare brown arms, and then she gritted her teeth and dove in as well.

“I will say this,” she told him when they stood together on the shore some ten minutes later, “it doesn’t get warmer the longer you’re in. It gets colder!”

“And I thought you were a tough Maine girl,” he said scornfully.

“You don’t think the people who
live
in Maine go into that water, do you?” she asked incredulously. “It’s only the crazy tourists who do that.”

He chuckled. “Come on and I’ll towel you dry.” She limped beside him up to where their things were spread out, and, true to his word, he picked up a towel and began to dry her vigorously. She was shivering a little with chill. “What you need to do is get out of this suit,” he said, and, putting his fingers on the straps, he expertly pulled the suit down to her waist.

“Jay!” she protested, laughing, and he took her competently into his arms.

“Cara!” he said mockingly and began to kiss her.

When he lowered her to the ground she went easily, watching him as he stripped off his trunks, her senses deeply stirred by the sight of his lean brown body. The blanket was rough under her back, the sun warm on her bare breasts. He put his hands on her bathing suit, and she let him pull it all the way off her. She was so much in love with him that the thought of denial never crossed her mind. Her arms went up to circle him, and her lips parted under his. It was a very long kiss, full of sweetness and slowly building passion. Caroline moved her hands along his bare back, caressing the smooth brown skin with her fingers, feeling the strength of the hard muscles. Her mouth under his was passionate yet exquisitely yielding. He moved his lips along the hollow of her throat. The fiercely passionate caress seemed to burn her flesh.

“Jay,” she breathed as his mouth moved lower, moved toward the swelling fullness of her breasts. She buried her hands in his thick hair and closed her eyes against the brilliance of the sun and of her own flaming response to him.

He said her name, and she opened her eyes to look into his. Their faces were very close, and she could feel the evidence of his desire pressed against her.

“Darling,” she said. “Oh, darling.”

He drove into her, and she shuddered with sensation, shuddered with the glory of that hard, powerful possession. How she loved to give herself up to him, give herself over to him. He was saying her name over and over, as if it were an incantation, and she lost herself in the ecstasy of his movements. The world shook and the sun splintered, and she clung to him and he to her until, finally, they came to rest together. They lay quietly for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, and Caroline was filled with a happiness so intense that it was almost unbearable.

How had she ever been so stupid as to suppose she might fall in love with Cliff or Gerald? That making love would bring love? She had known she loved Jay before he ever touched her, known, she thought now, the first time she had seen him smile. She moved her lips slowly along his collarbone. Here was her world, here in the circle of his arms. She never wanted to be anywhere else.

* * * *

They rode back to the ranch, saturated with sun and with pleasure. When they stopped the horses at the ranch house, Jay dismounted and came around to lift Caroline down. She swung her right leg across the saddle, and he put his hands on her waist. Through the cotton of her shirt their strength and hardness were unmistakable. He lifted her up into the air, and, laughing, she put her hands on his shoulders.

“So you’re back,” said a cheerful voice, and for a minute Jay and Caroline froze. Then he slowly lowered her to the ground and they both turned to face the girl on the terrace.

“Mary Anne!” said Caroline. “How—how lovely to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wanted to come all last week, but Daddy needed help in the store.” She came forward, smiling, and held her face up to Jay. “How is the hero?” she asked.

He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Fine.”

“What have you two been doing?”

Jay caught Caroline’s eye, then quickly looked away. “I took Caroline swimming. It’s good therapy for her ankle.”

“How is the ankle, Caroline?” Mary Anne’s brown eyes held real concern. “I really wanted to come out to keep you company last week, but I just couldn’t,” she repeated.

“It’s much better.” Caroline’s voice sounded shrill to her own ears.

“Well, you two girls sit down and relax,” said Jay, “and I’ll take the horses down to the barn.”

“Okay.” Mary Anne gave him a warm smile, and Caroline refused to look at him. “Come on back, though,” the dark girl continued. “I want to hear all about that mountain lion.”

“Sure,” said Jay. “Be back as soon as I get the horses settled.”

Caroline sat down on the terrace with Mary Anne and for forty-five dreadful minutes tried to make intelligent conversation. Then Jay came back and began to talk fluently of people Caroline didn’t know. Caroline listened, thinking that for a man who didn’t like to talk a lot, he could sure do a good job when he had to.

Mary Anne sat and smiled and answered and didn’t seem to have the slightest idea that anything was wrong. Couldn’t she feel the tension? Caroline thought. But apparently she could not. Caroline looked at her vividly pretty face and divined, instinctively, that Mary Anne was a virgin. She had no idea as yet of what had been between Jay and Caroline ever since their eyes had first met.

Caroline looked at her stepbrother. He had had a lot of practice as a lover, she knew that as well. But not, apparently, with Mary Anne—the girl he had said he was thinking of marrying. He was smiling lazily at her now, and her big brown eyes were fixed worshipfully on his face.

Caroline stood up. “Well, I think I’ll go take a little rest before dinner,” she said and hoped her voice sounded casual. “All this exertion has tired me out.”