Larger than Life (12 page)

“No,” he said quietly. There was nothing else he could say.

“It may be a long walk,” she warned, averting her eyes.

“All right.”

Travis watched her leave the cottage, a sick feeling of dread tightening in his chest. She would see Matt Preston, and he knew it.

He thought of the elusive parts of Saber, wondered dimly if he were trying to chain lightning. Was he strong enough to hold such an explosive, elemental force?

Was Matt Preston?

Swearing softly, Travis left the cottage.

Travis played a few sets of tennis with one of the other guests—who turned out to be a U.S. senator—and
won every game. Then, after showering and changing, he went up to the main house for lunch.

He found the artist.

And Matt Preston.

They were sitting together at a table near the big bay window in the dining room. Mark talking and Preston listening with a faint smile. Travis wasn’t very interested in what they were saying; their relationship seemed unimportant now.

He made his way to the table where Cory sat, eating absently while she frowned down at a sheaf of papers.

“Cory—”

She looked up, still frowning. “Linens,” she said darkly. “The prices are outrageous, and we
have
to have them, after all.”

“Cory, have you seen Saber?”

The redhead nodded. “Sure. She had the cook fix her a picnic lunch and went off with it a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh.” Travis glanced toward Preston, wondering if Saber had seen him yet. He was distracted
when a waitress came to the table to take his order and automatically sat down across from Cory as he told the girl what he wanted for lunch. Not that he wanted anything, really.

When the waitress had gone, Cory said calmly, “Your face is an open book, my friend.”

Travis had realized that Cory was the type of woman people
talked
to. The green eyes were warmly interested in everything, and she had the rare gift of being able to listen. He thought fleetingly that she probably knew secrets worth a fortune.

“Is it?” he asked lightly.

“War and Peace,”
she said, equally light.

He abandoned the pretense. “I’ve never before wanted something I couldn’t fight for.”

Cory seemed mildly surprised. “You can fight for Saber?”

“How?” he demanded. “She wants time—I’m trying to give her what she wants. She tells me there are things she can’t discuss—I’m not asking.”

“In fact,” Cory said politely, “you’re being very patient and considerate.”

Stung by the faintly derisive gleam he caught in her eyes, Travis snapped, “What else should I be?” He sat back to allow the waitress to set his plate before him, then attacked the food, wishing it were something else.

Cory was studying her iced tea with a reflective air. “Oh, I’m sure you’re doing the right thing, Travis,” she said. “Patience is a very endearing trait.”

“I don’t want to lose her,” he muttered.

“Of course not,” she said in a soothing tone.

Travis carefully laid aside his fork. “Will you
stop
agreeing with me,” he said through his teeth, “and tell me what to do?”

“What d’you want to do, Travis?” she asked.

“I want to carry her off to our cottage and—”

“I think I can fill in the blanks.” Cory gazed at him, smiling sweetly. “So what’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want to—”

“Frighten her? She’s a grown woman, you
know. Of course, it might
startle
her just a bit. Since you’ve been so forbearing, I mean. When one gets accustomed to being treated a certain way—after asking for that treatment, mind you—sometimes it’s the very devil of a problem to straighten out.” Cory gazed into space, musing.

He stared at her. “But if she’s not sure, and I push her—”

“Who said anything about pushing her? We were talking about filling in the blanks. And fighting for what one wants.”

“That isn’t pushing?”

“Travis,” she said in a courteous tone, “there is a vast difference between a caveman and a lover. And if you don’t know that at your age, there’s no hope for you.”

Unwillingly, he began to smile. “No wonder your book sold like hotcakes,” he murmured.

Cory gathered up her papers. “Never mind my book,” she said sternly. “We were discussing your anemic love life.”

“Not anemic!” he protested indignantly.

“Oh, really? My dear man, how d’you expect
Saber to know what she wants when she’s never
had
it? Your job is to make very certain she knows what she has been and would be missing,” Cory told him. “And if you can’t handle that—”

“I can,” he interrupted hastily.

Cory rose to her feet and looked down her nose at him. “We’ll see. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and order some ridiculously expensive linens.”

“Cory?” he said before she could turn away.

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Green eyes gleamed at him briefly. “Don’t mention it.” Then she was threading her way among the tables in the dining room.

Travis found he was hungry after all.

And impatient to find Saber.

Travis’s impatience grew as the day lengthened. After several hours of wandering around the grounds, he sought Cory, who was on the phone at the front desk in the main house. Judging by her
exasperated expression and silence, she was on “hold” and not too pleased about it.

She dangled the receiver in one hand as Travis approached, saying irritably, “There’s something depressing about canned music while you wait.”

“Have you seen Saber?”

“You have a one-track mind.”

“Cory.”

She sighed. “She returned the picnic basket about an hour ago, then went back out. I don’t know where she is.”

“I’ll find her,” he said, turning away.

“Well, if you don’t find her immediately,” Cory called after him plaintively, “would you please contain your panthering? You’ve made three of my other guests nervous.”

He lifted a hand in acknowledgment as he left the house, wondering if his impatient wanderings were really disturbing anyone. Not that he cared; he just wanted to find Saber.

The only measure of comfort he found during the long afternoon was that Saber was not with Matt Preston. The billionaire remained in plain
view all the time, posing for Mark’s eager sketching as they sat near a whitewashed fence to the left of the main house.

As a last resort, Travis followed the path Saber had taken the day before. The sun was going down when he finally admitted defeat and made his way past the house and toward the cottage paths. Absently he noted that artist and subject had decided to call it a day and that the grounds were nearly deserted; the guests were probably getting ready for dinner.

The discreet shrubbery lighting had not yet come on, and the path was dim, but Travis had no difficulty making out the two people standing before the cottage he shared with Saber. He stopped in his tracks, unnoticed by either of them. Good manners might have demanded that he announce his presence or else go away: he did neither.

And he was close enough to hear as well as see.

“I had no choice,” Matt Preston said, his face oddly set.

“You had no right!” Saber responded in a low, angry voice.

“Didn’t I?”

Preston’s next words were too low for Travis to catch, and Saber’s voice had fallen to a furious whisper. It was a quick, harsh exchange, ending when Preston’s face seemed to quiver as if from a blow and Saber reached out to touch his arm.

Travis was vaguely aware of his hands curling into fists. For long moments he heard no more than the murmur of their voices, calmer now. Then Preston bent to kiss her lightly. “Thank you, honey.”

“Good night, Matt.”

Saber stood and watched as he made his way along one of the many paths leading to the main house. When he was lost from sight, she turned and went into the cottage, closing the door behind her.

Travis stood where he was for endless minutes, staring at the golden light spilling from the cottage. The conversation he’d seen and heard filled his mind with ghostly echoes; his instincts told him he’d
know
what it all meant if he could only think.
There was something just beyond his grasp, some scrap of knowledge he held without realizing.

But he couldn’t think; he could only feel. His love for Saber was like the wildness in her silvery eyes—caged by caution and patience. But in that moment what was caged became stronger than the bars and burst free with an abrupt, savage need.

Primitive instinct drove him to fight for what he wanted, to reach out and grasp what he needed with all the strength he could command. Caveman and lover fought wildly as he strode toward the cottage.

And it was a toss-up as to which won.

Saber jumped in surprise when the cottage door slammed violently, turning from the radio she’d just switched on to stare toward the sound. Travis stood in the shadows by the door, and she felt weak with relief.

“Lord, you scared me half to death,” she said.

He was silent, motionless; she couldn’t make out his expression.

“Travis?” She thought she knew what was wrong. “I’m sorry for disappearing all day.” She was still torn between excitement and alarm after realizing sometime during the day that she was head over heels in love with him. Would he walk away from her when he learned the truth? And could she blame him if he did? “Cory said you’d been looking for me.”

“Yes, I have.” His voice was calm, conversational.

Relief flooded her a second time. Surely he couldn’t be angry? Not when he sounded so calm. “I
am
sorry, but I warned you about that habit of mine. Was there … was there anything special you wanted me for?”

“Yes, there was something special.” He came forward slowly into the light.

Saber felt the breath catch in her throat. His green eyes were blazing with a light she’d never seen before, hot and shimmering. His lean, handsome
face was rigid, almost masklike, and he was moving with the restrained steadiness of leashed emotion.

“Travis?”

“I’ve been very patient,” he said evenly, still coming toward her with that careful control.

Saber swallowed hard, fighting an urge to back away. “Travis, what’s wrong with you?”

“You agree I’ve been patient?” he said in the tone of a man who means to be understood clearly.

“Yes—yes, of course you have.”

He nodded in a measured way. “There are limits to patience, Saber.”

Saber felt hypnotized, her eyes fixed on him as he came nearer. Nearer. By the time he stood before her, she was finding it difficult to breathe and couldn’t tear her gaze from the shimmering intensity of those green eyes. “Travis?” she whispered, realizing belatedly that his quiet patience had been deceptive, to say the least.

This was no civilized man, loving in his words and tender in his actions; this was a man with
pagan drums beating in his breast, driven by an overwhelming need.

Travis reached out abruptly and hauled her into his arms. “I love you!” he said fiercely, and covered her lips with his.

Like a match set to dry kindling, Saber instantly took fire. There was no slow building of passion, no gradual awareness of desire. She had no time, no opportunity to control the surging release of shatteringly powerful emotions; something broke with a shudder that rocked her entire body and sent her mind reeling helplessly.

The elemental wildness rose up in triumph to meet his equally savage need, fire meeting fire in a crucible’s white-hot fury. If she’d been granted a single instant’s realization, Saber would have dragged that wild part of her back into hiding: it was meant to be flung only into battling for survival—or into an audience of thousands where it would not overpower. But Travis gave her no time to hesitate, no chance to doubt.

She was lifted into his hard arms, carried to a
bed lit by the faint gleam of the living room lamps. Only dimly aware of being set once more on her feet, she felt his hands coping feverishly with the buttons of her blouse. Her own fingers sought him blindly, parting buttons to find the hard-muscled chest beneath, the texture of curling hair a sensation she craved. She kicked sandals aside, lowered her arms briefly to permit the passing of her blouse and lace bra, both of which were ruined in his fevered haste.

His own shirt fell to the floor and shoes went spinning into a corner unheeded. Burning lips trailed hungry kisses down her throat, and his hands lifted to surround the aching weight of her breasts.

Saber moaned low in her throat, holding his dark head with both her hands as she felt the sudden pull of his mouth, the rough brush of his tongue swirling erotically. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair as his hands spanned her waist, his mouth moved lower. Her jeans were unfastened and slid down over her hips and legs until
she could automatically step out of them; silken panties followed.

As he straightened, her hands moved downward over powerful shoulders, over the muscled chest that was rising and falling rapidly; she felt his flat stomach tauten at her touch, felt his breath catch as she found the fastening of his jeans.

Green eyes flashing with emerald fire, he stared down at her, saw her as she’d never been seen before. His hands tangled in her long hair and his mouth found hers again.

Blindly, she pushed the jeans down over his narrow hips. She felt him kick the last of his clothing aside, heard the sound he made as he lifted her and lay her on the bed in a single motion. Then he was beside her, his hands caressing with unsteady need, his mouth hot and demanding.

Saber couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. She ached; her whole body throbbed with needing him. Hunger sent her hands exploring, all her senses vibrantly alive to the feeling of his body beneath her touch. The painful need of her own
body intensified, became a tortured ache, a punishing demand.

She heard a voice that was vulnerable in its yearning, wild in its hunger, and only dimly recognized it as her own. She didn’t know what she asked, but he answered. His body moved over hers, taut with savage desire, feverish with the towering flame they had set alight.

Her body instinctively fit itself to cradle his, and when he moved suddenly she cried out, taking as fiercely as she gave. She held him with every part of herself, her grace and strength meeting his in an explosion that rocked them both. They rose together, higher and higher, tension building, splintering, dissolving in a firestorm of sheer boundless pleasure. …