Mary Wine (2 page)

* * * * *

Moving on silent feet, Jared stood beside her bed, running his eyes over her body. Her breathing deepened into slow, even breaths as her body relaxed into the deep slumber it needed. Even though she’d only managed to stay on her feet for a few hours, he was impressed.

Probing her mind had been a reflex, born from finding her hands on him in those first few seconds of consciousness. He’d been focused on a trail or he’d been able to recognize her for what she was, a civilian. Jared considered the dark circles that ringed her eyes. His probe had been blunt, sending her body into shock from the trauma.

Everything about her looked fragile—from her soft skin, to the gentle curves of her hips. Even her bed looked soft. She’d changed into some flowing bit of nightdress. The material was lying over her body in a delicate wave of ripples. His hand reached for the fabric and let it slip over just the tips of his fingers. So very delicate and feminine.

Sitting on the bed, Jared let their minds mingle. There was an odd ease to it. He was acutely aware of her. It went beyond his psychic abilities. His body joined his mind in the awareness of his new neighbor.

Letting his fingers drift lightly along the curve of her face, he smiled as the skin to skin contact registered. His nerve endings were alight with sensation. She muttered softly turning towards his hand. His palm cupped her cheek as a wave of arousal hit him. It was a steady throb of need that traveled towards his sex.

Abruptly Jared stood up. His blood was pulsing with a tempo that promised him a long night. His staff rose to stiff attention as he let his eyes travel over her soft breasts once more. The nipples were little beads now, lifting the soft fabric of the nightdress to display their tips to him.

The inexperience of his team caused her to become a factor. Making sure his little neighbor recovered was a job he felt compelled to do, but contemplating her body was proving a very annoying distraction.

That was too bad. It wasn’t every day that a man got such a delightful new neighbor.

Chapter Two

“There now, you look beautiful.”

Twisting her lips into a crooked line, Roshelle aimed a hard look at her friend.

“You shouldn’t lie like that. People talk, you know.”

Christina regarded her critic before giving a toss of her blonde head. Maybe Roshelle wasn’t the prettiest package under the Christmas tree, but in her opinion she was the best-kept secret in Benton County. Roshelle Marie Everitt had a heart of solid gold and was absolutely the best friend that a woman could ever have.

“You look wonderful. The men don’t have a prayer tonight.”

Catching sight of her reflection, Roshelle marveled at the piece of perfection that Christina had created out of her hair. Roshelle’s own attempts at hairstyling began with a hairbrush and ended with the ability to braid.

Currently her hair was French braided into a standing cornet with wisps of ringlets that framed her neck. An old style, but coupled with the Civil War era ballgown that she’d chosen to wear for tonight’s dance, it was the crowning touch.

“Come on, let’s go!”

The sun was just setting and no one wanted to be late for the first dance set. Civil War dances at Jennings Mill had been one thing that she sorely missed while away at school.

During the day the hundred-yard area of grass was transformed into a mock battlefield. People from all walks of life would drop the modern world and load up black powder rifles for the theatrical display.

Once the sun set, the ladies would lay claim to the area. A hoop skirt covered by ruffles dripping with lace was the dress of choice. The number of ladies was less than that of the men, so it almost guaranteed that a woman would leave the evening feeling just a bit more appreciated than when she arrived.

Christina timed their arrival to the second the lead fiddler was just lifting his bow. The two women glided to a stop at the edge of the dance floor. Numerous men extended their hands out to Christina. The flirtatious blonde gave them a saucy little smile before placing her hand out to her partner of choice. Leading his prize away, Roshelle was certain that Kevin Gilmore was standing at least two inches taller than when he approached them.

Now that Christina was lost to them, the expectant men turned their attention onto Roshelle. She and Christina had been friends since grade school, and some things just never changed. Some woman had brilliant plumage and others had their wit.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” Christina asked some time later.

Roshelle simply fluttered her eyelashes as she accepted yet another partner.

“You always could dance me off the floor!” Christina leaned over and bestowed a quick kiss onto Roshelle’s cheek before she made her way off of the field. Several men flocked behind her in an attempt to get her to change her mind.

It had been six long years since her last dance at Jennings Mill and Roshelle intended to dance every single polka and waltz until the fiddlers ran out of whiskey.

The cups didn’t run dry ‘til two in the morning. Christina had long since melted away on the arm of her latest escort. Her feet still tapping, Roshelle made her way along the dirt path that would lead her to the single-room cabin that her grandfather had built into the “rebel camp”.

As far as historical reenacting went, having a cabin with a rope-strung bed was the lap of luxury. The majority of the participants owned canvas tents that needed to be set up and packed down for every event. A good number of the men made do with bedrolls that they would lay out on the battlefield as soon as the dancers relinquished it.

Settling down into the bedding, Roshelle drifted off to sleep with the night’s music floating across her mind.

The dream caught her in its hold, brutally shattering the beauty of her peaceful rest. There was more this time. She could see herself running towards him, his body lay  flat on his back on the road. She felt the contact of her fingers on unresponsive flesh before she found herself held beneath him. The strength of his body was powerful but the force of his mind was devastating. He reached down into her soul with frightening precision.

Her mind rebelled from the remembered trauma, thrusting her up into consciousness to escape from the specter of her nightmare.

Pressing her palm to the frantic throbbing beneath her breast, Roshelle firmly attempted to school her thoughts to order. It was a dream, nothing but the illusions of her subconscious brain. Influenced by countless movies, it was creating its own version of fictional terror.

So why did she
feel
him?

There was no face in her dream just shadows washed with moonlight, but she could feel
him
.

Dreams could often seem real, but the feelings would fade as conscious thought resumed. Now that she was awake,
he
was more completely real than when she slept. His essence floated along her skin causing the nerves to prickle in response. Roshelle ran her fingers over the tiny bumps and felt another shiver shake her body. It was followed by several more as she struggled to unravel her dream.

Sweet angels of heaven, what had happened to her that night?

* * * * *

Roshelle’s determination to probe the memory disturbed more than just her own sleep. Jared’s eyes snapped open in instant awareness; he flipped himself up onto his feet before thinking better of the action. A man would be wise to remember that any sudden movement made while sleeping with a group of Army Rangers was a good invitation to get shot, stabbed or at the very least get a major bone broken.

The muttered chastisements were harsh but expected. Jared acknowledged them as his due and watched his unit settle back to sleep. Laying back down, he looked up into the night sky.

He could feel her.

More interesting he had heard her. Jared wasn’t a telepath. Yet in those few moments he clearly heard and felt her every emotion. That was odd. He had a talent for finding people. Passed on from his mother, his psychic talent could lead him to any target he held enough personal property of. It was a skill he’d spent years perfecting.

She
should not remember their encounter.

Jared had touched others that deeply before. None of them recalled it. Their minds simply refused to yield the information of his invasion to their conscious minds.

Dr. Roshelle Marie Everitt was a psychic. The corners of his mouth twitched up as he considered her. They were linked together from his probing of her mind. She shied away from the link, trying to block any further contact.

Her tenacity amused him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jared settled his frame against the ground he was laying on. His eyes moved over the surrounding forest with a practiced assessment. He picked out the tiny details of the night. The trees gently moving with the breeze, the scent of rain coming in from the ocean, and the very interesting touch of a female.

Jared felt her probe as it searched for him. She was shifting among the fragments of her memory looking for him. Sensation erupted along his spine. Her curiosity was acutely arousing. Coupled with his very clear memory of her soft flesh, Jared shifted again, as his clothing became too constricting.

He lifted an eyebrow at her persistence to find him. Reaching out, he connected with her mind completely. In that moment they were almost a single entity and every sensation was shared. Jared felt his body erupt into a riot of reaction as his little neighbor very precisely reached back towards his invasion.

That woman was not what she appeared to be. Jared considered their meeting and found his mouth turning down. It was just possible that she did not collide with him by accident.

Benton County was wonderfully remote. The mountains that made up the majority of it provided the perfect base for his team. The odds of a high-level psychic just showing up on his doorstep were very slim.

The slightest possibility was too great a risk for him to chance. Despite the fact that she was strong enough to retrieve the information from her mind, she was no match for him on a psychic level.

Jared swallowed his distaste. Sometimes the most effective traps held the best bait. Just what was a high-level psychic doing on a remote road in the early morning hours? The skid marks left on the asphalt confirmed that she could easily have killed him but had applied the brakes to keep it from happening.

Was that by coincidence or design?

Pushing to his feet, Jared left on silent steps. He needed to be closer to find his answers. He didn’t bother to announce his departure. The previous team had found themselves replaced because they couldn’t keep pace with the unit’s operative.

If these men couldn’t keep up with him, they would find themselves reassigned as well. When he was tracking, their job was to support him, not the opposite way around. His talents were the best, but they required absolute focus.

A man slept light in the field or he often woke up dead.

* * * * *

Summer just smelled good!

There was nothing quite so sweet as the smell of strawberries as you picked them. Roshelle slid her hands gently under the green foliage in search of the ripe berries.

As long as she could remember, this patch of strawberries had been yielding fruit. Year after year she and her grandmother would spend time every day picking the berries.

Harvesting another plump berry, she lifted it to her face, inhaling its fragrance before taking a bite from it. When she had been a child, she would shove the entire piece of fruit into her mouth. Now she took the time to enjoy it a bite at a time.

The next afternoon breeze brought a sense of anxiety to her. Roshelle lifted her head as she studied the surrounding forest. A shiver traveled down her spine as she looked for any hint that she wasn’t alone. The sunlight sparkled down through the pine needles and not even a dry leaf crunched.

Returning her attention to the plants, Roshelle shook her head. The nightmares were now invading her waking hours as well. The way her skin shivered was just so very intense. She had to find a way to push it out of her mind. It just couldn’t be real.
He
couldn’t be real.

Jared considered his target. His body was tight with awareness as he watched her. There was an almost hypnotic pull radiating from her. Twenty paces downwind he caught the slight scent of her body. His brain instantly identified it. He remembered all too well the pleasant weight of her body over his shoulder.

It’d been too long since he’d had a woman. The way this one aroused him confirmed that. Jared forced his mind into sharp focus. There was a valid reason for his observation of her today and the soft shape of her backside wasn’t it.

But she had a sweet bottom. It was really too bad she was a civilian.

She rose to her feet and hauled her basket with her. Jared moved closer as she moved into the small cabin. It was time for a small test.

Roshelle busied herself with washing and removing the tops of the strawberries. There was a calming
normalcy
involved with the task.

The knife she held dropped from her fingers as feeling snaked across her mind. The precise probing of her inner thoughts was unmistakable.
He
was looking for her. His image rose up into perfect shape as she felt
him
move inside her mind.

It was an invasion. Her simplest thought lay exposed to this…specter. Roshelle could feel the nightmare creature as
he
slowly devoured her ability to think as a single person. Instead her deepest person lay exposed to his mind.

Setting her lips together, Roshelle used every bit of will she had to thrust the invader out. No!
He
had no right! The methodical probing of her thoughts was too intimate to endure. Roshelle drew herself into tight control before thrusting a solid door shut to keep her invader at bay.

Jared raised an eyebrow at her rejection. His face set into hard lines as he digested the results of his test.

She
had failed.