Warrior (19 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Lowell

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Western

BOOK: Warrior
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There was no embarrassment in Eden this time when Nevada looked at her, kissed her once, twice, and then brought himself to her undefended gate, watching the union as he pressed into her. The taking was so gentle, so slow, his eyes so black, so wild, that Eden unraveled in shivering ecstasy. She saw her undoing echoed in the shudder that rippled through Nevada, but his slow claiming of her softness did not speed up in the least. He took Eden the way dawn takes the night, moment by moment, breath by breath, leaving nothing unclaimed, nothing hidden.

And when he filled her, all of her, sealing their bodies while she watched, she softly moaned at the completion. Tiny convulsions stole through her to him as she shimmered and burst soundlessly into fire. He rocked slowly against her, his movements as gentle and overwhelming as her body unraveling, bathing him in soft flames, rocking, rocking, and she wept and still ecstasy came to her, repeatedly, and each time the gentle rocking, rocking of Nevada’s body breathed life into her once more.

And still he rocked gently, filling her, bathing in her fire as they gave themselves to one another in secret molten pulses, burning away the world, leaving only their interlocked bodies and an incandescent ecstasy that had no ending, only beginnings, renewing and consuming and burning until finally they fell asleep, still intimately joined, their interlocked bodies gleaming in the firelight.

Yet even in sleep, Eden wept, for she had seen the darkness in Nevada’s eyes and knew she would wake alone.

 

<< 12 >>

 

Baby found Nevada’s tracks at the base of the ridge that overlooked the cougar’s den. The realization that Nevada had been so close to Eden and hadn’t so much as said hello drove black splinters of pain into her. Even as Eden looked frantically around, hoping to find Nevada, she knew it would be futile. If he had wanted to talk to her, he would have. He hadn’t. He had been very careful not to alert her to his presence, avoiding the keen edge of Baby’s senses.

Eden looked at Nevada’s tracks and fought not to cry out with loneliness. It had been two weeks since Nevada had come in from one kind of storm, only to create another in the cabin’s firelit intimacy. The memories of being joined with Nevada haunted Eden, bringing tears to her eyes even as her body shivered with remembered ecstasy. Blindly she looked at the indentations Nevada’s boots had left in the newly fertile earth, then tilted her head back and called into the wind.

“Nevada! Nevada, can’t you hear me? I love you!”

Nothing answered. Nothing would. Nevada was gone.

For the first time Eden admitted to herself that her warrior would not come to her again. Her love had not been able to heal Nevada. Even worse, her repeated offerings of love had undermined the peace of mind he had won at such terrible cost in the burned-out villages of Afghanistan.

The real world is a place where all you can do with your prayers and medicine and rage is hold the babies until they die and then bury them and walk away, just walk away, because any man who cares for anything enough to be hurt by its loss is a fool.

Nevada had taken his emotions, locked them up and walked away, forgetting even the existence of a key.

It had worked. Nevada had survived where other men had died. He had stayed sane where other men had gone mad. He had kept control of himself where other men had become savages.

Then Eden had come to the dark warrior, offering love to heal him, offering herself in ways he couldn’t refuse, stripping him of the control that was all that had kept him whole.

I’d give my soul not to want you, Eden.

Yet even when cornered, torn apart, wild with the pain of Eden’s temptation, even then Nevada had not turned on her, had not defended himself against her with his superior strength and savage skill. Instead, he had given her ecstasy.

In return, she had given him a new taste of old agony. She would die remembering the wild darkness in his eyes and the extraordinary gentleness of his hands.

“Warrior,” Eden whispered, trembling, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing to you. I didn’t think what the cost would be if I couldn’t heal you.”

Eden heard her own words and for the first time understood her own naive arrogance – she had thought herself capable of healing a man she couldn’t even make smile. As the instant of understanding came, agony went through her as deeply as ecstasy had, hammer blows of pain twisting through her mind and body, driving her to her knees. With a low sound she bent her head and held on to herself.

The pain, Nevada. My God, the pain.

I would give my soul

 

After a long time Eden straightened and slowly stood up. Despite the tears that would not stop falling, she walked back to the cabin. There was no reason to stay there any longer, no excuse. Her preliminary survey was complete, her notes were in order, everything was ready to be handed over to others who would decide whether to continue the research at Wildfire Canyon.

She should have left a week ago, but she had stayed on, making excuses about unfinished work, watching the horizon, hoping and praying and hungering for the man she loved. Now nothing remained but to take the advice of the warrior who knew how to survive.

Walk away, just walk away.

Eden began packing up her belongings and stowing them in the truck. Baby watched her with total alertness, yellow eyes intent, sensing that something was wrong. Eden spoke to him quietly from time to time, but never slowed the pace of her movements until the cabin lay empty again, no trace of her presence but the ashes cold in the hearth.

Without a backward look, Eden drove away from Wildfire Canyon, never hesitating until she came to a Yin the dirt track. The left-hand road led to West Fork. The other led to the Rocking M’s ranch house. Eden’s mind chose the left-hand fork. Her hands chose the right.

When Eden drove the truck into the ranch house’s broad, graveled front drive, there was only one vehicle parked between the house and the barn. She got out of the truck and started to close the door. Baby shot by her in a fluid leap. Once free, he made no attempt to run off. He simply stood and watched her with an unwavering yellow glance that told her he would resist being separated from his mistress. The wolf didn’t know what was wrong; he simply knew that something was.

“Heel,” Eden said softly.

Baby condensed at her heel like a black shadow. The sun was almost hot in the ranch yard. Flowers bloomed vividly in the beds that ran along the porch. Their bright colors and soft petals spoke eloquently of winter’s surrender to spring.

Eden knocked on the door. A feminine voice answered from the second story.

“Door’s open. There’s coffee in the kitchen. I’ll be with you as soon as I get Logan dried off.”

Eden hesitated, then opened the door and walked into the living room. Two playpens stood along the wall beneath a whimsical, hand-carved mobile featuring spurs and branding irons. One playpen was empty. The other held a child dressed in pink who looked about a year old. She was fussing in the manner of a baby who had been awakened too early.

“Sit,” Eden said quietly to her wolf. “Stay.”

The wolf obeyed, content as long as Eden was within his sight.

Drawn by the little girl’s muted fussing, Eden went and stood by the playpen.

“Hello, little angel,” she said gently. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Carolina stopped grumping, looked at the stranger and held her arms out in the confident demand of a well-loved child. Eden bent over and lifted the little girl into her arms. The compact warmth and sleepy resilience of Carolina’s body brought back an avalanche of memories of another small person, another compact bundle of warmth, and laughter like a field of poppies in the sun.

Holding Carolina, rocking slowly, humming softly, Eden closed her eyes and prayed that Nevada had given her his child to love.

“I’m Diana Blackthorn,” a voice said from behind Eden. “From the looks of that great black beast watching you, you must be Eden Summers.”

“His name is Baby,” Eden said, turning around and looking at the small woman with the intense blue eyes. “He won’t hurt you. But if you’re worried, I’ll—”

“No problem,” Diana interrupted, looking curiously at the motionless wolf. “I’ve been dying to see Baby ever since Nevada mentioned him.”

Eden looked from Carolina to Diana and back again. “She’s yours, isn’t she,” Eden said quietly. “You both have eyes like slices of sapphire.”

“Carolina’s half mine,” Diana agreed, smiling. “Thanks for soothing her. Once she gets going, she’s hard to stop. She has the deep-running passion of a Blackthorn.”

Eden couldn’t conceal the bittersweet shaft of pain lancing through her at Diana’s words, but all she said was “Is Luke MacKenzie here?”

“No. He and Carla won’t be back until dinner. Mariah and Cash won’t be here at all. They’ve moved into Cortez until the twins are born.”

“Is your husband Tennessee Blackthorn, the Rocking M’s ramrod?”

“Yes, but he’s out working the lease lands on the other side of MacKenzie Ridge. He won’t be back until well after sundown. But Nevada should be back within the hour. Perhaps he could help you?”

Eden closed her eyes for an instant, then shook her head very slowly and smoothed her cheek against Carolina’s shiny black hair.

“Here,” Diana said, looking at Eden’s pale face and drawn mouth, “let me take Carolina. She’s getting heavier every day. Pretty soon we’ll need a crane to lift her.”

Reluctantly Eden gave the sleeping child back, shifting Carolina’s limp weight with an expertise that hadn’t faded in the years since Aurora had died.

“You know how to handle babies,” Diana said, bending over and tucking Carolina beneath a fluffy quilt in the playpen. “Do you have children of your own?”

“No, but years ago I had a younger sister. She was just Carolina’s size


Something in Eden’s voice caught at Diana’s emotions. She turned and saw the sadness in Eden’s eyes.

“Would you pass a message along to Luke MacKenzie?” Eden asked, looking away.

“Of course.”

“I’ve finished the preliminary survey of the cougars in and around Wildfire Canyon. There are two full-time resident cats. One is a mother with three cubs. The other is a young male. I’ve found absolutely no indication that the cougars are feeding on anything but natural prey.”

Diana let out a long sigh and smiled. “That’s good news. The Rocking M women really didn’t want our men to have to hunt down those cougars. The men weren’t happy about the prospect, either, but they would have done it to protect the calves.”

Eden felt cold at the thought of Nevada having to kill the mama cougar. Nevada had known too much of death and violence, not enough of love and life.

“I’m glad the mama cougar lives on Rocking M land,” Eden said after a moment. “She’ll be safe here.”

“God, yes. Nevada watches over her like a mother hen. I’ve been trying to get him to take me to see the cubs, but he’s worried about disturbing her before the cubs are old enough to leave the den.”

“She’s a good mother,” Eden said. “All three of her cubs are lively and strong. When she calls to them, she makes the most beautiful fluting sounds


Eden closed her eyes and touched the golden chain and the tiny ring lying in the hollow of her throat.

“You look tired, and it’s a long way from here to anywhere else,” Diana said. “Why don’t you stay for dinner and then overnight? Luke and Ten would love to talk to you about the Rocking M’s cats.”

“Nevada can answer their questions.”

“Thanks,” Diana said dryly, “but I’d just as soon Ten didn’t take on his brother right now. Carla feels the same way about Luke. Nevada never was an outgoing kind of man, but in the past few weeks he’s set new records. He’s shut down, sealed up, and his eyes are enough to give your wolf pause. Frankly, Ten and I were kind of hoping you would show up here. Anyone else who tries to reach Nevada will get their head handed to them.”

Slowly Eden shook her head.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Diana said quickly, touching Eden’s arm. “Nevada is a good man. A woman wouldn’t have to worry about her safety with him. He would never hurt you physically. He’s capable of great gentleness, too. You should see him with Carla’s new baby. It’s enough to make me cry.”

“I know,” Eden whispered.

“Then why won’t you stay and talk to him?”

“Because he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

There was no mistaking the pain in Eden’s voice, in her expression, in the fine trembling of her fingers as she reached up and unfastened the gold chain from around her neck. Carefully she looped the chain on the curve of the Rocking M brand. The gold glistened like sunlight caught in the mobile’s changing lines.”

“Eden?”

“Tell Luke that the university will send him a copy of my report, including photographs of the cougars’ tracks and sketches of the boundaries of their territories,” Eden said, her voice husky. “And tell him thank-you from the bottom of my heart. Too many ranchers simply would have killed the cats out of suspicion and mistrust and ignorance.”

Eden turned and walked quickly to the door. At a single small movement of her hand, Baby rose. With the silence of smoke, the wolf followed Eden outdoors. Behind them the chain and its tiny braided gold ring shimmered and shone above the sleeping Blackthorn child.

*

When Nevada came in the front door of the ranch house, his first stop was always the playpens. They were empty, which meant that the “Rocking M Monsters” were getting their bedtime baths. Disappointed at having missed a chance to play with Carolina and Logan, Nevada took off his black Stetson, snapped it against his thigh, and tugged the hat back into place on his head.

“Need any help?” Nevada called up the stairs.

“So far, so good,” Carla called back. “Coffee’s ready in the kitchen.”

Nevada poured himself a mug of coffee and went back to the living room, bothered by something he couldn’t name. Eyes narrowed, he looked around while the squeals of a child splashing enthusiastically in the bath drifted down the stairs. Though nothing seemed obviously out of place in the living room, something kept nagging at Nevada just beneath the threshold of conscious thought, telling him that all was not as it seemed.

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