Wind Shadow (13 page)

Another blinding crack ignited just above her head as lightning tore through the dark clouds like a punishing cat-o’-nine-tails.

“
Silky!
” Wade shouted over earsplitting thunder as the gentle rain gave way to a pelting downpour. Jerking her head toward him, she dropped to her shoulders in the water.

“Silky—get out! It’s dangerous to be in water when there’s lightning.” He was waist deep, motioning broadly for her to go to shore. Even if the thunder had been too loud for her to hear him, he was making it very clear what he wanted her to do.

With her lips pressed stubbornly together, she shook her head. “No! I want to put on my clothes first.”

A flash of anger illuminated his deep scowl as he dove into the water.
He was coming to get her!
Gasping, she sank until her chin was in the water. She held up a fist, shaking her shorts at him defiantly. “Wade, don’t you da—” A few
powerful strokes, even into the forceful current, had her in his arms. “Waaaaade!” she screamed angrily as he carried her toward shore. The charged sky caught, for a silver instant, the wild, natural potency of their bodies in a glistening silhouette as he carried her, flailing and fighting, out of the river.

Chapter Nine

T
he rain battered and blew them, and more than once Wade nearly lost his footing on the slippery river rocks. Instinctively Silky stopped struggling, throwing her arms about his shoulders, burying her face against his throat.

Regaining his balance, Wade moved forward again. Silky couldn’t tell when he left the water and she didn’t care. With the unforgiving rain spiking her skin, something inside her gave up the fight. Wade had already beaten her, and she was afraid that the rainstorm might ultimately defeat them both.

“Silky—” he gasped. She felt cool softness at her back as he laid her down. “I think we’ll be okay here.”

Opening her eyes, she lifted her head from his shoulder. He had carried her into a mossy thicket,
protected from much of the wind and rain. Looking beyond his shoulder past the protective arch of low branches, she could see the hard rain pelt the land and river alike with equal brutality.

Nature’s voice was deafening. The steady roar of the river was joined with jolting regularity by the rockslide rumble of thunder and the harsh dazzle of lightning, while the wind howled eerily in the branches above them. Stray drops of rain filtered into the thicket, dropping tentatively to the carpet of moss like the timid tapping of a lost child’s finger.

Wade knelt down beside her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” His observation drew her eyes from the rain-soaked landscape as he smoothed a wet strand of hair from her cheek. “Makes you wonder why people live in cities, doesn’t it? Life is so intense, so full of power out here.”

The staccato flashes of lightning outside their natural shelter drew her eyes for an instant, but just as quickly she shifted her gaze back to the unsettling beauty of his animated face. Long, dark lashes were spangled with water, and his eyes glittered darkly with a strange, masculine sorcery. She was still holding his shoulders lightly, as he knelt there, looking steadily down at her. She knew she should have been angry—only a moment ago she had been furious. But all of her irritation slid away, like drops of rain. Slowly, she opened her lips. “Wade—I—”

Thunder cracked around them and lightning turned the world outside their shelter stark
white. It was terrible and wonderful—like the tumultuous struggle of a brave new world—nature’s birth cries. And Silky felt a part of that new birth: part river, part earth, part sky and part storm; elements of it all—she and Wade—small but vital parts of the swirling maelstrom of nature. Without reason, she felt an unexpected surge of hunger to know the fullest force of another storm, one as undeniable and fierce as only the joining of flesh to flesh can ignite. Her body ran hot. Her veins were a wild network of charged electricity, while her heart beat in frenzied concert with the pulsating world beyond their refuge.

“Wade …” It was a throaty, desperate sigh. She didn’t have to say anything more. The plea shimmered in her eyes, as she communicated her need in a language that was older than the spoken word. Before her eyes, his concerned expression changed to a brief flash of surprise and then to a gentle softening that was not quite a smile. As he lowered his lips to hers, she breathed, “I want to be a part of the storm, Wade—part of you …”

Thunder applauded their kiss with the clap of a billion unseen hands as Wade lowered her to the yielding moss. His groan was one of male hunger, not protest.

Even with her eyes closed, she could see the lightning flash and hear the melodic moan of the wind. The mossy den smelled faintly of musk, but her conscious mind held none of these sensations
as dearly as it did Wade’s touch. His large, warm hands traveled over the slick, curving surfaces of her body like a thorough explorer.

Reluctantly, he lifted his lips from hers as he smoothed the hair away from one ear. Lowering his cheek to hers, he gently tugged at the lobe with his teeth. A wave of heightened feeling danced like leaves in a high wind along her body, setting fire to her core. Her moan of pleasure mingled with the wind’s deep cry, and she opened herself fully to his searching touch.

She shuddered, reaching out for him, trying to speak. Her words were broken by a sigh as his expert fingers sent a wave of raw need through her. With shaky hands, she pushed against his shoulder until he was lying on his back. “Wade—let me ride the storm.”

He said nothing, but watched her silently as she slid over him, taking him inside. Gasping at the delicious pleasure of his entry, she curled her fingers in the mat of wiry hair at his chest.

Tilting her face to the green, swaying roof that protected them, she let out a shuddering sigh and raised her hands to his shoulders. His name took flight on the wind, as he pulled her forward to nuzzle and suckle her breasts. She reveled in the feeling as his tongue teased them. Pulling his face close, she let a soft laugh, deep in her throat, go free. She was mother earth, and he, the raging storm that nourished her and gave her life.

Slowly she began to move. Wade’s hands slid down to her hips as he joined her, aiding her. Lifting her head, her eyes closed, she allowed that part of her which was wholly primeval to move her through each thunderously exciting clash of their bodies, each breathtaking flash of feeling, until at last, with Wade gripping her thighs, she raised her face to the sky. Her cry of fulfillment echoed out over the maelstrom.

Wade gently touched a quivering breast as he slid his hands around to her back, and pulled her trembling body down to cover his. Smoothing her hair away, he kissed her cheek. She could feel the shudder of his muscles as he held her tightly to him. Still imprisoned within her, he lay holding her.

At first she was still, watching his profile. Then, with one hand, she began to stroke the hairs that curled sleek and shiny as black patent leather against his tanned face. She licked the droplets of rain from his forehead, and then moved down, first closing one of his eyes with a gentle kiss on the lid, and then the other. She didn’t know what wanton had taken over her body, and she didn’t care. Lifting her head, she delighted in his expression as he opened his eyes again to gaze up at her. It was extraordinary, a combination of wonder and something very close to adoration. Loosening his hold he began to unleash new feelings of excitement within her as his fingers lightly massaged her back and hips.

“Why do you think this happened, Silky?” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes intent, questioning.

She started at the unexpected question and tried to rise, but he anticipated it, pressing her face to his throat. She could feel his pulse coursing against her lips.

“No—” he cautioned softly. “Think about it before you say anything.” His other hand continued to feather her back with caressing strokes. “Why do you think we made love again? Considering what you said your feelings were, doesn’t it seem odd that you keep falling so easily into my arms?”

She felt sick, and a tremor defied and won out over the stiffening of her lower lip. It wasn’t until a whimper betrayed her devastation that Wade released her and she was able to pull herself away, sliding quickly off of him and scrambling to her knees.

Feeling very confused and hating herself for her unexplainable weakness, she sat back on her heels, covering her nakedness as best she could. Eyeing him through a blur of tears, she mumbled distractedly, “What do you want me to admit, Wade—that I’m a weak person, or that you’re God’s sexual gift to women?”

She grabbed her clothes from where she’d dropped them earlier and began to struggle into them. Wet and clinging, they fought her every inch of the way.

Wade sat up abruptly, touching her cheek. “Listen, Silky! Listen to your—”

She slapped his hand away. “Stay away from me! Maybe I am weak, I don’t know—” She jerked her top over her head. “Maybe it was just the storm. You know what they say about storms.” With legs as weak as her tremulous voice, she stood.

“Silky, look deeper than that.” He reached out for her wrist, but she avoided his touch as though it were a snake’s.

“No! There’s nothing to see! You and your constant preaching about looking beneath the surface.” She pushed a hand through her tangled hair. “It’s really very simple. The storm frightened me—and then it excited me. That’s all. Don’t try to make yourself out to be some sort of macho Adonis. And don’t think I’m some weak-kneed, easy—” She choked on a sob. “I—I just made a mistake with you.” With a bitter moan, she corrected herself, biting out fiercely, “Two mistakes! But I won’t make any more.”

“You can’t mean that,” Wade said levelly, his eyes holding hers relentlessly.

Her legs quivered so badly she wasn’t sure that she would be able to support herself. Weakly, but with ironbound determination, she managed, “I mean it, Wade.” Her shadowed green eyes narrowed to slits. “Rex was my husband. He will be again.” She drew a long, shuddering breath. “I want you to stay away from me. Do you understand? Leave me alone!”

This last came out in a mournful cry as she spun on her heels. She could hear him curse
violently under his breath as she dashed out of the shelter: Running blindly along the rocky bank, she was hardly aware that the rain had slackened, but she was very aware that Wade was letting her go, and her relief was strangely subdued.

“The lieutenant fix your ticket out there in the woods?” Annie’s sarcastic quip pulled Silky sharply from her gloomy reverie as she narrowly watched Wade glide by. She shot her head around so quickly that her helmet skewed sideways on her head.

“What?”

“Wade Banning. You remember him. The long arm of the law?” Annie cackled evilly, flicking a finger on Silky’s askew headgear. “Better tighten your strap or a good wind’ll catch it and screw your head off.” She lifted her lips in a knowing smirk. “I’ve been dying to ask. Just what happened between you and Wade out there in the rain the other night?” A devilish twinkle sparkled in her hazel eyes as Silky gasped.

“Oh, you covered yourselves pretty well—for the rest of the folks. But not me! You may have come in from the west, and ten minutes later he straggled in from the north, but—” She lifted a finger for emphasis. “How come he had the salad stuff and you had nothing but a flimsy excuse about falling in the river? How come ever since, you’ve been looking daggers at him? Jeez, Silk! A person could get killed getting
caught in the path of one of your glares. What’s the matter, kiddo?”

She watched Silky’s pink face intently as she casually squirted water from her bottle into her mouth. Fastening it back on her bike frame, she went on, “It’s plain to me that the man’s made a pretty big impression, and I have an idea what kind of impression he made.” She lifted her lips impishly as the double meaning of her words hit Silky square in the face. “But what I can’t figure is why you’re so darned mad about it. Most women would give a lot for a romp in the woods with—”

“Leave it alone, will you!” Silky ground out between clenched teeth. Pushing hard on her bike pedal, she left her friend standing by the roadside in the yellow brown dust that her hasty departure stirred up.

Why did Annie have to be so painfully on target? How humiliating that she had guessed. This “romp in the woods with Wade,” as Annie had so roguishly described it, was one subject that she would never discuss. She couldn’t understand why she had succumbed to him. But no matter what the reason, she wouldn’t let it happen again. Annie may have guessed the truth about Wade and her, but she promised herself that she’d never say anything that would make Annie absolutely sure she was right. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Besides, it would certainly never happen again!

She pedaled at top speed, partly to get away
from Annie and partly to catch up with Randy. How ironic that Ice’s distasteful request for her help had actually become her salvation these last few days. Even Rex’s deliberate attentiveness had begun to get on her nerves.

Randy Douglas needed a friend and, right now, so did she. She and little Randy were two people drawn together by a mutual need, no strings attached.

She grinned wryly at Randy’s skinny shoulders as he pumped determinedly up ahead, his oversized orange helmet bobbing up and down with every move.

“Hey, Randy! Wait up!” she called.

He squinted back over his shoulder and tossed her a tentative half-smile, his version of uninhibited mirth. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he reduced his speed so that she could catch up. As she passed Ice, he nodded, his mirrored eyes telling her nothing, as usual. But his sad smile was one of unspoken thanks. Silky mused that Ice’s behavior toward Randy was odd, considering his continued insistence that he wasn’t old enough to handle the responsibility of a boy Randy’s age. He seemed like a better-than-average father as far as Silky could see. Sure, the boy made him mad at times, but she thought Ice handled Randy justly.

Whatever else Ice had learned in life, he had learned compassion. He was a man who had walked on feet of clay and learned, from his own mistakes, how to forgive. His flamboyant DJ
pose could easily lead a person to believe that he had little substance, but Silky had discovered that what she saw was only a shell. Ice was a gentle person. It surprised her a little to realize that she was growing to like him.

“What’s up, doc?” she kidded, as she caught up with Randy. Yesterday, when she’d told him that she’d been an emergency medical technician, he’d shyly admitted that he wanted to be a doctor. She’d told him that he could do whatever he wanted to do with his life. All it took was hard work and determination. Silently, she hoped that life would grant him his chance.

“Nothing.” He kept his eyes ahead.

Silky shook her head and grinned—her man of few words. They rode along in comfortable silence for a while with the steady crunch of fine gravel crackling like static beneath their narrow tires. Silky tried very hard to keep her eyes off of the broad shoulders of the man leading the pack.

Angry with herself for her unsettling preoccupation with Wade, she forced her eyes to slide toward Randy again, struggling for a topic of conversation that might take her mind off Wade.

“Did you hear? Annie told me that we’re going to camp in an Eskimo village tonight and celebrate the Fourth of July with them tomorrow. How about that?”