The Touch of Fire

by Linda Howard

  She was too limp, too exhausted to move. Her eyelashes lay heavily on her cheeks, and she couldn’t lift them. Her heartbeat slowed and her thought processes resumed, but they were oddly chaotic.

  She didn’t know what to think. What he had just done to her, given to her, had been outside her realm of imagination. She had known the basic facts of sex, of penetration and his release of semen, but she hadn’t realized any of.. . this existed, or was even possible. The things he had done, the way she had felt.... Had that been the way he had felt, when he had been thrusting inside her and had suddenly stiffened and given that deep, gutteral cry? He had lain atop her afterward as if he had been utterly exhausted, as if he had no energy to move.

  He lay down beside her and took her in his arms, then pulled the blanket over them. Her head was nestled on his shoulder, their naked bodies pressed intimately together. His muscled thigh pushed between hers and she sighed as the movement forced her quivering muscles to relax from their vain effort to hold herself from him.

  His mouth brushed her temple, and his big hand stroked her back and buttocks. “Go to sleep, darlin’,” he murmured, and she did.

  CHAPTER

  9

  He rolled out of the blankets and Annie lifted her heavy eyelids, desperately needing a few more hours of sleep for, after all, she had been awake most of the night. “Is it morning?” she asked, hoping that it wasn’t. Without his warmth beside her, the cold crept through the blanket and made her shiver.

  “Yeah.”

  She wondered how he could tell, when it was as dark as night inside the cabin with the door closed and the window coverings down. She could barely make out the outline of his form in the dull glow of the coals in the fireplace. For a moment she wondered why the coals hadn’t been banked, then memory crashed through her and she not only remembered why the fire had been rebuilt during the night, she remembered why she hadn’t been able to get much sleep. Rafe’s tall body was totally naked, as was hers. She huddled under the blanket, feeling the stiffness in her thighs and the tenderness between her legs. She remembered everything he had done to her, and the blinding upheaval of her senses, and she wished she could remain hidden beneath the blanket for the rest of her life. How could she possibly carry on as normal, when every time she looked at him she would remember the shattering intimacy of the night? He had seen her naked and exposed his own body to her; he had penetrated her, suckled at her breast and—dear God—he had put his mouth on her in the most shocking way possible. She didn’t think she could face him at all.

  He added wood to the fire, and as the flames leaped up she was able to see him more clearly. She hurriedly closed her eyes, but not before the image of his naked, muscular frame was imprinted on her consciousness.

  “C’mon, honey, get up.”

  “In a minute. It’s too cold right now.”

  She heard the rustle of his clothing as he dressed, then silence for a moment. Her skin prickled with unease, and she quickly opened her eyes.

  She didn’t know what she had expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t Rafe holding her shift close to the fire, warming it. He turned both sides to the growing flames, chasing the chill from the fabric, then crushed it in his hands to hold the heat as he thrust it under the blanket. The toasty warm cloth felt heavenly against her skin. She stared at him, a little stunned, a little breathless, as he picked up her drawers to perform the courtesy again.

  She struggled into her shift with the blanket still shielding her, but her mind was no longer on the embarrassment of facing him, or even being nude in front of him. He slid the warm drawers under the blanket and immediately turned to her blouse, his expression absorbed as he held it out to the flames. Her heart surged painfully, and she almost burst into tears as she pulled on her undergarment. She had known terror at his hands, but he had also shown a rough sort of concern for her well-being. He had possessed her, hurt her, then cared for her afterward and taken her into the dark whirlpool of passion Despite everything she had been half in love with him but no longer. The unselfconscious care he took in warming her clothes for her took her unawares, and forever changed something fundamental in her. She felt the inner shifting and settling, and stared at him with dazed, stricken eyes, fully recognizing the moment for what it was. She loved him, irrevocably, and in doing so had undergone a sea change that had in a few seconds completely altered her life.

  “Here you go.” He brought the warmed blouse to her and she sat up, slipping her arms into the sleeves as he held it for her. He rubbed her arms and shoulders, then brushed her tangled hair out of her face. “I’m going to get a bucket of fresh water while you finish dressing.”

  He put on his coat and picked up the bucket. A frigid blast of air rushed in when he opened the door and Annie hugged the blanket around her, shivering. She couldn’t believe how cold it was. If Rafe hadn’t caught her last night, she would already be dead. The thought of it made her shiver even more.

  She donned the rest of her clothes and was painstakingly working the tangles out of her hair when Rafe reentered with another freezing rush of air. “Is it snowing?” she asked. She hadn’t looked out either time he had opened the door, preferring to hide her face from the cold.

  “Not yet, but it’s as cold as a witch’s tit.” He squatted down and began making a pot of coffee.

  She wondered how he could be so matter of fact after the night they had just spent, then a pang hit her as she realized he had made love to other women and none of that was new to him. She made herself face the fact that making love with her didn’t necessarily mean he returned her feelings.

  Suddenly he turned and hauled her into his arms, opening his coat and wrapping her inside the warmth with him. “Don’t ever try to run from me again,” be said fiercely, his raspy voice low.

  She put her arms around his waist, taking care not to put pressure on his wounds. “No,” she said in agreement, the words muffled against his chest.

  He brushed his mouth over her hair. The thought that she might have been caught out in that bitter cold, without even a coat, made him want to simultaneously spank her and crush her against him. God, he’d come so close to losing her.

  Her hands were gently wandering over his back, leaving a trail of glowing heat behind. His manhood stirred, and with faint disbelief he wondered if her effect on him would ever lessen or if her touch would always induce an immediate sexual reaction.

  He cuddled her closer. “Are you all right?”

  She knew what he was asking and her face heated. “I’m fine,” she said gruffly.

  He tilted her head back, his pale gray eyes sternly searching the dark liquid depths of hers. “You’re not sore?”

  Her blush deepened. “A little. Not as much as I’d expected.” Of course, his treatment with the slipperyelm salve had done a lot to lessen her discomfort. The memory of how he had administered it to her made her squirm.

  His thoughts were running with hers. “I should have seen to you before you got dressed.” His voice deepened. “Do you need more salve?”

  “No!”

  “I think you do. Let me see.”

  “Rafe!” she wailed, her face so hot she thought it would catch fire.

  A slow smile curved his mouth and wrinkled his eyes at her reaction to his teasing. “I’m going to look at you a lot, honey. If I hadn’t been worried that you’d be too sore, I’d have been on top of you before you were good awake this morning.”

  Her heart thumped in her chest and she stared up at him with wide eyes. Did she want him to do it again? Those things he had done to her afterward had been so marvelous she didn’t know if she could survive another onslaught, but she was wary of the actual sex act What if the next time was just as painful?

  He frowned at her expression. “You did know,” he said deliberately, “that last night wouldn’t be the only time.” His tone of voice made it a statement rather than a question.

  She bit her lip. “Yes, I knew.” The hard fact was that, if he wan
ted her, she would oblige and trust that it would grow easier. There was no going back, no returning to virginity, and despite everything she didn’t want to. She was still dealing with the shock of realizing that she loved him, but she did love him and that meant giving herself to him.

  He bent his head and kissed her, and his big hand covered her breast with unhesitating possessiveness. “I’m going to see to the horses and check the traps while you cook breakfast.” He kissed her again and released her, setting his hat on his head as he turned toward the door.

  “Wait!” Annie stared at him. Despite the way he had worked the day before, and the way he had made love to her, he had been very ill only a couple of days earlier. She didn’t know that she wanted him to check the traps by himself.

  He paused, giving her a questioning look.

  She suddenly felt foolish, though she didn’t know why. “Don’t you want a cup of coffee first?”

  He glanced at the fireplace. “It isn’t ready.”

  “It will be soon. You need something hot inside you before you go out again. Wait until after breakfast and I’ll go with you.”

  “Your coat isn’t heavy enough for staying out in this kind of weather for that long.”

  “Wait until after breakfast anyway.”

  “Why? I can have it all taken care of by the time you’ve finished cooking.”

  She said in a rush, “Because I don’t want you to check the traps by yourself.”

  He looked startled. “Why not?”

  She put her hands on her hips, suddenly irritated with him beyond all reason. “Three days ago you were burning up with fever and could barely walk, that’s why! I don’t think you’ve recovered enough to tramp all over the mountains. What if you fall, or become too weak to get back?”

  He grinned and grabbed her, kissing her hard. “That was three days ago,” he said. “I’m fine now. You healed me.”

  He released her and left the cabin before she could stop him again. Probably she didn’t know how true his statement was. Oh, her skill at doctoring had helped, what with her poultices and herb teas, the stitches and bandages and fussing concern, but she had healed him with the heat of her touch. He had felt the force of it moving through his body that first night. He didn’t understand it, didn’t know how to ask her about it, but he had no doubt that she could have healed him even without her store of knowledge.

  He watered and fed the horses, then with a weather eye on the low, gray clouds he began checking the various snares he had arranged. A rabbit was in the third one, and he felt a surge of relief. A nice pot of rabbit stew would stretch out their meager food supplies. He still felt that snow was coming; it might be only a couple of inches, but it could be a couple of feet, keeping them inside at least while the snow was falling, and that could last several days. He thought of being stranded in the cabin with Annie and found himself smiling like an idiot. If their food situation was okay, he wouldn’t mind that at all.

  He knocked the rabbit in the head and reset the snare, then hurriedly checked the remainder of the traps, but the rabbit was the only yield. He chose a spot well away from the cabin to skin and dress the animal, then carried the carcass to the creek to wash it and remove the blood from his hands. Figuring breakfast should be just about ready, he gladly returned to the warmth of the cabin.

  Annie whirled anxiously when he opened the door, but her expression relaxed when she saw that he was okay. Her gaze moved to the carcass in his hand. “Oh, good, you got a . . . whatever it is.”

  “Rabbit.”

  He shed his jacket and hat and gratefully took the cup of hot coffee she poured for him, sipping it while she cooked and dished up their simple breakfast. They sat down on the floor to eat and he put his hand on the nape of her neck, holding her for a hard, hungry kiss. When he released her she was pink and a little flustered. He wondered wryly how he had held off for as long as he had, because he sure as hell couldn’t keep his hands off her now.

  They ate, and then Rafe helped her clean their few dishes. When he started out for more water he paused with the door open, despite the frigid air, and said, “Come look at the snow.”

  Hugging her arms against the cold, she went to stand beside him. Huge white flakes were swirling noiselessly downward. The forest was as silent as a cathedral. In the short time it had taken them to eat, the ground had become covered with white and still the snow drifted down in a ghostly dance. He put his arm around her and she let her head rest cm his chest.

  “You knew all day yesterday that it was going to snow,” she said. “That’s why you insisted on gathering so much wood and making the horses more comfortable.”

  She felt his steely muscles tense. “Yes.”

  “You’re recovered enough, and had enough time. You could have taken me back to Silver Mesa.”

  Again he said, “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  He was silent for a while, and they both watched the snow. Finally he spoke. “I couldn’t let you go just yet.” Then he took the bucket and walked through the snow to the creek.

  Annie quickly shut the door and stood close to the fire, rubbing warmth back into her arms. I couldn’t let you go just yet. She felt both sad and exhilarated, for by his words he still planned to return her to her home and ride away, just as she had feared would happen. And yet.. . no one else had ever thought she was special, except for her father, and he had naturally been prejudiced. When she had looked in the mirror she had seen a rather thin woman, past the first blush of youth, with tired but pleasant features. Her coloring was unremarkable, though sometimes she had been startled to see that her eyes could appear almost black, and dominate her face. She had certainly never before stirred anyone to passion.

  But Rafe had looked at her with passion right from the beginning. She had felt it herself, though she had been too ignorant of the subject to recognize it for what it was. Rafe had known, though, and that was what had given his crystalline eyes such a dangerous glitter. He had wanted her then and he wanted her now with the same savage hunger, though he was restraining himself out of consideration for her.

  By the time he returned from the creek she had busied herself cutting up the rabbit for stew. As a precaution he strung the rope from the cabin to the horse shed so he would be able to take care of the animals should the wind pick up and turn the silent snow into a blizzard. Then he brought in more wood. Since the cold prevented them from opening the window coverings it was dark in the cabin; the fire was the only illumination. Because of that, and because the bitter weather made the cabin colder than usual, he disregarded his normal caution and kept the fire high. No one was likely to brave the weather to investigate a curl of smoke even should one be visible in the white curtain of snow, which wasn’t likely.

  Annie added potatoes and onions to the stew, then opened her black bag and threw in pinches of various herbs. She had always found it convenient that so many of the cooking herbs, such as sage, rosemary, and tarragon, also had healing properties.

  Rafe was carefully cleaning his weapons and checking his ammunition by the light of the fire, but nothing truly escaped his attention. He gave her proof of that when he asked, “How did you learn so much about plants? I doubt they taught it to you in medical school.”

  “Well, no. A lot of it is general knowledge, of course, and has been used for centuries in Europe. But some of the European plants can’t be found here, so I had to find out which American plants were also useful. Old country people are the best ones to talk to, for they’ve had to do their own doctoring and they know what works and what doesn’t.”

  “What got you so interested in it?”

  She smiled. “I’m interested in anything that helps people get well,” she said simply.

  “Where do you get them?”

  “Fields, flower gardens.” She shrugged. “Some I grow myself, like mint and rosemary and thyme. Plantains are really just common weeds, but I can’t get them out here. What I have left is what I brought with
me from home. Aloe seems to work almost like plantains, but you need a fresh plant. I have several back in Silver Mesa.”

  She put the stew on to simmer and then looked fretfully around the dark cabin. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand staying in the dark all day long. Now I know why people pay a fortune to have glass shipped out here.”

  “I have some candles,” he reminded her.

  She sighed. “But what if it snows for days? I doubt you have that many candles.”

  “No, just a few.”

  “Then we’d better save them.”

  He thought of all the various means of providing light he’d seen over the years. Oil lamps were best, of course, but they didn’t have one. There were also pine-tar torches, but they smoked like a son of a bitch. The dimness didn’t bother him, as it wasn’t complete, but he’d learned both patience and endurance and his nerves were like iron. Annie, however, had probably never spent a day without sunlight, and it would understandably wear on her nerves.

  Carefully, he put his weapons aside. “Maybe,” he said, watching her with acute attention, “you need to find something about the dark to appreciate.”

  A quick reply sprang to her lips but died unsaid as she saw his pale eyes glittering in the firelight. She swallowed and her eyes widened, then she was in his arms and he was laying her down on their pine needle bed.

  She trembled and eyed him uncertainly. Rafe kissed her, leaning over her with her head cradled on his arm. “It won’t hurt, darlin’,” he said in that deep, slow, southern tone she recognized as his lovemaking voice. “You’ll see.”