Sunlight

by Amanda Ashley

  “Let’s go into Chadds Creek tomorrow morning and call my parents,” Lainey suggested. “I need to call them anyway to let them know where I am, and we can tell them about our engagement. Maybe do some shopping and then go to lunch. What do you think?”

  “I think I’d like that,” Micah said, and then he frowned. “Maybe we should go today. I don’t want your mother and father to worry about you.”

  Lainey smiled at Micah, touched by his concern for her parents. “Tomorrow will be soon enough,” she assured him. “Besides, it’ll be dark soon, and I’ve never liked driving these mountain roads after sunset.”

  Rising, she started to clear the table, and then she felt Micah’s arm curl around her waist. He drew her up against him, his face cradled in the valley between her breasts.

  “Since I am not a guest,” he murmured, his breath penetrating the fabric of her blouse to kiss the skin beneath, “and since you said I should tell you what I want…” He drew her down into his lap, his tongue laving the curve of her ear…”I want to make love to you, now. I want to taste of your sweetness, feel your heart beating next to mine, listen to the music of your soul…”

  Spellbound, Lainey took Micah by the hand and led him into her bedroom.

  Breathless with yearning, her pulse racing with desire, she gave herself into his keeping and let her soul speak to his all through the night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chadds Creek was an old mining town. In the early 1800’s, gold had been discovered along the banks of the river, but it had been a small strike of little consequence and the town had slowly died out. In the mid 1960’s, George Malcolm McHenry—a man who had lots of money and even more spare time—decided to build himself a winter home near the old town, complete with a ski lift. When McHenry died, his son, George, Jr., turned the house into a ski lodge and Chadds Creek became an exclusive playground for the very rich and the very famous.

  With the increase in tourists, the town’s original buildings had been restored to give people a taste of the past, while new businesses—mostly fashionable boutiques—had sprung up like mushrooms near the ski lodge. Lainey preferred the old part of town.

  Leaving the car behind Nell’s Ice Cream Parlor, Micah and Lainey walked down the narrow alley that led to the main street. Now, during the summer, the ski lifts and a lot of the boutiques were closed, but the old section of town drew enough tourists to keep the place alive during the summer. She saw several cars with out-of-state license plates as they crossed the dusty street and walked down the wooden sidewalk to a pay phone located on the corner.

  Micah had shed his own form and taken on his alter ego when they left the cabin and now, walking down the street, women old and young alike turned to stare at him. She could only imagine the long, lingering looks he’d get in his natural form, which she thought was every bit as sexy and gorgeous as this one.

  Lainey laughed when a girl of about ten pointed at Micah and loudly exclaimed, “Mom, that man looks just like Fabio!”

  Micah leaned one shoulder against the door of the old-fashioned phone booth while Lainey placed her call. He grinned at the pained expression on Lainey’s face as she explained to her mother that everything was all right, that Micah was with her, that she wasn’t sure when they would be back, that she was sorry she had left home without telling anyone.

  “Mom! Mom, would you please just listen for a minute? I’ve got something to tell you.” Lainey glanced at Micah and smiled. “Mom, guess what? Micah asked me to marry him. No, I’m not kidding… Well, we haven’t set a date yet…we’ll probably go to Vegas…” She looked at Micah and rolled her eyes. “I’ve already had one big church wedding, Mom, I don’t need another one… Yes, we’ll talk more about it when I get home. Give my love to Dad. Bye.”

  Lainey hung up the phone, then shook her head. “Well, I’m glad that’s over. Let’s go get something to eat.”

  Hand in hand, they walked down the street to Kattle Katy’s Kitchen. It was a building unlike anything Micah had ever seen. The furniture was rough-hewn, the tables were covered with red-and-white-checked cloths. There were animal heads mounted on one wall and posters with desperate looking men on another. The woman behind the counter wore a blue gingham dress and a frilly white apron.

  Micah stared at the animal heads while Lainey ordered a couple of cheeseburgers with the works, a double order of ranch fries, and two chocolate shakes.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Lainey observed as they took a seat at a booth near a window. “Is something wrong?”

  “A big church wedding,” Micah said. “What is that?”

  Lainey made a vague gesture with her hand. “A wedding is when people get married. Sometimes you invite a lot of friends and family and have a big party. That’s a big wedding. And sometimes people go away and get married quietly. That’s what we’ll do.”

  “You don’t want a big church wedding again?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I already went that route with Drew and it didn’t work out. I guess maybe I’m a little superstitious.”

  “Superstitious?”

  “Afraid that if I go through all that again with you, something might go wrong.”

  Micah nodded. “What is Vegas?”

  “It’s a place where you can get married without any blood tests.”

  Micah frowned, remembering Red Hair and Mac and fat syringes filled with blood.

  “Most places require blood tests before you can get married to be sure you don’t have any diseases, but in your case, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Understanding dawned in Micah’s eyes. Of course, he could not let anyone test his blood. The color alone would cause any number of questions that could not be answered.

  “But, Lainey, will you be happy going to this Vegas place to be married?”

  Lainey smiled. “I’ll love it,” she said, folding her hand over his. “And I love you.”

  He started to reply, but the waitress chose that moment to bring their order. She stared at Micah for a moment, her eyes wide. “You aren’t… I mean, are you…?”

  “No,” Lainey replied. “He isn’t.”

  “Well, a girl can hope,” the waitress retorted, and walked away, her skirts swishing.

  “Would you like to go sight-seeing after we eat?” Lainey asked. “There’s a blacksmith shop, an old newspaper office, an assay office…” She frowned, trying to remember what other buildings remained. “Oh, a jail, of course, and a brothel…”

  “Brothel?”

  Lainey shrugged. “You know, a house of ill repute? Whore house? Prostitutes?” She shook her head when she saw he still didn’t understand. “A place where men used to go to have paid sex.”

  “Ah,” Micah said.

  “Do they have such places on Xanthia?”

  “No, but there are planets where such things are common.”

  “Really?”

  “The urge to mate is strong throughout all the known galaxies,” he remarked with an exaggerated leer. “My own urge has grown steadily stronger since I met you.”

  Lainey felt herself blush from the souls of her feet to the roots of her hair as the waitress chose that moment to stop by and see if they needed anything else.

  “We’re fine,” Lainey stammered. “Just bring the check, please.”

  “You’re very pretty when your cheeks turn pink,” Micah said as they left the restaurant.

  “I’m glad you think so, since I seem to blush frequently since I met you.”

  They spent the next two hours touring the town, looking at old butter churns, and flat irons that weighed a ton, and huge black kettles. They saw old fire engines and pot-bellied stoves, cast-iron wash tubs and outdoor pumps, high-button shoes and whalebone corsets.

  “I wish I’d brought my camera,” Lainey said as they walked through the old jail. “I can’t believe I left it home. I take it everywhere.”

  Micah grimaced as he peered into one of the iron
-barred cells. It took very little to imagine what it must have been like to be locked up in such a dreary place. All too clearly, he recalled being imprisoned on Einar Three, and, more recently, being strapped to a cold, metal table, his freedom gone, his life in the hands of his enemies.

  Leaving the jail, Lainey dragged Micah into Wilson’s Western Emporium and insisted he try on a cowboy hat. Most men looked great in cowboy hats, and Micah was no exception. Lainey insisted on buying him one, choosing a black Stetson with a rolled brim. “No, Lainey,” Micah said, removing the hat. “You’ve done enough for me already.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You buy my food. You bought me clothes. I live in your house. It is enough.”

  “But you need a souvenir,” she argued. “Besides, it looks great on you.”

  “No.”

  Lainey grimaced. Apparently male pride wasn’t a trait unique to Earth men. “I want you to have it, Micah. Please? It isn’t polite to refuse a gift.”

  “But I cannot buy you anything,” Micah said quietly.

  “You pick something out, and I’ll buy it.”

  “It is not the same.”

  “Well, then, I’ll lend you some money until you get a job, and then you can pay me back.”

  Micah considered that for a moment, and then he nodded. He disliked taking money from Lainey, but he wanted to give her something—wanted her to have something tangible to remember him by in case he had to leave her.

  While Lainey tried on boots, he wandered through the store, browsing through shelves of mugs and glassware embossed with the name of the town, t-shirts, scarves and belts. He paused at a counter featuring an array of jewelry and watches before deciding on a heart-shaped bracelet made of turquoise and silver.

  He paid for the bracelet, then stood near the door, waiting for Lainey while she purchased a pair of white cowboy boots.

  Outside, he handed her the small sack, his gaze intent upon her face as she opened it.

  “Oh, Micah, it’s beautiful. I love it.” Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  Micah touched the brim of his hat with his forefinger, and then kissed Lainey on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  On the way back to the car, Lainey speculated on what it must have been like to have been a woman back in the old days, before microwave ovens, refrigerators, washers and dryers, no-wax floors, and polyester had come along and taken the drudgery out of being a housewife.

  With a grin that was slightly smug, Micah informed her that on Xanthia microwaves and all the other things she thought of as modern conveniences were as old-fashioned as wash boards and butter churns.

  “Well, we’ll catch up,” she replied confidently. “Maybe you can introduce some of the wonders of Xanthia to our backward culture while you’re here.”

  “Maybe,” he said doubtfully.

  “Why not?” Lainey asked, growing excited by the idea. “The women of Earth would probably make you a saint if you invented that thing you told me about that does all the cooking. Think of the hours in the kitchen it would save at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Turkeys that cook in minutes instead of hours. Why, you could make a fortune. You know, a lot of money.”

  Lainey frowned as she unlocked the car door and slid behind the wheel. “I don’t suppose they have money on Xanthia, do they?”

  Removing his hat, Micah got into the car. “No.” He looked at Lainey thoughtfully as he put his Stetson on the backseat, then shut the door. “Would you like to have a fortune?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulled onto the highway, her brow furrowed in thought.

  She’d never really wanted to be rich. Her father had always provided her and her mother with a comfortable living, and when she got out on her own, she discovered she could make a decent living as an author. Still, it might be nice to drive a low-slung sports car and shop in Beverly Hills.

  “Is money important to you?” Micah asked.

  “Not really. I guess I’d rather be happy and healthy.” She glanced at Micah. “And in love with you.”

  Heat sizzled through her as Micah placed his hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze.

  Suddenly anxious to be home where they could be alone, she pressed down on the accelerator, thinking she’d be happy to wash clothes in an old-fashioned wash tub so long as they were Micah’s clothes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Micah bolted upright, all his senses alert as he gazed around the darkened room. Something was wrong.

  He glanced at Lainey, sleeping soundly beside him, then slid out of bed and padded quietly to the window and drew the curtains aside. A full moon hung low in the sky, bathing the grounds in a pale yellow light.

  Head cocked to one side, he listened to the stillness, his gaze sweeping the moon-dappled yard. And then he saw it, a dark silhouette darting from tree to tree, gradually making its way closer to the front of the cabin.

  Cursing softly, Micah went back to the bed, placed one hand over Lainey’s mouth, then gently shook her shoulder.

  She woke with a startled cry, the sound muffled by his hand.

  “They’ve found us,” Micah whispered. “Get dressed.”

  Lainey stared up at him, his words dissolving the cobwebs of sleep from her mind. Moving quickly, she got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, a heavy sweater, and sneakers.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Micah pulling a black sweatshirt over his head. Like her, he was also wearing jeans and sneakers.

  “I’m ready,” she whispered, hoping he didn’t hear the nervous quiver in her voice.

  Micah nodded. Grabbing the transmitter from the dresser drawer, he shoved it under his sweatshirt; then, as quietly as possible, he opened the bedroom window, helped Lainey climb over the sill, and followed her outside.

  Turning, he closed the window, then grabbed Lainey’s hand and ran toward the tree-studded hill that rose behind the cabin.

  They had just reached the tree line when a man shouted, “Over here!”

  “Tjete!” Micah swore under his breath as he recognized Mac’s voice. “Run, Lainey!” he said, pushing her in front of him.

  Without stopping to look back, Micah ran after her, scrambling up the side of the hill.

  “Cut ‘em off, Gene!” Mac hollered. “I’ve got you covered!”

  There was the sound of footsteps crashing through dry underbrush, and then a dark shape rose up out of the blackness of the night.

  “Stop!” Gene commanded. “I don’t want to shoot.”

  Fearful for Lainey’s life, Micah grabbed her by the arm and pushed her behind him.

  There was the roar of a gunshot, a slash of white hot pain as the bullet buried itself in the muscle of Micah’s left arm.

  Pain and anger warred within him, kindling the primal instinct to survive, to protect one’s mate. Without conscious thought, Micah focused his gaze on the man called Gene, felt the energy swell and coalesce from deep within him.

  The man screamed, a terrible high-pitched shriek of agony. Slowly, as if all his bones were dissolving, he toppled forward and rolled down the hill.

  Micah whirled around, reaching for Lainey, when a second shot reverberated through the night.

  Time seemed to have slowed, crystallizing every sound, every movement. He stared at Lainey in disbelief as she stumbled backward, her hand flying to her chest before she crumpled to the ground. Even in the darkness, he could see the dark crimson stain on her hand.

  With a feral cry, he turned on Mac, who was creeping up behind him. For a moment that seemed to stretch as long as infinity, they stared at each other.

  A vile oath erupted from Mac’s lips as he raised the gun, his finger curling around the trigger.

  Rage unlike anything he had ever known suffused Micah. He felt the power boiling up inside him, burning out of control.

  Time seemed to stop as Mac fired the gun.

  Micah felt the searing heat of the bullet, a sharp stab of pain as the slug buried itself high in his ri
ght shoulder.

  The sound of the gunshot echoed and re-echoed in the stillness of the night. A plume of blue-gray smoke eddied from the barrel of the revolver, slowly rising toward the sky.

  Fury as cold as the outer reaches of space rose up within Micah, overshadowing everything else. He felt the deadly power flow out of him, hotter than the fuel that propelled his ship, more devastating than the firestorms of Orizzon.

  A long, agonized cry of pain and fear blotted out all other sound as Mac’s skin blistered and turned black until there was nothing left but a pile of charred ashes.

  Shock had rendered his wounds momentarily numb. Knowing it wouldn’t last, Micah shoved the transmitter into his pants pocket, then yanked off his sweatshirt. He tore off one of the sleeves, made a thick pad, and placed it over the gaping wound in Lainey’s chest.

  Tearing the rest of his sweatshirt into strips, he wrapped them around her chest to hold the makeshift bandage in place, and then he gathered Lainey into his arms and carried her up the mountain.

  As the shock wore off, so did the numbness in his arm and shoulder. Each step jarred the bleeding wounds, sending shafts of bright white pain lancing through him, and still he kept going, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other.

  He was covered with perspiration when, at long last, he reached the top of the mountain.

  Gently, he placed Lainey on the ground. He gazed at her for a moment and then he pulled the transmitter from his pocket and activated the distress signal.

  With luck, Pergith would still be in the area.

  Sitting down, Micah drew Lainey into his arms and held her close, trying to warm her with the heat of his own body. He’d always been lucky, he thought as he rocked her gently back and forth. Always. He’d come through numerous disasters unscathed, had single-handedly battled his way off a cannibalistic planet, had rescued three children from a burning building on Quinton Rells, had survived the crash of his ship.

  He stroked Lainey’s hair, praying that his luck hadn’t run out. He could feel her temperature rising even though her body was trembling as though cold.