by Anne Stuart
Tanner ignored the unspoken plea. “I just hope you’re right.”
“Listen, Tanner, you have enough enemies around. Don’t add yourself to the list,” Doc said earnestly. “And for heaven’s sake, give me another cigarette. Who knows when Ginger’ll be back and get on my case again?”
Tanner made no move for the cigarettes. “Where is Ginger?” He’d been more than grateful not to have seen her. She’d made it clear the night before that she wasn’t the sort who appreciated being rejected, and while he didn’t fancy any sort of confrontation, her absence made him more than a little uneasy.
“‘Fraid my daughter’s not too fond of you right now.” Doc said easily. “Don’t worry about it. I brought the girl up the best I could when her mother took off, but I’m afraid certain things just didn’t stick too well. She wants what she wants, and she doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Sometimes she has to.”
“Well, that’s true. But she doesn’t have to like it. When you came in the front door she headed out the back. Said she was off to visit Ellie.”
He should have known, Tanner thought. He should have listened to his own inner misgivings. “I’d better be getting back,” he said abruptly, rising to his feet.
“Back where?”
“Back to Ellie’s.”
Doc nodded. “I thought so. Maybe I’d better give you a ride. I love my daughter, but she’s got the devil of a tongue, and I wouldn’t put it past her to twist it around some things that weren’t strictly true.”
Tanner didn’t even hesitate. “Let’s go.”
* * * * *
Ginger didn’t see or hear him walk in the kitchen door. Ellie did. He moved silently, gracefully, and she could see how he could survive unnoticed in wilderness areas that boasted such unfriendly critters as wolves and grizzlies. Right now Ellie wasn’t sure that Ginger was any less lethal than her four-legged kin.
“I’ve got bruises, Ellie,” Ginger was saying. “The man was an animal, all over me. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I think he’s—he’s a little crazy.”
The pause was good, Ellie thought cynically. Very effective. She moved her gaze from Tanner’s still, opaque eyes to Ginger’s wide blue ones, and shivered. The scary thing was, Ginger was beginning to believe what she was saying. Another time, another person, and Ellie would have believed her, too.
“I don’t remember,” she said carefully, “that you have too much practice saying no.”
“Oh, I admit, I was attracted to him,” Ginger said, pushing her mane of streaked blond hair back over her shoulder. “Who wouldn’t be? There’s that air of danger, that sexy mouth, those eyes of his. But it didn’t take me long to realize that he’s no good, as cruel and rotten as his father ever was. You may not realize it. He’s been all sweetness and light to you and his dear old granny. But I saw…”
Ellie had groaned in sudden dismay as Tanner stiffened in the kitchen doorway. Ginger finally came out of her self-absorption long enough to realize they weren’t alone, and her face froze as she took in Tanner’s still figure.
“My dear old granny?” he said finally. “I didn’t realize I had any kin left around here.” His voice was cold and empty. “At least, none who would acknowledge me. I guess I was right about that.”
“Tanner, it wasn’t that she wouldn’t acknowledge you,” Ellie said desperately, rising from her chair and knocking it over in sudden clumsiness. “She was afraid you wouldn’t forgive her for not helping your mother.”
“She was right,” he said coolly. “I presume we’re talking about Maude?”
“She’s a foolish old woman who can’t see you for what you are,” Ginger broke in spitefully.
Tanner smiled, his cold, gentle smile. “She sees through you clear enough.” He glanced back at Ellie, who was momentarily speechless with misery. “But I’m not sure your friend does.”
She opened her mouth to say something, to assure him that she hadn’t believed a word of Ginger’s lies, when the back door opened behind Tanner and Dave Martin bulldozed his way in, followed by Doc Barlow.
“There’s been an accident,” Doc announced, forestalling Martin. “I’ve got to get back to the house. Mrs. Martinez will need a few stitches, but it sounds as if she’s okay. I could use your help, Ginger.”
Ginger hesitated. “Coming,” she said finally, her voice sulky. She skirted Tanner, holding her body away as if the air around him might be contaminated, managed a tiny sashay for an unappreciative Dave Martin, and headed out the door. “Remember what I told you, Ellie,” she called back over her shoulder.
Tanner hadn’t moved. He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed, prepared to listen. If it hadn’t been for the savage look in his eyes, Ellie might have been fool enough to think he was at ease.
“What happened to Mrs. Martinez?” she asked, dread and despair filling her. “I lent her my car this afternoon. Is she badly hurt?”
“Your car lost its brakes,” Dave announced. “With a little help from someone who knows his way around cars. Doc’s right—she’s okay. She was only going about twenty-five, and she just skidded off the road. Probably won’t even need those stitches. What I want to know, Ellie, is when you last drove that car, and who else has been driving it? And I want to know, mister,” he turned and glowered at Tanner, “where you’ve been all day, and whether you’ve got any witnesses who can swear to your alibi.”
Tanner moved then, and for a moment Ellie held her breath, afraid of what he might do. But he merely headed for the door, ignoring Martin, ignoring her.
“Wait just a damned minute!” Dave was heading out after him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Tanner paused on the back porch, and Ellie thought she could see desolation and resignation in his eyes before his face once more grew impassive. “As far away from Morey’s Falls,” he said, “as my legs can carry me.” And he headed down the steps into the early evening light.
* * * * *
He’d gone. Ellie knew that, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d lied to him, or at least been party to a deception. She hadn’t told him Maude was Marbella’s mother. Maude had begged her not to, wanting a chance to get to know him, get close to him before he found out that she was one of the people who’d turned their backs on his mother when she was desperately in need. Ellie had helped give her that chance, and now it looked as if she’d destroyed her own in doing so.
Dave Martin had stood at her back door, shouting after Tanner’s retreating figure, and there’d been no way she could thrust him out of her path and go after Tanner, to try to explain. She’d stood there, trapped in her own kitchen, and watched him walk away, as he’d walked away so many times in his life.
The sun set late in Montana in June. It was ten o’clock, and the sky still held enough light to see Morey’s Ridge in the east. Ellie sat in her bed, among her clean, ruffled sheets, the cotton lace nightgown around her, and looked out into the twilit sky. How far would he make it tonight? Would he have gone back to the cabin for his pack, for food, or would he have just kept going?
If only she’d had a chance to tell him she trusted him. If only she’d had a chance to shut Ginger up, to silence Dave Martin, to run after him into the darkening shadows of the Montana night. Instead, there she was, left alone in her virgin bed, and he was somewhere up in the wilderness, moving away from her forever.
At least it was an unseasonably hot night. If he’d gone without his pack he’d be all right. But Tanner was too sensible for that—he would have gone back, packed everything up and been gone within an hour. He’d get quite a ways before it grew too dark to see. Would he reach the secret mountain meadow where they’d first met?
Ellie punched the pillow, squirming around in the bed. She could always drive out to his house to be certain. Within an hour of the accident people had called, offering her the use of their cars. The town pet was being taken care of again, she thought savagely. And they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
But she didn’t have to drive out Route 5 to Charles Tanner’s old place to know he was gone. She’d seen it in his eyes, in the line of his body, in the angle of his proud head as he walked out her door without a backward glance. He was gone, and she was left behind.
She leaned back on the soft feather pillow and shut her eyes. The moon was three-quarters full, shining in her window, gilding the tall, dark Victorian bed where she’d slept alone for almost fifteen years. The same moon was shining down on Tanner. Up in the mountains that same moon might be shining on someone else, someone evil, someone out with a gun or a bucket of red paint, someone out to spread pain and terror.
Her eyes shot open again, and a small, whimpering sound escaped the back of her throat. She didn’t want to lie there while Tanner moved farther and farther away from her. She didn’t want to lie alone ever again.
Throwing back the light cotton sheet, she climbed out of bed. She’d been passive for too long. She might not be able to find him, but she wasn’t going to stay there in her big dark house and let him go without a fight.
She didn’t bother changing—she just threw on an old pair of pants and a sweater over her nightgown while she made her plans. She would take Addie’s pickup and drive out to Maude’s place. She’d taken Shaitan out for moonlight rides before, and the high-strung stallion had picked his way sure-footedly along treacherous mountain paths without a stumble. He could find his way back to that meadow, even without the bright moon pouring down.
She had to accept the fact that Tanner might not be there, might already have headed higher up the mountain, beyond her reach. She’d accept that, if she had to. And while she didn’t know Alfred’s last name, or the town in the Sangre de Cristo mountains where Tanner would be heading, given her usual determination she’d find out both. And sooner or later she’d find Tanner.
Shaitan greeted her appearance in the old barn with a whirrup of approval. The farmhouse had been dark, with Maude in bed, and while Mazey and Hoover expressed forlorn displeasure at being left behind, they responded gratefully to being let out to pasture.
She didn’t bother with anything more than a bit and bridle. She dumped her sweater and jeans in a corner of the barn and scrambled onto Shaitan’s back. Her white cotton nightgown shimmered in the moonlight, flowing over the stallion’s black hide as she headed him toward the mountain trail east of Maude’s property. Her chestnut hair hung down her back, and her feet were bare in the warm night air. Wiggling her toes, she started up the mountain.
* * * * *
Morey’s ridge was still and silent above him. Darkness was descending, the late, streaky darkness of June in Montana. There was a soft, damp breeze ruffling the trees around him, smelling of yesterday’s rain, tomorrow’s flowers, the earth and the mountain and the clear stream at the edge of the meadow. The moon was a shimmering, fat crescent in the sky, with starlight spilling out around it, and Tanner took a deep, heady breath of the night air, letting the anger drain from him.
He’d been prepared to walk all night, up and over that mountain, moving into the wilderness, as far away from that cursed little town as his energy and stamina could carry him—as his personal devils could drive him. He’d left Ellie’s house four hours before, loaded his pack and taken off with only a few grateful souls to see him on his way.
How would they feel, he thought, when animals were found slaughtered and Tanner’s son was long gone? When the graves were still desecrated, the cars still sabotaged, the eyes still watching…?
That had slowed his headlong pace up the mountain. He’d left Ellie. Ellie, who had watchers peering in her window, Ellie, whose car had been tampered with. What if she’d been driving? What if she’d been zooming along at sixty-seven miles an hour, as she had earlier today?
He didn’t even know if she’d believed Ginger. He didn’t know if she’d listened to Dave Martin—chances were she hadn’t. And he didn’t blame her for not telling him about Maude. In the short time he’d known her, he knew Ellie wasn’t one to break a confidence. If Maude wanted to keep her identity a secret, Ellie wasn’t the one to break that secret.
He slipped the pack from his back and stretched his cramped muscles. The meadow looked different at night. Dark and mysterious, with moonlight silvering the aspens, turning the dew-damp grass to sparkling diamonds. The night was warm, waiting.
Waiting for what? It had to be close to eleven—the sun had set a little over an hour earlier. It was too late to head back down to town. He’d bed down here for the night, and the next morning he could decide.
Except that the decision had already been made. He wouldn’t leave Ellie in the midst of that mess. It was as good an excuse as any, he mocked himself, untying his sleeping bag and spreading it out over the thick carpet of grass and wildflowers. He knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that that was what it was. An excuse. Just a few days had passed, and he was too far gone. He couldn’t leave Ellie at all.
The pool was shallow enough to hold some heat from the long, sunny day. He stripped off his clothes and soaked his tired body, then climbed back out. It was warm enough not to wear his shirt, so he just pulled on his jeans, zipping them but not bothering with the snap. He squatted down by his pack, looking for the dried trail mix he always kept handy, when he heard the sound of her horse. And knew what he’d been waiting for.
He rose slowly, standing very still, watching her approach. She’d given Shaitan his head, and the big black stallion was picking his way carefully through the dense summer grasses. The soft breeze was blowing toward Tanner, and it wasn’t until they were close that the horse picked up his scent. The ears went back, the head went up, and Tanner held his breath.
And then Shaitan let out a small, quiet whicker of greeting as he continued toward Tanner’s waiting figure. Ellie was watching him, but even in the bright moonlight he couldn’t read her expression. It was enough that she’d come.
She was wearing something long and white and flowing, and her thick dark hair hung down her back. Her long, pale legs hugged the barrel of the horse, and her feet were bare. Her hands were light on the reins, letting Shaitan lead her. And Shaitan led her straight to Tanner.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
* * *
She could see Tanner standing at the edge of the meadow, near the clear mountain pool. He was watching her approach, and if the bright moonlight silvered his blond head and cast a tall, eerie moon shadow behind him, it failed to illuminate his expression. He didn’t move. He simply waited.
Shaitan was apparently unaffected by her doubts. He moved ahead, trusting in the man even as Ellie still struggled with her thoughts. Maybe she was the last person he wanted to see. Maybe she’d been a fool to come searching for him. Maybe she should quickly kick Shaitan into action and race back down the mountain.
It was unseasonably warm for a late-June night. Tanner’s pack was lying on the ground, his sleeping bag unzipped and spread out on the grass. She’d let Shaitan get a little closer, just close enough to read his expression. If it wasn’t welcoming, she could leave.
His dark-blond hair was wet and slicked back away from his face. His mouth was a narrow line, thin and unsmiling, and his cold blue eyes were in shadow. Ellie could feel the dampness in her hands as they held the reins, feel the trembling in her knees. Somewhere in the distance an old owl hooted, and overhead a million stars warred with the bright moonlight to flood the field with light. Shaitan reached the end of the field, reached Tanner, and stopped complacently, as Tanner lifted one strong, tanned hand to stroke the skittish stallion’s sleek black neck. The man raised his head then, to look directly into her face, and his eyes glittered in the darkness.
Ellie didn’t move.
Fear was supposed to be a cold, hard lump in the chest. Her fear was a blaze of fire burning deep inside, much lower down. She didn’t say a word, and neither did he. He merely stood there, his strong hand stroking Shaitan’s neck. And then he moved closer, and his hand left the horse, reaching to catch her bare ankle in his long fingers.
His flesh was hot, hers was cool. He slid his hand up her calf, up to the ruffled hem of her lacy nightdress. Before she realized his intent he’d pushed the material away, exposing her bad knee. His mouth followed his hand, tracing the line of scars that stretched along her leg.
She heard a quick, shocked intake of breath, and vaguely realized it was her own. And then his hands were reaching up, encircling her waist, and he was lifting her down, down from Shaitan’s high back, her body sliding against his, her skirts bunching up around her thighs, his warm, bare shoulders damp beneath her trembling hands.
When her bare feet at last touched the ground she was wrapped in his arms, her hips against his, her breasts beneath the thin barrier of cotton pressed up against his hard, muscled chest, her arms clinging around his neck as if to a lifeline.
He looked down at her, his blue eyes dark in the moonlight, and belatedly Ellie realized it wasn’t just fear burning deep inside her. It was desire, pure, simple and overwhelming.
She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what. To tell him that she loved him, to tell him not to worry. But he gave his head an imperceptible shake, and his lips covered hers, stopping the words before they could be formed.
His mouth was warm, wet, seeking hers, heating her chilled heart, burning her lingering fears away. His hands reached up and held her head still, as his mouth brushed back and forth across her lips, dampening them, arousing them, so that unconsciously she was seeking him with her mouth, trying to catch him long enough to hold him.
And then he deepened the kiss, holding her still as his tongue plunged into the willing darkness of her mouth. He kissed her long and hard and deep, taking his time, until they were both trembling and breathless in the moonlit air.