Desire by Starlight

by Radclyffe

  “What?” Jenna asked, drifting again.

  “I said, this sabbatical thing isn’t going to work if all you’re going to do is behave exactly the same way here as you do in the city.” Alice pointed a finger at her. “You can’t work twenty hours a day.”

  “Writing is not work for me.”

  “Tell that to your body. Remember why you’re here?” Alice’s frown softened. “I think you should come back to Manhattan as soon as you can. What more do you have to do here, anyhow?”

  “I haven’t made any real provisions for Elizabeth’s property,” Jenna pointed out. She’d intentionally been stalling and hadn’t contacted the realtor. Elizabeth had been buried in the family plot per her instructions. Also according to her wishes, friends and neighbors had been asked to make a donation to the local farm preservation association in lieu of flowers or a service. All that remained was for Jenna to secure the paintings and put the house on the market. She hadn’t done anything about either, because when she did, she’d have to decide whether to go or stay. And she didn’t want to make the obvious choice. Her life awaited her in New York City. Little Falls was a detour, a pleasant side road, and she had no reason to linger. The pain lodged deep in her breast throbbed.

  “I know you’ve got the book on your mind and don’t want to be bothered with details, so I talked to my friend Diane,” Alice said. “She’s the gallery owner I told you about. She’s going to drive up Friday night and look at the paintings Saturday morning. She’ll give us an appraisal and then you can decide if you want to sell them, store them, or donate them to a local museum.”

  Friday—the day after tomorrow. By early next week she could have all the arrangements made and be gone. Five or six more days of torturing herself, wanting to call Gard but resisting. Once she was back in New York, her life would be all Cassandra again. She’d be too busy to think about any kind of serious romantic involvement. If she wanted company, she knew how to get it. Another week and all of her problems would be gone, because she would be gone.

  “All right, I’ll call the attorney tomorrow and have him set up an appointment for me to meet with a realtor. After the appraisal, I’ll decide about the art, and then I’ll come home.”

  Alice nodded briskly. “Good. Whatever’s happening up here is making you unhappy. That’s reason enough to leave.”

  Jenna didn’t argue. She saw no point in explaining to Alice that what had happened up here made her happy, and that’s what she didn’t know how to handle.

  With a sigh, she turned back to her computer. This was what she knew. This was what she was good at. This was where she and Cassandra became one. Her world righted itself.

  *

  Jenna jerked awake, searching the darkened room in confusion. The computer glowed on the desk in front of her, the cursor jumping at the end of the last words she’d typed. The house was silent, the night outside dark. Something had awakened her, perhaps the dream that still flirted at the edges of her consciousness. The simmering tension in her middle told her the fragmented images of a dark-haired woman ghosting through her mind were surely Gard. God, she couldn’t stop thinking of her while awake, and now she was dreaming about her too. She hadn’t been this derailed by a woman since her first crush, when she’d thought herself madly in love the way only a sixteen-year-old could be. She was certain she’d outgrown those tumultuous hormonal upheavals, but apparently not. Her nerves were shattered, she couldn’t eat, and a dull persistent throbbing in her depths hounded her for relief. She hadn’t even tried. No self-induced orgasm was going to give her a tenth of the pleasure as those few insane moments wrapped in Gard’s arms. She wondered if another woman could drive out the memories. Maybe, if she could manage to keep Gard out of her mind. That didn’t seem likely, and the idea of trying, of being with another woman held less than no appeal. Time to stop kidding herself on that score. No one was going to do for her, to her, what Gard had done. No one could touch her that way, down deep, beneath everything.

  Rising, she stretched her back and winced at the kinks along her spine from the long hours in the chair. Of course, falling asleep over her keyboard hadn’t helped her sore muscles. She loved working in the sewing room she’d converted into her office, but sleeping in it wasn’t a great idea.

  A knock sounded from the direction of the front door and she leaned down to squint at the digital readout on the screen. 3:15 a.m. The knocking must have awakened her. Spinning around, she hurried to the front door. She twitched the lace curtain aside and stared out, able only to see a silhouette backlit by starlight. She didn’t need to turn on the porch light. The shape was unmistakable. Her heart literally fluttered, which she hadn’t thought possible anywhere outside of her novels. She grasped the cut-glass doorknob and pulled open the heavy oak door.

  “Gard?”

  “There’s something you need to see,” Gard said.

  “Is everything all right?” Jenna asked.

  “Yes, but we need to hurry.”

  Jenna looked down at herself. She’d worked all day in threadbare jeans ripped out at the knees from years of wear and not fashion, a black T-shirt with FLETC stenciled across the chest—a gift from a reader in federal law enforcement, and sneakers without socks. Her writing uniform. She was a mess. “I’m not really dressed—”

  “You’re great. You’re always great.”

  Ordinarily, she would never rush out into the night without knowing who, where, why, what for…and maybe not even then. But this was Gard. She’d been able to stay away from her when only Gard’s image haunted her every moment—awake or asleep—but she couldn’t turn away from her in the flesh. She grabbed her denim jacket off a peg next to the door and bolted outside.

  “Come on.” Gard palmed Jenna’s elbow and hurried her down the stairs and across the yard to her truck. Jenna climbed in while Gard shot around and got behind the wheel. Gard gunned the truck around the circular drive and down the lane.

  Jenna didn’t ask where they were going and Gard didn’t volunteer. In another time, another life, she would have questioned her. Tonight, she didn’t care where they were going. She was with Gard and the night, the dark, the uncertain destination did not frighten her.

  She breathed easily for the first time in days. Wherever they were headed, she trusted Gard to lead her there.

  *

  Jenna estimated they’d driven ten miles in under ten minutes when Gard turned off the paved road onto a bumpy gravel lane only a little bit wider than her truck. Gard was driving fast and Jenna could barely make out cornfields encroaching on either side. She’d forgotten how dark it could be when there were no streetlights. The only illumination came from the hazy swath of the Milky Way and their headlights casting ghostly shadows as the truck bumped along.

  They rounded a curve and the silhouettes of a jumble of buildings appeared. Windows on the first floor of a rambling farmhouse were aglow, but no one seemed to be moving inside. Weak yellow light spilled out through the open doors of an enormous three-story barn.

  “This is Dan Carmichael’s place,” Gard said.

  “What’s happening?” Jenna asked.

  “Dan called me forty-five minutes ago. He’s got a mare about to foal. She had trouble the first time and we lost the foal. He wanted me to be here, and I wasn’t sure you’d get another chance to see this.”

  “Oh!” Jenna squeezed Gard’s arm. She wasn’t sure what was more exciting—seeing a foal born or just seeing Gard again. It didn’t really matter. She was sharing part of Gard’s life and the night was suddenly perfect. “Thank you.”

  Gard stopped the truck in front of the barn. “I would’ve called, but I didn’t have much time and I thought—”

  “No. You did exactly right. Exactly.”

  “Okay. Good.” Gard nodded briskly. “I won’t be able to talk very much until I see how things are going, and I’ll need you to stay back in case the mare gets twitchy.”

  “Whatever you say. You just put me where you want me and I
won’t move.”

  Gard grinned and pushed open her door. “I’ll remember you told me that.”

  “Smart-ass,” Jenna muttered. She caught up to Gard on the way to the barn and was about to take her hand when a man dressed in tan canvas pants and a sweat-stained T-shirt appeared in the open doorway. He had a three-day growth of beard and a thatch of brown hair in need of a trim. He looked to be about forty, big and rough-boned. When he called to them, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “Thanks for getting here so quickly. She’s moving right along. Her water just broke.”

  “Stage two,” Gard murmured. “Dan, this is Jenna.”

  “Hello. She’s down here.” He turned and led the way into the barn as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a stranger to show up at his place in the middle of the night. Jenna stayed a little bit behind Gard, not wanting to get underfoot. The huge barn held stalls on either side of a wide central passageway. Stacks of hay filled an overhead loft and pieces of tack hung from posts and draped stall doors. Most of the stalls contained horses, who stuck their heads over the doors and whinnied as they passed. Light from a hanging bulb shone at the far end of the building and when they drew near, she saw a tan mare with hugely swollen sides pacing restlessly inside an enclosure. Her flanks were sweat soaked and her nostrils flared with every breath.

  “God, she looks so uncomfortable,” Jenna said, feeling a little bit of sympathetic nausea just looking at the laboring mare. “Why doesn’t she lie down?”

  “She might when she gets closer to delivering,” Gard said quietly. “Although some horses deliver standing. In the wild, it all happens fast so the mother and baby can keep pace with the herd, where they’re safe.”

  “What do you need to do?”

  “Nothing right now. The best thing is just to let her do what she was born to do naturally. I’m only the backup.” Gard stripped off her shirt, revealing a tight black T-shirt underneath, and strode to a utility sink opposite the enclosure. After soaking her arms, she lathered up to her elbows with a bar of industrial soap. She shook her arms to get most of the water off and, turning to Jenna, dried off with a cloth she grabbed from a stack on a shelf over the sink. “If she gets into trouble, then we may need to give her a little help.”

  Dan leaned against the stall, turning a faded John Deere cap around and around in his big hands. “Last time the foal got backed around and we couldn’t get him out fast enough.”

  Jenna moved up next to him and rested her forearms on top of the chest-high gated door. The mare snorted and paced. “Is there any way to tell about this one?”

  “We’ll know soon enough. She doesn’t seem to be in any trouble, but I didn’t want to take any chances. That’s why I called Gard.”

  Jenna swelled with pride, thinking of the vital role Gard played in the lives of the people in this small town. Gard was important to their livelihood, to their lives. She belonged here.

  The mare lay down and almost immediately got up again. She circled around some more. Then she lay down, sides heaving, and she did not get up.

  “Here we go.” Gard eased close to Jenna. Faint traces of water still glistened on her skin, and she smelled of soap. She looked steady and strong and confident. She was the most beautiful woman Jenna’d ever seen.

  “There’s a foot,” Dan said.

  “Good,” Gard said softly. “And there’s foot number two.”

  “That’s good, right?” Jenna couldn’t keep quiet. She was too captivated, too thrilled. The night closed in around her, the only sounds the gentle whinnies of the rest of the horses and the grunts of the mare who worked so hard to give life to the creature inside her. They might have been anywhere in the world, at any time—or no time at all. All that mattered was right here in this moment, no past and no future. Just the exquisite beauty of what was happening right before her very eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d grasped Gard’s hand until she felt warm, strong fingers squeeze her own. Gard leaned close.

  “It’s okay. See the nose peeking out between the feet? Mama’s doing fine.” Gard rubbed Jenna’s back. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Oh, yes.” Jenna blinked back tears. Just like you.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Thirty-five minutes later, the foal staggered to her feet and stood on wobbly legs, wet and scrawny and the most incredible creature Jenna had ever seen. Gard eased into the stall and knelt in the straw next to the baby, slowly and gently examining her. They were both gorgeous—woman and horse—unique and special and breathtaking. Jenna wished she was a photographer or a painter instead of a writer, because she couldn’t think of any words perfect enough to describe the picture. After a few minutes, Gard checked the mother, then turned to Jenna.

  “You want to come see her?”

  “Is it all right?”

  “Mama won’t want us in here for long, but a minute or two should be okay. Just approach slowly and don’t make any sudden noises.”

  Jenna tiptoed into the stall and halted next to Gard, a few feet from the foal. The baby, a darker brown than her mother with a white blaze on her chest and white socks on her forelegs, endured a tongue washing from her mother, barely able to stay upright under the maternal onslaught. “When will she nurse?”

  “Soon. We’ll stay until she does. Once that happens, we’re home free.”

  Just at that moment, the foal stumbled over to Jenna and nudged her hand. Her nose was wet and warm and soft beyond description. Velvet came to mind, but that wasn’t quite right. Even velvet had some texture, but this baby’s nose was far smoother. Jenna caught her breath and stood absolutely still as the inquisitive little being explored her fingertips. Gard slid her arm around Jenna’s waist and squeezed lightly.

  “Worth getting up for in the middle of the night?” Gard whispered.

  “Oh yes,” Jenna said as they backed out of the stall and the foal, encouraged with a few nudges from her mother, finally found the appropriate target and began to nurse.

  Jenna caught a hint of sweet hay and soap, the scents she associated with Gard, and knew the odors would forever be associated with this woman and this exquisite, perfect moment. She leaned her head against Gard’s shoulder. “Worth getting up for every night.”

  Gard chuckled and stroked her hair. “You say that now. After fifty or so, you might change your mind. About eighty percent of the births occur in the middle of the night.”

  “Have you gotten used to it?” Jenna already knew the answer—it was written in the soft, peaceful contours of Gard’s face and the slow easy timbre of her voice. She was at home here. Content. Jenna had never strived for contentment, never even thought she wanted it. Success yes, satisfaction in her work. Yes. Satisfaction in bed now and then. Sure. But contentment? That peace of the heart that comes only from being exactly where you belong, doing exactly what you were meant to do, living the life that completely suited you—no. She hadn’t wanted that. Until now.

  Dan cleared his throat beside them. “I guess I dragged you out here for nothing, Gard. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” Gard said. “I wish every call ended this way. Glad to do it.”

  “Besides,” Jenna added. “This is my first time.”

  Dan laughed and tugged his John Deere cap down over his unruly hair. “It never gets old.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I don’t suppose it does. What are you going to name her?”

  Dan looked puzzled. “Hadn’t thought on it.”

  “Jenna’s a writer,” Gard called from the sink where she had gone to wash up. “She might have an idea.”

  “Go ahead,” Dan said. “Do the honors.”

  “You’re sure?” Jenna glanced from Dan to Gard, who grinned at her. When Dan nodded she watched the foal nurse, its wide brown eyes soft with contentment. Calmness, warmth, and an astonishing sense of peace coursed through her. “Harmony.”

  “Pretty,” Dan said.

  “Perfect,” Gard murmured.

  Gard’s gaze was so warm, s
o intimate, Jenna’s eyes filled. Everything was perfect. She turned quickly away—hormones, that’s all. Totally out-of-control hormones.

  “Thank you,” she told Dan and once outside, hooked her arm through Gard’s. “That was amazing. I can’t thank you enou—”

  “No thanks needed.” Gard’s voice was raspy and when they’d settled in the cab, she sat for a moment in silence as if making a decision. “I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”

  Jenna laughed. “Somehow, I think we’ve been here before.”

  Gard grinned and reached for the keys. “Yeah. My repertoire is a little thin, I guess.”

  Jenna rested her hand on Gard’s wrist. “I’m famished. Oscar’s?”

  “You sure?”

  “Very sure.”

  Gard glanced over at her. “Why did you come tonight? I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “I knew when I saw you at the door something important was happening.” Jenna didn’t add she would have gone with her for any reason, needing to be careful that the beauty of the night and all that had happened didn’t carry her away. She’d never felt anything as right as sitting in the front seat of Gard’s truck in the middle of the silent countryside, watching starlight flicker over Gard’s face and waiting for dawn. She could so easily lose herself here, and yet, despite the risks, she couldn’t bring herself to deny her feelings. “And…I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” Gard heaved a sigh and turned on the truck. “I kept thinking you might leave.”

  “Alice has arranged for an art dealer to come up this weekend. Once the paintings are taken care of, I can show the house. I’ll probably meet with the realtor next week.”