by Ann Gimpel
“Yes, sir. I give her full credit.” Tim held out a hand. John clasped it warmly.
John smiled, really smiled. He was usually so serious, it took Moira by surprise. “Come on, everybody.” He clapped his hands together once more. “Get moving. Need to take advantage of this weather window while we’ve got it. Let me know how I can help.”
“Most of the expensive stuff is in here.” Moira pointed to the supply tent. “And Mitch’s body is wherever Jake laid him out.”
“Okay.” Her boss’s usual dour demeanor was back in spades. “We’ll start with Mitch and see that he’s in the first chopper trip out of here. Lead the way.”
* * * *
Moira eyed the skies. So far, luck had been with them, and the chopper was just returning from its fourth trip shuttling material back to Cedar Grove, the roar of its rotors loud in her ears.
“Clear weather’s not going to last much longer.” John made his way to her side burdened with two full packs.
Tim dragged one of the heavy canvas tents to their staging area. He’d broken it down and packaged it for transport. “What else?” He walked to where she and John stood.
“Probably all we’ll have room for,” John replied. “This next trip will be the last one. Wind’s picking up, which is never a good sign. I’ll do one more quick pass to make certain we didn’t miss anything critical.” Turning, he trotted over the tamped down snow and disappeared into one of the two tents they’d left standing.
Moira took the opportunity to give Tim a quick kiss. “Thanks.” She beamed at him. “You’ve worked your ass off for us.”
“Least I could do.” He grinned back and took her hand. “What happens once we get back? I’ll be on the wrong side of the Sierras.”
“Guess I’ll just have to grab a park vehicle and drive you home.”
“Ask for a couple days off. Once we get there, I suspect you won’t want to leave.” He winked broadly.
“I like the way you think.” Her heart swelled with love for the man by her side. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and never leave.
“Don’t encourage me, mo ghrá. You never know where it might lead—”
John loped back to where they stood. “Nope. We’re good.”
The chopper touched down amid blowing snow. Once the fine, white mist settled, they each grabbed something and loaded the helicopter.
Once that was done, Moira settled into one of two back seats across a narrow aisle from Tim. The bird rose, banked, and headed west. When Tim snaked a hand across the aisle and rested in in her lap, she clasped it.
Happy. I never believed I could be this happy.
“Believe it, mo ghrá,” sounded deep in her mind. “I’ll devote my life to making certain you stay that way.”
“Will I be able to talk with you that way?” She kept her words low, but there wasn’t much risk of John or the pilot hearing over the engine noise.
Tim nodded. “Probably. It’s part of how we’re bound.” He tightened his fingers around hers and she squeezed back. “Try to get some rest.”
She stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips, loving the feel of him. “Great advice, but this is a really short chopper ride. Less than half an hour.”
“Let me help then.”
A soothing warmth surrounded her, tinged with Tim’s heather and mead scent. It was like he was hugging her from across the aisle, and she sank into the warmth of his love.
All too soon, the bird circled, preparing to land.
“Did that help?” Tim caught her gaze and held it. At her nod, he went on. “I’m sorry about Ryan. If there’d been any other way—”
“I know,” she cut in. “Now’s a time for us to look forward, not back.”
“Agreed, but if you ever want to talk about—well, about any of it, we can. I want you to be able to talk with me about anything.”
“Same goes on my side.”
“Hang on, kids.” John’s voice cracked through the speaker. “We’re almost home.”
Chapter Nine
Tim glanced sidelong at Moira before returning his attention to the road. They’d left Three Rivers hours ago, and she’d needed a break, so he’d taken over at the wheel. Another ninety minutes, and they’d be in Bishop. Moira sprawled in the passenger seat with her head resting on an arm propped against the window. Her wheat-colored hair spilled around her, lush with curls. He loved looking at the clean lines of her cheeks and jaw. At her full lips and up-turned nose. At the swell of breasts beneath her uniform shirt.
He still couldn’t believe they were linked for now and forever, and he thanked whichever of the gods—or goddesses—had allowed him a second chance to be with the only woman he’d ever cared about. His cock rose to attention remembering the feel of her body around it. At first he ignored the sensations streaming through him and pushed his erection to a more comfortable position, the reaction second nature. After all, he’d sublimated his sexuality for years.
I don’t have to do that anymore.
The revelation was startling and thrilling. His cock throbbed against his belly, clearly liking the idea too. He glanced out the window, hunting for a place to stop. It didn’t matter when they got to his house. Moira had the rest of the week off. This part of Highway 395 held a million possibilities, with dirt roads leading into the mountains on both sides. He found a likely prospect and slowed the car. Turning off the pavement as gently as possible, he drove for another half mile down a rutted dirt road.
Moira stirred, and her gorgeous eyes flickered open. “Where are we?”
“Around the Tioga Pass turnoff. I thought... I mean I hoped...”
Moira’s laughter chimed like temple bells. She slid a hand into his lap and curled it around his ridged flesh. “Hoped you’d get lucky?”
Tim felt his face flush. He pulled onto a spur off the dirt road and killed the engine. Holding out his arms, he quirked a brow. “Well, will I?”
“I’d say it’s a strong possibility.”
She fell across the console into his arms and angled her face for a kiss. He covered her mouth with his, delighted when she opened to his questing tongue. Moira closed her arms around him and splayed her hands across his back. She nipped his lower lip and kneaded his shoulders with strong, nimble fingers.
He could’ve kissed her for hours, exploring her face and lips and ears and neck with his mouth. She moved a hand back to curve around his cock, caressing it through his trousers. He reached between them to unbutton her blouse, and she tore her mouth from his.
“Outside.”
He was so lost in wanting her, the word didn’t register. He tugged her shirt out of the way and rubbed her erect nipples through her bra.
Moira cupped the side of his face. “Outside. There’s a tarp in the back of the car. We can lay it on the ground and—”
Tim grinned feeling like an idiot. “Sorry, mo ghrá, afraid I missed lovemaking 101. You’ll have to be patient.”
She cast a fond smile his way. “It’s not about patient. This is a totally self-serving suggestion on my part. Plus, I didn’t notice any gaps in your knowledge base the other night.”
“Yeah, well, you can thank med school for that. Plus I’ve been making love to you in my dreams forever.”
“That’s very sweet, ’cause you never left mine, either. Not really.” She gave him one last, lingering kiss and pushed the car door open. Going around to the back, she opened the hatch of the Park Service SUV. He joined her, peering inside. “What can we use?”
“This.” Moira handed him a folded tarp. “And I’ll get a couple blankets. Every car has something slightly different in it. Basically, they’re equipped for survival if you get stranded.”
He trotted to a patch of level ground and deployed the tarp. They were far enough from the highway, he wasn’t worried about being disturbed. When Moira came with the blankets, he pried them out of her arms and arranged them over the tarp. With a small mock bow, he wove a hand around her waist. “Your bo
wer awaits, mo ghrá.”
She came into his arms, body full against him. He pushed his hands up under her hair and cradled her head, just looking at her, drinking in her beauty. Hunger for him danced in the backs of her eyes, and she ran a finger down the side of his face. Turning, he captured it in his mouth, sucking on the tip.
“I still can’t get over being able to make love with you whenever I want.” A catch rode beneath her words.
He let go of her finger. “It does feel like a miracle, all in itself.” One at a time, he finished undoing the buttons of her shirt, not in any hurry, enjoying undressing her. She reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, and he pushed it up so he could fill his hands with her luscious breasts. He rolled the nipples between his fingers, and she leaned into him, making a purring noise that did extraordinary things to his cock.
“We made ourselves a bed. Let’s lie down,” she murmured breathlessly.
Tim knelt on the blankets and eased her down next to him. He unlaced her boots and levered them off before returning to her breasts. Her fingers were busy at his waistband, and she unfastened his belt and pants, freeing his cock. Her hands on him were better than his wildest imaginings, but when she slithered out of his grip, kissed her way down his belly and took him into her mouth, he had to weave magic into the mix to keep from exploding.
She ran a hand up his shaft and laved the head of his penis with her tongue. Everywhere she touched him, a million sparks danced. He plunged a hand between her legs and met fabric. Placing a hand on either side of her head, he pulled his erection from her mouth.
“Hold that thought, darling. I got sidetracked. Let’s get the rest of these clothes off you.” He undid her pants and pulled them down her legs, freeing both this time. Next he stripped off her panties and socks. Starting with her feet, he ran his tongue between her toes, sucking each one before moving up her inner legs, keeping his mouth glued to her warm, pliant flesh.
She jackknifed her body around and recaptured him in her mouth, taking him deep. He thrust into the steamy heat of her and forced himself to continue his thorough exploration of her legs with his mouth, getting to know every muscle, every nuance. He wanted to plunge his tongue into her musky center, but hoped she’d be so primed for him, she’d come almost as soon as he latched onto her clit.
Moira altered his plans when she dragged his mouth upward until it was inches from her hot core. He held off, just breathing on her as her hips writhed beneath him. In a single movement, he pushed two fingers inside her and closed his mouth over her clit, sucking hard. She dissolved around him in a flood of heat, crying his name. In her passion, she worked his cock harder with mouth and hands. All the magic in the world couldn’t stave off his orgasm, and it bubbled out of him in jets of white hot glory that didn’t shave much off his lust.
She drank him dry, and he pulled from her mouth. “Turn over.” His voice was rough with wanting her. “We’re not done.”
“I’ll never be done with you.” She grinned wantonly. “We waited too long for this.”
“Over, wench. On your knees.”
Her chest and face were splotched with a lovely rose color. When she flipped over, he saw that her back was too. Her sex gleamed wetly, surrounded by golden curls.
With a cry he barely recognized as his own voice, Tim surged forward, burying his still-hard cock in the scorching heat of her. Because he’d just come, he didn’t have to ride an edge of control. He drove into her hard and fast, wanting to make her his forever. She met him stroke for stroke, pushing back against him until the whole world was awash in sensation.
His cock swelled inside her, harder than it had ever been. He gripped her hips like a drowning man. When he felt the contractions of her climax around him, he let himself go, juddering into her until the world shimmered with power, and he realized sex was yet one more road to his magic.
He held her against him, kneeling behind her, until his cock softened and slid from her body. Then he lay next to her and gathered her into his arms. “If I’d known how good this would be, I don’t know if I’d have been able to hold off.”
She cradled his face in her hands. “No looking back. I’m just happy we have a life ahead of us. I still can’t quite believe it.”
“Me, either.” He kissed the tip of her nose and held her, glorying in the feel of her in his arms.
She shivered and pulled one end of the blanket over them. “Probably should get moving. I’d love to stay here forever and block the world out, but I’m hungry.”
“You being hungry is a very good thing. We should take advantage of it.” He sat and handed her clothes to her before gathering his own and putting them on. Getting to his feet, he offered her a hand and then bent to the task of folding the blankets. Moira tackled the tarp.
The cool breeze around them shifted to a harsh wind. Bushes and trees rattled, and stones rose in small vortices, creating glowing mandalas in the air. Tim scented power, and dropped the blankets. He wrapped his arms around Moira, who’d let go of the tarp.
Her eyes widened; her body stiffened in his arms. “What the hell is that? I thought Ryan was dead.”
“He is. Make no mistake about it. What you feel is magic, though. Native American, if I’m any judge.” He urged her toward the car. “I can handle whatever this is, but I need you to lock yourself in the car. Metal will shield you from—”
“There’s no need for that. I do not mean her harm.”
Singing Bear stepped from one of the shimmering mandalas. His silver-streaked black hair was braided into two thick plaits that fell to his waist. Form-fitting leather garments hugged his tall, spare form, and homemade boots laced to his knees. Deep lines accentuated his hawk-like nose and high cheekbones. A silver bracelet set with turquoise curled around one wrist.
Tim faced the apparition with his hands raised to summon power. He didn’t sense danger, but Ryan’s father might well want revenge for his son’s death. Tim picked his words carefully. “I recognize your energy from when I first met you. Why have you chosen to show yourself?”
“I think it’s all right. He always liked me.” Moira twisted away from Tim and addressed her next words to Singing Bear. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again. I’m sorry about what happened to—”
He waved her to silence. “Ryan is why I’m here. Indulge me for a moment, daughter-in-law. I owe you an apology.”
Tim waited, energy at the ready in case it was a ruse.
Singing Bear inclined his head Tim’s way. “Thank you for allowing me to speak. Your magic is more powerful than mine, and you could force me away.”
“Why do you owe me an apology?” Moira asked. “I never blamed you for Ryan’s screw-ups.”
“You don’t understand.” Singing Bear’s form wavered, and then solidified again. “Your friend will, though, since he is a magic man in his own right. Power marks you, brands you, if you will. It takes a strong vessel to hold power and not be seduced by it. Controlled by it.” He cast a glance Tim’s way as if asking for help.
Tim nodded. “It’s the same with my order. Those who have weak characters don’t do well. Power drives them mad. We try to weed those out at the front end of things. Easier for everybody that way.”
“Exactly.” Singing Bear made a hand sign of assent. “It pains me to admit, but Ryan was weak. I knew his spirit was too fragile to wield power, but he was my only son, so I kept hoping something would change. In truth, I never should have let him anywhere near anything magical.”
He latched his dark gaze onto Moira. “That, white woman, is what I am sorry for. I hoped you might change Ryan. Give him the strength he lacked.” Emotion played over his stark features. “I encouraged the marriage—even though it was outside our bloodlines. Not for you, but for my son.”
Singing Bear turned away. “I knew what Ryan was. I should have warned you, but I was selfish and held my peace. I have far-seeing dreams. I ignored them all—until the one that told me your life was in danger. Then I acted. I than
k the Great Ones I was not too late.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Moira said in a pain-filled voice. “You did your best by Ryan. I saw you try to help him so many times—”
“Stop! Don’t make excuses for me. I used you. I hoped your strength of character would rub off on my son and somehow save him.” The old Native American bowed until his head almost touched the ground before straightening. “For that, I am most humbly sorry.”
“We appreciate the effort it took for you to come to us—” Tim began, cognizant of the other man’s pain, and wanting to mitigate it.
“I’m not done,” Singing Bear cut in. “My next words are for you, Druid. When I understood Ryan had returned that night in the wilderness—still intent on killing Moira—I hurried back, but another Druid stopped me. Assured me you had things under control.”
Tim nodded. “That would’ve been Liam. He was worried about me, yet knew my time to wield destructive magic had finally arrived.”
Singing Bear paused, his features scrunched in embarrassment and resignation. “It was providential you were there because you finished what I didn’t have the heart for. Ryan needed to move on. He was too damaged to remain in this life. Perhaps when his journey begins anew, his spirit will grow straighter.”
“I hope that too,” Tim said, all too aware of how broken hopes and dreams could scar a life.
“For the two of you,” the shaman spread his arms wide, “I offer my blessings for a long and fruitful life together. It isn’t much, but I want you to know I bear you no ill will. Quite the opposite.”
Tears streaked Moira’s face. “If you were here, I’d hug you.”
“Thank you, daughter. You were a far better wife than my son deserved.”
The air turned incandescent around them, bathing the glade where they stood with every color of the rainbow. Tim wrapped his arms around Moira from behind and held her until the colors faded.
“He’s quite a man,” Tim said. “To be that candid and blunt about your own blood is rare.”
“He gave us a clean slate.” Moira’s eyes sheened with fresh tears.