The Bride Wore Starlight

by Lizbeth Selvig

  “Don’t be melodramatic,” she said out loud, and let the darkness swallow the sound. Muddy Waters swiveled his ears back, listening for more of her voice. “You aren’t depending on me for anything are you?” she asked him and knew the question was stupid on its face. Any horse united with a human by virtue of a saddle and bridle had to trust every minute its rider wouldn’t put him in harm’s way. Muddy needed her as much as she needed him.

  She wasn’t sure she had any ability to promise this horse he could trust her. Her legs had been strong for the first five minutes. Now they felt like noodles tied to the stirrups with licorice.

  Alec had argued that she should be the one to stay with Rowan. From a strictly physical standpoint he’d been right. He had five times her stamina and strength. But Rowan had started to whine and whimper in her sleep. It took a great deal of pain to make a dog complain out loud. She had a long, deep laceration on her leg, and although it didn’t look like it had punctured the joint capsule, Joely couldn’t be sure in the dark. Joint infection was a possibility and that could be life threatening. At the very least the wound needed stitching, and the longer they waited to get help, the less likely it would be that Rowan survived. If Alec were to get lost, a highly likely scenario, nobody would come looking for them for two more days.

  The musings helped her pass another five minutes. She knew exactly where she was, and it didn’t comfort her much. She hadn’t made much progress over the soggy ground. She might as well have been plodding along pulling an old milk wagon. A solid thirty miles remained to the ranch and she’d be able to access certain cell coverage once she was within a couple of miles. The section of highway traversing the ranch was slightly closer. She might find cell coverage sooner, but the coverage was spotty at best and she could wander miles out of her way to find a clear signal.

  For the moment she told herself she was doing her best. It wasn’t as if they could gallop through the root-studded trails. Muddy, for his part, didn’t seem bothered by the uneven ground. He missed the roots efficiently and moved willingly at whatever pace she allowed. In fact, she thought, he’d been like this the entire ride. He didn’t lag; he didn’t jig or forge ahead. He waited for instructions and carried them out.

  Good boy.

  She patted his neck absently. It wasn’t his fault they were making slow time. But she couldn’t go any faster.

  Why?

  She hated voices in her head, especially when they weren’t hers. This one belonged to Alec. He’d been in her head pretty much constantly since she’d met the man, and the thing that made his voice so aggravating was not that he was wrong or even right. It was that she’d grown to appreciate it. She’d started to trust it when she didn’t even trust herself. The fact that she wanted to listen to this man, who had plenty of his own issues, irritated her inner self—the one who wanted help from nobody.

  Why?

  That voice was hers. Why should she trust him?

  Because it was his doing that she wasn’t sitting in her tiny apartment insisting she couldn’t go out into the world. Because he’d arranged this long ride, this arduous task for her weak body, just so she could ride in the rodeo—something that was an obstacle in his own life.

  Because he’d said he loved her.

  Loved her! Heaven help her, she loved him right back. And if she loved him she must trust him, and if she trusted him she had to believe him.

  Hadn’t Alec said she could do anything she put her mind to doing?

  She and Muddy broke out of the woods, and the long, sloping eastern meadowlands stretched before her. The choice had to be made here: go for the highway or head for home?

  If she got back to the ranch, she wouldn’t have to wander her way home from the highway. She could bed down the horse, connect with Dr. Ackerman and, more importantly, she could return to Alec and Rowan with the rescue crew and help with Alec’s horse while he dealt with the dog.

  Right. You’re going to deal with the horse. You can’t even ride this one.

  Suddenly, she didn’t much like her own voice anymore.

  “Let’s go home, Muddy,” she said. “But we have to go a little faster than we’ve been doing. I can do it if you’ll keep your lope nice and easy on me. Okay?”

  It took almost more mental energy than she had left to urge Muddy from a jog into a gentle lope. She had managed the gait in the confines of the round pen, but she didn’t know Muddy or what he’d do given the chance to run on open ground. She should trust her riding skills, but that ship had sailed months before. All she could do was hope Muddy would forgive her awkwardness and not take off.

  He lifted into a gentlemanly lope, his ears flicking back as he listened for further instruction. For a long minute she struggled with coordination. Her seat slipped and her thighs burned until she ended up pinching improperly with her knees to stay tight in the saddle. Her body fought against everything she knew was correct. Where the heck was her muscle memory? Riding was counterintuitive to the neophyte: sit up to stay in closer contact with the saddle, don’t squeeze your legs to stay on, and don’t pull back to slow down, use your seat and back. Nothing felt right—until it did.

  Muddy’s long, swooping lope was much swingier and level than Penny’s had been. It rode like a BMW rather than a sporty little Audi. Comfortable and easy—yet filled with unleashed power. Joely sat up straighter and forced her weak leg back from where it had slipped out in front of the cinch. Immediately Muddy dropped his ear back as if to say “okay,” gave a quick snort, and dropped into a trot.

  Joely let out a low whistle of appreciation for his training, but it was cut short when Muddy’s next step took him into a slight depression. He hitched to compensate, Joely’s left leg flopped away from the saddle leather and threw her off balance. In a split second she was sliding off the left side of the saddle smoothly and inevitably. She landed hard on her left hip and butt cheek with a splat. Instantly the storm’s aftermath had her soaked but she was grateful the waterlogged prairie grasses had saved her from serious injury.

  It still hurt.

  And it sent her into helpless panic. Her nightmare had come true.

  Every ounce of strength drained away, and hopelessness enveloped her the way it had the day the mustang foal had been born, and Joely lay on her back with sharp cold rain pricking at her skin and hot fat tears pouring down her temples. She didn’t know where Muddy had gone and she didn’t open her eyes to find out if he’d run off. She didn’t care. She couldn’t even go for damn help anymore because she was the one who constantly needed it herself.

  Failure.

  It blew in rapid fire bursts through her life and had ever since she’d won the Miss Wyoming pageant and allowed two men who saw her as pretty and delicate tell her what to do with her pageant winnings. She’d given it all away, along with her self-esteem.

  The losses played through her mind for the millionth time. Her father, her husband and their marriage, the baby whose near weightlessness still weighed her arms down, and the horse. Now the dog—most likely. It was the same overwrought sadness—the same grief that seemed destined to control her emotions no matter how many steps she took to climb back out of her hole. At least this time Alec wasn’t here to witness the weakness. She could remember his arms around her during that last breakdown and feel the mortification as he’d rocked her and said nothing—the one time she’d needed the man who’d given her unsolicited advice on everything to really fix something.

  Nothing.

  But he hadn’t needed to; he’d been there. Been there with her and for her but not trying to fix things he couldn’t and shouldn’t fix. That was Alec Morrissey’s great strength—he jumped in when he knew what he was talking about. He supported her silently when the battle had to be hers. Whether she liked it or not.

  And he was still back there. Waiting for her. Trusting that she would do what she had the expertise to do. Her head swam. She wanted his arms around her again. Now. Now she understood how his silence could fix everyth
ing.

  But it was her turn to buck up. She was the only one who could fix this, and the only thing holding her back was the little voice she’d allowed to make a home in her head that kept saying she couldn’t.

  A primitive cry full of frustration and pure anger burst from her lungs. She slammed her fist into the wet ground and pushed up onto her elbows. Something warm and dank-smelling nudged her cheek, startling her until she turned to the wet horse and started to laugh. Muddy snuffled curiously around her ear and snorted, adding horse sneeze to the rain still falling. She laughed harder and grasped the sides of the halter she’d put on under his bridle so she never had to tie him by the reins.

  “Pull me up, big guy,” she said.

  He didn’t really obey, of course, but he snorted and backed away. Amazed, she used his weight as leverage and got to her feet. The instant she was fully upright, she threw her arms around Muddy’s neck, burying her face in his wet coat, and letting his animal heat infuse her with strength and hope. He allowed the tight hold, bobbing his head and shaking it once to clear the rain from his face.

  He wasn’t Penny. But then, Alec wasn’t Tim, and nothing else about her life was the same. Fine. She’d fallen off the horse. Figuratively and literally. They said you weren’t a real rider until you came off at least once. Well then, she must be a damn good rider.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Now all you have to do is let me lean on you until we find a hillock I can use as a mounting block. That or you’ll have to drag me all the way back to the barn.”

  They found a perfect rise where she mounted from the wrong side. Muddy stood statue still, making her question her belief that he didn’t really understand.

  They galloped two long stretches on the way home. Once she decided she wasn’t afraid to fall off again, the rest of her fear disappeared. She had the strength in her hips, after walking with crutches so much, to curve her thighs and calves around Muddy’s broad sides, and she’d developed enough flexibility in her back to rock down into the saddle. Her left ankle and foot were less flexible, but she worked out how to compensate for not having them as shock absorbers—the same way Alec couldn’t feel his prosthetic foot yet managed fine.

  At last, within two miles of Rosecroft, Joely finally got service enough to call Harper. By the time she and Muddy made it to the barn, pain circulated through her body as if her blood were made of it and the breeze after the rain had chilled to her marrow. But the truck and trailer were ready to go, and a plan was in place. Her mother took Muddy, handed Joely a dry sweatshirt and pair of jeans, and despite what had to be her hideous, bedraggled sight, not a single person argued when Joely said she was going back with Cole and Gabe to pick up Alec and the dog.

  That alone made the wild ride triumphant.

  THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY Alec rose from beside the giant dog bed and smiled at his oaf of a pet. She was the perfect convalescent. A lazy girl perfectly happy to be waited on hand and paw. Sadly, he was only too willing to give her anything she wanted. She’d be incorrigible if he didn’t stop bringing her treats every five minutes.

  He was just so grateful. One week ago, twelve stitches and a bandage on a badly bruised knee had been the result of her accident. She’d be restricted for another week, but she’d be fine. He looked out the window, knowing their savior would be there any second for lunch. She’d started her new job at the beginning of the week, and she was happier than he’d ever known her.

  Unless it was when they were together in that physical and nearly spiritual bond they were perfecting at night . . . but he needed to stop thinking about that so much.

  Or not.

  He didn’t hear her arrival in the car she was borrowing from Mia—to see if she was ready for her own. Since her ride to the rescue the past weekend, she finally seemed to believe she could do whatever she put her mind to. She’d taken to driving by herself like she’d never been fearful of the task, and each time she tried something new at work, her confidence took bigger leaps.

  “Time for lunch!” she called, surprising both Alec and his dog, who jumped to her feet as Joely entered, wearing a backpack Alec suspected was loaded with goodies.

  He grabbed Rowan’s collar and forced her to sit. She wiggled like a two-year-old confined to a stroller.

  “Hello, baby,” Joely cooed at the dog. “How’s my girl?”

  She stroked and kissed the dog until Alec cleared his throat. She looked up laughing. “Oh hi, you’re here, too.”

  He grabbed her into a kiss, and she dropped her crutches on the couch so she could wrap her arms around his neck.

  “I like this,” he said when they parted. “So domestic.”

  “And you who says he doesn’t do commitment.”

  “I don’t rescue people and dogs either. That’s your department.”

  “And don’t you forget it. All right, since it’s Saturday and I’m sorry I said I’d work, I brought some stuff to make giant chef salads tonight. Ice cream for dessert. You know, to make up for healthy.”

  “You are really handy to have around.”

  “Don’t forget that either.”

  She put away her groceries and called on him to carry sandwiches she’d brought for lunch to the living room, but she tugged on his hand before he could pass them out. “Come and sit for a sec. In the interest of a hundred percent honesty in this relationship, I have something I have to tell you. You may not be happy with me.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  She grinned with the barest hint of uncertainly behind the light in her eyes. “Then I’ll just spit it out. I contacted your aunt and uncle, and they called me back this morning.”

  He went dizzy, blown away with the complete unexpectedness of her announcement. “You did what?”

  She planted a solid kiss on his lips. “I know you told me about them in the name of getting to understand each other, but I couldn’t make myself believe they were really angry. Or that you were really angry with them.”

  “I’m not angry. But I know they don’t want to be reminded of the son I lost for them. I’ve never blamed them, Joely; they blamed me.”

  “But you miss them. You say Rowan is your only family, but I can see in your eyes that’s not true.”

  She held his gaze unapologetically, which, for a woman who only days ago might have apologized for breathing wrong, would have been miraculous had this been any other subject. Alec took long minutes fighting his frustration. He’d fallen for this woman, to the point of being ready to take a chance on long term, but this was an area she had no business mucking with. When he’d calmed enough to keep his reply civil, he took her hands.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why? I haven’t talked to them in a year. Don’t think for a second you can compare my family to yours. Hell, we were dysfunctional before I went to Iraq. Before Buzz and I ran off to join the rodeo. My aunt and uncle don’t have anything to say to me now.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll find out that’s not true.”

  “You didn’t have the right.” His voice tightened defensively.

  “Look.” She set her jaw in the way he found cute when she was mad at him. “I expected you to be annoyed, but I don’t expect you to be stupid about this. Maybe your aunt and uncle won’t contact you at all. If not you’re no worse off. If they do? Well, you’re a big boy. You can handle a phone call.”

  As if answering a summons, Alec’s cell phone rang from the coffee table where he’d left it. He stared at it until Joely picked it up.

  “Richard Waverly,” she read off the screen. “Your uncle. Take it.”

  His gut lurched, and he shook his head. “This is not a conversation I can have without warning.”

  “For crying out loud. Don’t be an ass.”

  “Don’t you dare answer it for me.”

  The phone quit. Joely set it down and glared at him. “What the crap, Alec?”

  “You don’t understand. This isn�
�t something you can fix because you suddenly have a sunny outlook on life. Save that for us.”

  “Us? Really? Tell me, what is ‘us’?”

  “It’s beginning to be the most important thing in my life. You’ve become a part of me—that’s what’s important. Leave the past in the past.”

  “I feel like I’m part of you, too, Alec. I don’t take what we started last weekend lightly or for granted. And I don’t make love to you to prove anything. I do it because I have this corny belief we have two of those clichéd souls that were meant to find each other. Because I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “So don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid. You’ve made me the opposite of afraid, Joely.”

  “It might not be me you’re afraid of, but you are. You’re afraid of your aunt and uncle. Of the rodeo. You’re afraid of your cousin’s ghost, Alec.”

  Something hot and fierce flashed within him. He wanted to call it anger, but he couldn’t honestly give it that name. It was resentment. It was defensiveness. It was standing there being accused of abusing Buzz’s memory—a memory he’d felt so self-righteous about honoring. It was the start of fear. Not of the things she’d listed, but that she might have a point.

  No.

  She was wrong. She didn’t understand how things were between him and his aunt and uncle. She couldn’t understand how much Buzz had loved the rodeo in a way completely different than Alec had. To Alec riding broncs had been a goal, a challenge, almost a cheater’s way of making a living because it had been so much fun, but to Buzz it had been a love affair—a reason to breathe and to fight for. If Buzz couldn’t have his love, neither would he. So Alec had made his decision.

  “Don’t talk to me about my cousin’s ghost. You don’t get to bring him into this—you have no idea what ghosts I face.”

  “Then tell me. Tell me what you see in your dreams at night and why you won’t even step foot on the hallowed ground your cousin loved. Tell me why you don’t trust me enough to help you after all you’ve done for me.”