by Linda Conrad
He saw to it that she took a few bites from the chicken salad sandwich and stayed a minute more to be sure everything was within her reach. When he'd satisfied himself that she was eating and content for the moment, he excused himself, picked up the water bucket and headed to the creek.
Outside in the hazy spring sunshine, he breathed the clear sage-smelling air deep into his lungs, trying to force his head to clear. He needed to find a better way than this to maintain his distance.
She'd given herself over to him for the next few months, letting him take all their safety precautions into his own hands. But he didn't think that would necessarily include actually putting his hands on her body in all the ways he'd been wanting.
Gray made the short pilgrimage to the rocky bank of the little creek. The shade of the tall oaks and the one pecan tree made the journey quite cool and pleasant. Bending to fill the bucket, he decided to bring Abby out here to enjoy the gifts of the Great Spirit on such a magnificent day.
Before he could straighten again, a warm and devious wind struck the back of his neck, lifting the short hairs there and sending a chill down his spine. Someone or something was nearby, and whatever it was didn't belong here with the creatures of the earth.
He set the bucket to the ground gently and crouched low while he stole behind some brush. Sitting perfectly still, Gray searched his surroundings for any sign of what was wrong. Nothing moved except the dappled shadows of sunlight playing tag with the leaves and the wind.
The breeze ruffled his shirt and blew a few fallen leaves around in the dirt. Suddenly he caught a whiff of something foul and unnatural. Man. There was someone concealed, probably watching the lodge, and perhaps waiting for a chance to make a move.
Gray circled around the trees, training his eyes and ears on any movement. As he moved to the far side of the lodge, the sun came from behind a puffy cloud and glinted off something metallic in a stand of willows nearby.
Keeping low to the ground, Gray made short work of the distance to his quarry. It didn't take much of an effort to find where someone had been hidden, watching the lodge. But that someone was gone.
The spot was some distance away from the lodge, and he figured that what he'd seen shining in the sun's light might've been binoculars. Whoever was there had left in a great hurry.
Gray found horseshoe prints in the soft ground under the willows at the far edge of the stand. None of his mustangs wore shoes, of course, so this had to be a white man's horse.
He raised his head and sniffed the air, hoping to judge which direction they'd headed. Ugh. This was a white man, all right. And one with less than stellar personal hygiene, if the whiff he'd just gotten could be believed.
He followed the horse's prints for a minute, then circled around the lodge and satisfied himself that the intruder had backed off. He wanted to follow the tracks. After all, he couldn't just sit around and wait for someone to attack. But he needed to double-check on Abby first.
Gray picked up the bucket and reentered the lodge. As he stepped inside, he realized that Abby was slumped over the table, still sitting in the chair with her head lying on her folded arms. He didn't have to look twice to know that she'd fallen asleep. She must be worn-out by their ride from the Gentry Ranch.
He threw several furs and hides onto the ground in a cool corner. Then he quietly lifted her from her chair and hoped he could move her to a better position without waking her up.
She stirred and mumbled in his arms, and Gray felt the stirrings of lust as he held her against his chest. Just touching her set off sweet yearnings and riotous wanting.
"Shush, sweetheart. You need your sleep." He laid her down, tucked her within the blankets of fur and stepped back to make sure she was still asleep.
Abby nuzzled against the hides and then fell quiet. The urge to stir her to full awakening by using only his mouth and tongue assaulted his body. His growing need begged him to lie down beside her. But he tossed the needs aside and stepped back out into the midday sunshine.
He had to do something. Abby seemed okay for the moment, but in the long run she was vulnerable. It wasn't in his nature to hide, he was the hunter not the hunted. He went over to speak to Thunder Cloud, who'd been grazing down a slight embankment. "Come and stand guard over her for me, my friend," he pleaded with the mustang. "I will not be so far away that I can't hear if you call."
Thunder Cloud did as he'd asked, moving to stand before the entrance to the lodge. Gray was not worried about her safety from intruders, he would check under every leaf and bush within a hundred yards before he struck out to follow the stalker's tracks. He was much more concerned about keeping her safe from this building lust of his own.
He put on his knee-high moccasin boots, the ones handed down from his grandfather's grandfather, and prepared himself to track the horseman. He hoped he could get a break and find the man stopped somewhere for a rest or a drink.
Gray wanted to unmask the bad guy and end the stalker's quest for Abby. It was just his own nature to defend by going after the trouble. Then he and Abby could go about their business and put an end to this fake engagement.
But he wasn't so sure what he could do to put an end to his own quest for her. Or … where they might end up if he didn't.
* * *
Eight
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Abby fought, trying to grapple with the crazy images swirling around her. She must've fallen asleep, and this was a dream turned to nightmare. Funny though, even knowing it was a dream, she couldn't manage to wake herself up or shake off the hazy shrouds of billowing smoke.
Gray was here somewhere. She'd seen him for a fleeting second, but now he was gone from view. Searching for him, she began to feel desperate. He was in trouble, she knew it but couldn't do anything for him.
We wish to speak with you, chosen one.
She'd heard the strange, deep voice but couldn't pin down where it was coming from. Panic and plain cold fear grabbed at her throat. But she stiffened and set her jaw.
"Where's Gray? Is he hurt?" she demanded.
The son of our sons needs you, daughter.
The odd voice sounded as if an old Indian brave was speaking to her, but Abby couldn't imagine why he would be calling her daughter. Still … Gray needed her and that was the most important thing. What on earth was happening to her? She shivered and tried to stay calm.
Frustrated and frightened, she cried out, "Where is Gray? I want to help him. Let me go to him."
More sounds, the music of high-pitched flutes and wind chimes magically spilled through the air. A new voice, one that sounded eerily like her grandmother's, spoke to her in hushed tones.
Be still, daughter. He will return to your side in good time. We, the people, have come to warn you and to give you our strength and guidance. A stalker worries you.
"I'm not worried," Abby tentatively interrupted the voice. "Everyone else is worried about me, but I can take care of myself." She might've been scared, but she held her chin high.
The threat is not yours, chosen one. Our son is not aware that a snake is coiled, ready to strike his back.
"Again? If you mean Gray, he's already been bitten by a rattler."
This snake sends all the others. It does not rattle to warn. It strikes by sleuth. Strikes not for protection but for greed.
"You mean that somebody … wants to kill Gray. I'm not the target?" The icy fear moved over her like a shroud.
Our daughter is only in danger by reason of proximity. Do not be fooled.
"Oh my gosh. I have to warn him. Find him."
He will be with you soon. There is one more thing, chosen one.
She needed to find Gray, to tell him what she'd dreamed. Surely this was dream. But she would insist they change the way they'd been going about this business of hiding. Before something terrible happened to him.
She prayed it was not too late.
Listen to your heart, daughter. You will be the mother to our daughters, the renewal of our grand
and glorious sons in the ancient grounds. Find your spirit. It will be joined to ours through time. The quest and the vision belong to your heart.
A low drumbeat started, began seeping into her body. It felt like the fog breathed, haunting her, covering her soul with the mist.
Abby panicked—struggled to swim out of its clutches. Gray … she had to find Gray.
Tired, but satisfied that Abby's stalker was long gone, Gray returned to the lodge within twenty minutes and found Thunder Cloud still guarding the entrance. The mustang stood in the long shadows of midafternoon sun, undisturbed and calmly nibbling on some grasses.
"Thank you, old friend. I will take over now," Gray crooned to the mustang.
He'd tracked the intruder's prints as far as he dared on foot and had been surprised to find that, instead of heading toward Gentry Ranch, the horseman had ridden in a straight line toward the Skaggs main house. Gray would have to check later with his stepfather about any strangers who might've been in the area.
Gray barely had a chance to pull off the moccasins when he heard Abby cry out his name. He was at her side before he took his next breath.
She still lay as he left her, cuddled up in the pile of furs on the floor. But she appeared to be in the throes of a bad dream, flailing her arms and legs and mumbling in her sleep. He knelt beside her, dragging her into his embrace.
"Abby, I'm right here," he soothed her. "Everything is all right. You're in no danger."
She opened her eyes and threw her arms around his neck. "Gray. Thank God. It was so scary … so weird." Breathing into the crook of his neck, she began placing tiny kisses on the sensitive skin there. "I thought I might not be in time to find you."
"In time for what?"
She pulled back to look at him but kept a firm grip around his neck. "To warn you. I had a frightening dream. There were old voices. The voices said it's you that's in danger, not me. They said … they said…"
"You had a dream?" he interrupted. "What did you see?"
"It was more like I heard things, not saw them. There were flutes and wind chimes, and I could smell that smoke and heard those drums again. Everything was foggy and filmy."
She was breathing hard, and he could feel her heart hammering in her chest. "Take a breath, Abby. It sounds like you had a vision. You remember when I had a vision. It's nothing to be afraid of. You're okay. Calm down."
"I don't want to calm down," she insisted. "The voices said it's you that someone wants to kill, Gray, not me. You're the one who needs protection."
Abby tightened her grip on his neck and hugged him closer. "An old woman's voice said there was a snake, waiting to strike you again. She meant a person, I know she did. She said someone was greedy, wanting something from you enough to kill you for it."
Gray could hear the pure panic in her voice, knew from her description that she must've really had a vision. "But I don't have anything except the mustangs. No one would have a reason to kill me for them, they're not worth enough money."
"I don't know the reason. The old woman didn't tell me that," she complained. "But I believe what she said. You're the one in danger. You've got to believe me."
He turned his chin and lightly kissed her ear. "I believe you, sweetheart. But nothing can happen right this minute. We're safe here for the time being. Thunder Cloud will let us know if we have anything to worry about it."
Abby sighed against him and he felt her tension ease.
"That's better," he murmured. "Now tell me what else the elder in your vision said."
Her body tensed against him again. "Nothing. I've told you everything I can remember."
Gray clearly heard the lie in her tone, but decided not to push her right now. Perhaps the ancient one in Abby's vision had foretold his death. If that was the case, Gray really didn't want to know.
Instead, he concentrated on Abby. But before he could caution her again to relax, he discovered that his hand was doing its own soothing by diving through the silken tangles of her hair. His fingers rubbed her scalp, gliding through the soft mass of chestnut curls. The satiny sensation was more sensuous than calming.
The air in the lodge changed dramatically. He didn't know when or how or why, but a sudden passion had gripped him in its tender talons.
He kissed her ear again, but this time let his lips linger to ring the lobe with wetness. Abby uttered a small gasp, and her breathing became shallow, her heart quickened to keep pace with his. He felt her nipples harden against his chest.
"Abby, I want you," he rasped in her ear.
She stayed close, ran her fingertips across his neck, then plowed them through his hair. He heard her sigh.
"I've wanted to touch you for so long," she murmured. "Since the first time I ever laid eyes on you."
The beating of his aroused heart began to drown out all the good reasons why he should not do this. He moaned as his hand moved, almost of its own accord, over the delicate jawline and across her smooth chin.
Gray swallowed hard, feeling every nerve jump to attention. He drew back and watched her slowly open her eyes. The pull of her erotic gaze urged him onward.
A niggling thought in the back of his mind was that Abby would be the last woman he would ever have. Perhaps that thought sprang from a vision of his own impending death. Or perhaps he just wanted her so badly that good sense had deserted him.
He trailed his fingertips lightly over her lips, lost himself in the incredible softness he found there. As if she too were lost, Abby closed her eyes and made a small noise in her throat. The sound sent something shattering and yet awakening through his thickened brain.
Even with her eyes closed, he could see her vulnerability, her desire. She'd tried to hide her nervousness from him, but hadn't realized that by now he knew her too well for that. He was not the hunter with her, but his soul recognized a frightened prey.
Was she afraid of his need? Or of her own?
He prayed silently for guidance, but the red yearning inside him grew unabated. "This should not be," he whispered softly, then swayed toward her. "We will not be together forever. It's not in my vision."
A few whispered words finished him off. "But, Gray, the vision…" she began, then her voice dissolved into a siren's call to passion. "I want you like you said you wanted me."
He bent to kiss her lightly, just a brush across the ripe fullness that drew him. Instantly a light touch seemed beyond him. He grabbed her up and seared her with a deep kiss, both urgent and promising.
Abby responded by making small noises and running her hands over his shoulders and down his arms and chest. He plundered her mouth, kissing and begging for entrance.
She opened, and he thrust his tongue inside to suck and tangle with hers. He marveled at how they seemed to fit together. Lips matched lips. Kisses matched kisses.
He plunged deeply into the desire that was Abby. As he breathed her scent into his body, he smelled deep rich earth and savage, primitive want.
With his heart pounding in his chest, his good sense was lost as his body thickened beyond the bearable. He fought it and pulled back slightly to try one last time.
"We cannot do this, Abby. I have no protection. Think about that. This one time will be all we'll have."
"Gray … please," she said, then smiled, pulling him down to her as she did.
Dizzy, Gray gave up and lost himself in her kisses. If this were to be their one and only time, he would make the most of it. There would be no thoughts of tomorrow or the nemene now. There would be only Abby.
While nibbling on her lips, he ran his hands roughly up and down her spine. He felt her shirt bunch under his fingers and tugged it free of her waistband. Before he knew it, his hands were on the tender skin of her back.
Gulping down the pounding urgent need to rush, Gray vowed to take his time. He wanted to experience every bit of this special woman. After all, she'd had her own vision, that made her more magical than ever.
But even before that, he'd thought of her as speci
al. Her strength aroused him. Her gentleness spun him into a much greater web of lust than he'd ever thought possible.
"I must see all of you," he told her in a ragged voice.
She leaned back and smiled again, as if in encouragement. He held her gaze and realized that she wanted to look at him, too. A fierce drumbeat started in his blood, but he forced himself to maintain his patience.
Abby reached for his shirt buttons at the same moment that he began to unbutton hers. A man could endure only so much.
He dragged his shirt from his jeans and ripped it over his head with one quick movement. To hell with buttons.
Her eyes widened. He wasn't sure whether his swift movement had scared her … or if she was admiring his chest.
Either way, he knew he had to slow down when it came to disrobing her.
He reached for the buttons on her shirt once more. When his knuckles grazed the flushed skin at the base of her neck, he felt her tremble with anticipation. He paused and deliberately took a moment's breather.
She placed her hands on his thighs, watching him closely in the dappled afternoon light as it came through the lodge's roof. He remained still while her dark gaze perused him from the tip of his head to his waist. She'd taken her sweet time to study every inch, and when her eyes landed on the scars of his abdomen, he found that his hands were shaking.
Her serious expression suddenly changed into another smile. She shifted and took matters into her own hands. Ripping at her own shirt buttons, she had her arms freed and the cloth pitched away faster than Gray could blink.
The plain white bra she wore didn't do much to hide her swollen nipples from his view. He reached to skim his fingers around the tender skin at the outline of the bra and found his hands steadier.
She shyly lifted her eyes, but gazed directly at him, as if encouraging him to continue. He promised himself once again to take it slowly, make their one and only time last longer than a few minutes.