HIS TENDER TOUCH

by Sharon Mignerey

  "Kiss me, Gray," she whispered, her gaze locked with his.

  He brushed his lips over hers in a chaste kiss.

  "More," she whispered when he lifted his head.

  "No," he answered. "Not now. Not tonight."

  "Please."

  He smiled, and it looked so sad it tore at her heart.

  "I'm no saint," he said, brushing her hair off her cheek. "And you're so, so tempting. And I won't be able to stop with a kiss, Audrey."

  She swallowed, her body tingling as she recognized the implications of what he was saying.

  "Even if you want that, I don't have any way to protect you. And…"

  The silence stretched between them until she finally prompted, "And?"

  "And if we make love tonight…" He paused, as if searching for the right thing to say to her. "I'm never going to know whether it was because you really wanted me or if it was just reaction to the danger we've been in today. It's the most powerful turn-on there is, Audrey. A way of proving to yourself that you're still alive."

  Turned on, oh yes, she was. But it wasn't because of the danger they had shared today. "You could be right," she whispered, gazing into his eyes, remembering his confession that he was afraid of himself. "But I think you're just as scared as I am."

  He glanced away and a moment later picked his jacket off the floor and laid it over her. "Go to sleep. I've got a couple of things to do."

  "And then?"

  "And then we'll sleep together." A hint of laughter filled his voice. "It's the only way we're going to stay warm."

  Audrey watched him move around the camp. He hadn't denied being afraid, she thought. Her gaze returned to the small campfire, then drifted to the bright moon overhead, sleepiness once again overtaking her.

  She heard a splash of water, and she looked from the moon to the pool. As if in a dream, she watched the steam above the pool undulate in streamers lit by the moonlight. Gray was nowhere in sight. Vague alarm dissipated the mirage. She sat up and called his name.

  "I'm right here," he called.

  The mist cleared slightly, and she made out the darker shape of his head in the middle of the pool, then noticed the pile of his clothes next to the edge. Fascinated, she watched. The faint aroma of soap drifted toward her. He remained motionless for what seemed a long time. She lay back down and divided her attention between the glowing coals of the fire and him. The streamers of steam alternately hid and revealed him. When he came out of the pool, the shifting mist closed around him like a shroud, then fell away, tantalizing her. His body gleamed in the moonlight.

  He looked like a god. Muscles rippled as he sluiced water off his chest and legs. Broad shoulders and a deep chest tapered to narrow masculine hips.

  Individual features were shadowed, which was a shame, she thought, because she had never seen a body that looked more beautiful to her. He pulled on a pair of briefs the same dark shade as his T-shirt, which he used to dry his hair before putting it back on. Jeans and the flannel shirt followed. Never once had she imagined watching a man dress could be sexy. But it was.

  Sighing, she tore her gaze away from him and focused on the fire. Seconds later he appeared. He banked the fire and stowed their gear in the backpack.

  She felt utterly exhausted, but at the moment sleep was the last thing on her mind. Even so, she let her eyes drift close. Sometime later, she felt Gray lie down beside her.

  He gathered her spoon-style against him, his arm wrapped around her waist, and covered them both with his jacket.

  Images of them locked together, skin to skin, poured through her. She longed to turn in his arms, press herself close and test the extent of his resolve not to make love to her tonight. Except that she wasn't sure what she would do if he caved in, and she was even less sure what she would do if he didn't. So she lay motionless, enjoying his arms wrapped around her, the heat of his body warming her and the masculine scent that was his alone.

  "I could use a bath, too," she finally murmured. "I probably smell like something the cat dragged in."

  "You smell fine," he assured here. "I'm afraid you'll get chilled. You've been cold all day."

  "Yeah," she agreed. "I thought of that, too."

  He adjusted his position slightly, making them both more comfortable. "Warm enough?"

  "Mmm," she whispered. To her surprise, she yawned. "I like this," she murmured.

  "Me, too," he said. "Go to sleep, Audrey."

  Sometime between staring at the full moon and the fire, she did.

  * * *

  The wind softly moaned through the pines, and Audrey stirred. Opening her eyes, her gaze focused first on the fire. The flames were gone, but coals burned brightly. The light from the moon didn't seem as radiant, and she lifted her eyes to it.

  It gleamed brightly at one edge only, and she frowned. It had been a full moon. Hadn't it?

  Another whisper of wind moaned in the trees, and Audrey snuggled more deeply beneath the covers. Gray's arm was still curled around her waist, and against her back his body felt warm as a furnace.

  Her attention returned to the moon. The band of light seemed smaller. A huge orange-hued ball hid the moon's brilliance. The stars in the sky twinkled more brightly, a planet—Venus or Jupiter, she couldn't remember which—gleamed like a beacon. The moon became even more mysterious.

  She should understand, she knew she should, but some important piece eluded her.

  The shelf where their camp was lost all definition, and Audrey felt as though she was at the edge of an abyss. The only real things in her existence were Gray at her back and the glowing embers of the fire at her front.

  "Gray?" she whispered.

  "What?" he asked, sounding instantly awake.

  "Look at the moon."

  Moment by moment, the curve of light disappeared as a shadow over the face of the moon increased.

  "I've never seen a full lunar eclipse before," he said.

  Relief flowed through Audrey at his matter-of-fact statement. At one level, she had known what it was, but at another it seemed so surreal, so mysterious.

  He grasped the top of his jacket, tucking it around Audrey. Her breathing slowed, and he realized she had fallen asleep. Then, he, too, drifted off.

  Sometime later, he awoke. Lying quietly, he listened to the sounds of water from the pool, the moan of the wind through the pines, the occasional snap from the fire. But something didn't feel right. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he scanned the shelf.

  The eclipse was complete, the moon looking like an amber ball hung high in the sky. A coyote broke the silence, its eerie song echoing through the canyon. Others joined in the chorus in a song old as time.

  "I've never heard the coyotes sing before," Audrey whispered. "It's beautiful."

  "Yeah." Something besides the eclipse and the coyotes still didn't feel right. Gray scanned the dark shelf, visually searching for anything out of place.

  Steam covered the pool like a blanket, spilling over the edges. Movement beyond the campfire caught his attention, and he reached for the revolver that he had set on the ground next to their makeshift bed. With his other hand, he pressed a finger against Audrey's lips, hoping she would understand. Beneath his hand, he felt her nod.

  The breeze picked up, stirring through the pines in a ghostly whisper of sound. Out of the mist next to the pool, a woman wearing buckskins emerged.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  She wasn't real. Gray knew she wasn't. And yet…

  Almost transparent, she appeared as though projected onto the black screen of night. As she came closer to the camp, her image became more opaque, more full bodied … more real. Gray's scalp prickled, and his arm around Audrey tightened.

  The Indian woman glanced over her shoulder toward the narrow trail that led to the canyon floor below, her body taut, her head cocked to the side as though listening for an intruder. Her wariness increased Gray's apprehension, and he listened intently, as well
. She sighed, then she resumed walking toward the camp, carrying a clay pot filled with water.

  "Who are you?" he asked, admitting to himself that he didn't expect an answer.

  She gave no indication she had heard him.

  Reaching the campfire, she gracefully knelt next to the fire, added more wood to it and settled the pot in the middle of the flames. Opening a pouch tied to her waist, she sprinkled dried leaves of some kind into the water, going about her business as though she was alone. Her posture, however, remained wary.

  Gray strained to hear anything that would indicate someone approached from the canyon below them. Ordinary sounds—the crackle of the fire, the faint trickle of water over stone, the whisper of pine needles touching one another—came to him.

  As the woman had, he concluded they were alone. Safe … at least for the moment.

  She glanced up, her dark eyes fixed directly on him. Gray returned the stare, his throat becoming more dry. Maybe she did see them.

  She looked enough like Audrey to be her sister. The same fine, nearly translucent skin. Expressive dark eyes. Her hair was black to Audrey's rich brown. He wondered where the horsemen were. Had they chased her here? Or would that moment somehow come after this one?

  "Who are you?" he repeated.

  She picked up one of the sticks of kindling that Audrey had laid near the fire, stirred the coals, then let it fall into the flames.

  "Miss?" He raised his voice slightly.

  She sighed, then pressed her hand into her side as though easing a cramp.

  "Where did you come from?" She might be deaf, but she would have to be blind not to see them. How was it possible they saw her, but she didn't see them?

  Her expression became pensive, and she spoke, the words in a language he didn't recognize. He couldn't decide if she had really heard him or was simply talking to herself.

  Beneath his hand, he felt Audrey stir, and she tugged his hand away from her mouth. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

  Gray sat up and got out of their bed of pine boughs, tempted to pick up his revolver, resisting the urge, uncertain how this apparently unarmed woman could pose any threat. "Where did you come from?" he repeated. "Who are you?"

  Figment of his imagination … or … ghost, she looked real. He stepped toward her. "What are you doing here?"

  The Indian woman turned slightly away and began speaking softly again, the words rapid, and her arm lifted in a gesture that encompassed the camp and all of the sky above them. Gray came to a stop directly in front of her, and if she saw him, she gave no indication.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

  She rose, stumbling slightly, again pressing her hand to her side. Gray reached out to steady her.

  His hand encountered nothing but air.

  A chill crawled down his spine. The woman frowned, touching her shoulder where his hand should have brushed her. Then she turned away from him as though he were invisible.

  Just as she had the day he had seen her running from the horsemen.

  She peered into the clay pot, made a sound of vague satisfaction and walked toward the stone pool.

  At the edge of the pool, she undid the lacings of her gown, which slid off her body, the steam shrouding her. Moccasins and leggings followed. As she stepped into the pool, the veil of steam shifted, revealing her profile—a too slim body ripe with advanced pregnancy. As she settled into the pool, the steam sank toward the water, as well, shielding her from view. Her murmured sound of satisfaction rose above the mist.

  Gray returned to the bed and sat down next to Audrey.

  "I saw her," she whispered, shivering badly and wrapping her arms around herself. "Oh, God. I've got to be dreaming."

  "If you are," he returned hoarsely, "I'm having the same dream."

  "I saw your hand…" Another huge shiver made Audrey's voice break. "Last night, I saw her. I just didn't know … I thought it was a trick of the light."

  Gray wrapped an arm around Audrey and pulled her to his side. She burrowed closer. He had a sense of awful danger, but he couldn't pinpoint its source. His usual instincts were of no help. The woman herself was of no danger. But the horsemen he had seen chasing her, what of them? He wanted to scoop Audrey up and run with her to safety—wherever the hell that was.

  He stared at the shifting steam above the pond, seized by uncharacteristic indecision. There was no way at all they could prudently traverse the trail back to the canyon bottom. After the eclipse was over, the top of the trail would be lit well enough, but the lower part would be blacker than a witch's dream. But to stay here with a ghost…

  "We've got to get out of here." He stood up, pulling at Audrey's hand. She didn't move. Finally, he looked away from the pond to her.

  "Why?"

  "Why?" What kind of foolish question was that? He waved a hand in the direction of the pool. "She…"

  "I don't think she means us any harm."

  "How do you know that?" Again, he pulled at her hand, urging her to stand. She pulled back, urging him to sit back down.

  When he did, she said, "Look at her. She can't see us, can't hear us. I don't know why we can see her, but…" She looked up at the moon, the eclipse nearly complete. The moon looked huge, mysterious, awe inspiring. "It has something to do with the eclipse. Don't you think?"

  "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe."

  The woman began to sing, her voice deep, carrying the rhythmic cadence of a native chant. In all her life, Audrey had never heard anything so beautiful or so mournful. An answering sensation rose within her. She felt as though she had merged with the woman somehow. Keenly, powerfully, the woman's emotions surged through her. Loss. Fear. Heartache. Mourning for a man who had died. Audrey knew, as certainly as she knew Gray held her, this woman was mourning for her man.

  On the other side of the canyon came an echoing sorrowful cry in chorus. The hair on the back of Audrey's neck stood on end. Even though she had watched Gray's hand pass through the woman, she had seemed so … real. And now the coyotes heard her song, too. As the mist above the water shifted, she looked just as solid as Gray had when he was in the pool.

  "I'm not dreaming," Audrey said, talking more to herself than to Gray. "I've lost my mind. I don't believe in ghosts." Her voice caught on another shiver.

  "You're not losing your mind," Gray assured her.

  She wanted to accept that, but couldn't. Until now, her life had been measured by ordinary standards. Ghosts and omens had no part in her life. Ever since she had arrived at Puma's Lair, her world was tilted. This was simply the latest in a series of inexplicable, senseless events. She clung to Gray, feeling as though he was her only anchor in an unfamiliar world. Solid. Real. Trustworthy.

  Lifting her gaze to the sky, she stared at the moon. It looked huge, ethereal. The coyotes' chorus and the woman's mournful song fit perfectly.

  She risked a glance toward the pool. Steam hid the woman as her haunting voice soared into the night. When the last of the song faded away, she silently appeared once again, carrying the bundle of her clothes. As she approached the fire, her body gleamed, her belly round and full, making her look too fragile for the burden of her pregnancy.

  Dropping the clothes next to a buckskin bag, she removed a square of cloth that looked to Audrey like a piece of chamois. She dipped it into the pot over the fire, squeezed the excess liquid from it, and wiped her body, her actions those of a woman who believed she was alone.

  "What is your name?" Audrey asked, not at all sure what she would do if the woman really heard her or saw her.

  The woman didn't respond.

  "Are you from the pueblo?"

  Again, no response. Suddenly, the woman tensed, her face taking on an expression of intense concentration. The muscles across her abdomen rippled, then clinched in a spasm that lasted long, long seconds. When it ended, the woman patted her belly, murmuring words, conveying a feeling Audrey understood despite the barrier of language. Encouragement f
or the child coming into the world. Reassurance of love. Promise that all would be well.

  Another contraction seized the woman, and she sank to her knees. She was a woman alone, about to deliver a child, with no one to help her. She might feel as though all would be well. It was a feeling Audrey didn't share.

  "I can't just sit here and do nothing."

  "You can't help her," Gray said. "She can't see us."

  Audrey stood and stepped close to the campfire, holding her arms slightly out as though approaching a child she didn't want to frighten.

  "Maybe you can't see me or hear me or touch me," she said, her voice trembling. "But I'm here to help you … if I can."

  Abruptly, the woman's gaze shifted, and her eyes widened, first in astonishment, then in fright.

  "So you do see me," Audrey murmured softly, hoping her tone was reassuring. "I won't hurt you. See?" She held her hands up, trying to convey her intentions.

  A volley of words followed, incomprehensible but for the tone. It was filled with fear. The woman glanced wildly about, as if torn between picking up a weapon with which to defend herself and fleeing into the night.

  "I know," Audrey said. The consuming fear coursing through her belonged to them both, she thought. "This must be very scary for you. It is for me, too. The idea of you being alone and delivering this baby is terrifying. Not to mention you may be a ghost. That's pretty scary, too." She glanced toward the bed where Gray sat watching her. "I wonder why she can see me, but not you?"

  "I don't know," he answered.

  She knelt next to the woman. "My name is Audrey." She patted her chest. "Audrey."

  "Odd Ree?" The woman gave the consonants a hard inflection as though the sounds were unfamiliar.

  "That's right. Audrey. What's your name?" she asked, pointing at the woman.

  The question appeared to confuse her.

  "You were a cop, Gray," she said. "Did you ever deliver any babies?"

  He shook his head. "And, I'm no first-aid expert, either."