She recalled it, too, from the night before, electrified by the memory of making love in the wildflowers.
Then she frowned, remembering that when she’d first spotted Quinn there last night, he’d seemed disturbed. Could Consuela be right? Did he see things in his dreams that portended ill?
She stepped off the porch and approached the cliff’s edge, halting beneath a mesquite a few feet away. For a moment, she stood and listened to the constant wind, then stepped up on the big rock and sank onto it, staring sightlessly ahead.
How to reconcile this strange, almost magical world she’d entered? So much that was unexpected and outside her experience…yet she’d seen and felt nothing but goodness from either Quinn or his aunt. Each had been infinitely careful of her, each calm and undemanding. She knew in her innermost reaches that she and Grant could not be safer than with these people.
Psychic gifts aside, what did she make of this existence they lived, so different from any she’d known?
Had she lived so long in a world of me first that she’d forgotten such selflessness really existed? Dog eat dog was a rule so primary that she’d forgotten it could be questioned.
But look at Quinn’s aunt and what she’d done this day. Lorie didn’t pretend to understand all that had happened, but the effect Consuela had on the young family was remarkable. Lorie thought about all the people she knew who wouldn’t miss a week with their shrinks. She thought of all the money someone could have made, preying upon the fears of two simple people.
Instead Consuela had received what the young father could offer, with the graciousness of a queen. A chicken, small and scrawny, a few potatoes and some squash were all they had to give her.
And Lorie felt certain she’d accepted it as much for their sake as for her own.
Consuela was an old woman who could have been forgiven for retiring to her rocking chair long ago. But she had a purpose which sustained her; she made a difference in people’s lives.
When Lorie contrasted it to her own life, she felt sick. She, at best, gave people an escape for a while; at worst, she provided the bread for a sandwich designed to urge consumption. Consuela’s life might be simpler, might have little luxury—but whose life was richer?
She laid her cheek on her knees, gazing at the vista beyond her. Her thoughts turned to what Consuela had said about Quinn. She was afraid to consider the import of Consuela’s words, but she couldn’t get them out of her mind.
Quinn had seen Grant in dreams? Had seen her? How could that be?
A chill swept over her as she remembered asking Quinn how he knew she’d been in trouble on that horrible night. He’d called it—what? She furrowed her brow, trying to remember what he’d said.
Just a feeling, that was it. She’d been so terrified, so confused, she hadn’t questioned it. But that was what he’d said, wasn’t it?
The more she considered it, the more she realized that there was no rational explanation for Quinn appearing at her apartment that night, and her blood ran cold. Terror froze her heart. What would have happened if he hadn’t seen her in his dream? But how could he have? Things like that just didn’t happen.
But it had. There was no other explanation.
She wanted to ask Quinn about it, but if it was real…if Consuela was right and he thought it a curse, how could he not wish she would go away? Her mind ran in circles until she couldn’t think anymore.
Exhausted from too much thinking and too few answers, she laid down in the shade and let Quinn’s table rock lull her to sleep.
Quinn vaulted from Wind Dancer’s back, unease skittering up his spine.
He and Grant had been exploring the heights, having a great time. Being with the boy was a long, cool drink of water after a hard day. With his unfailing sunny nature, his easy show of affection, Grant gave him back pieces of his own lost innocence.
But right there, in the midst of showing Grant an arrowhead, the dread he’d felt before, back in New York, prickled up his spine.
Had he found them?
Quinn had dropped Grant off at Tía’s before charging back. Grant had been ecstatic to be invited to supper.
At the cabin, he tied the reins to the porch and mounted the steps in search of Lorie. To see her, to touch her, reassure himself she was all right.
Movement to his left caught his eye.
It was only a hawk snaring prey.
Then he spotted a shape lying on the table rock.
And took off at a run.
It was Lorie, curled up on her side, still as death.
As he skidded to a stop before her, her eyes popped open.
He found a breath.
Her eyes quickly warmed as recognition set in. That lush mouth curved in one of her heart-stopping smiles.
He dropped to his knees beside her. Dragged her into his arms and poured himself into a kiss fueled by desperation and soul-deep longing.
Her response was immediate and rewarding. Her arms slid around his neck and her breasts pressed against his chest. The kiss soothed and sparked, caressed and crackled, as each gave in to feelings too strong to ignore.
Relief poured through him. All the longing he’d felt, all the loneliness he’d endured fell away as her embrace nourished his parched, weary soul.
She held nothing back, as though her own longings might be as strong as his. Never breaking contact, he swept her into his arms and rose, striding toward the cabin.
She broke away for one second to ask, “Grant?”
“At Tía’s,” he gasped and once more sealed her mouth with his. He stripped away her clothes as he strode through the house. Eagerly she tore at his shirt.
They fell onto his bed in a frenzy. Suddenly, nothing was fast enough, no kiss deep enough, skin bared far too slowly. He barely got his boots and jeans off before she was begging him, “Quinn…now.”
He sank into her in one swift stroke.
Both of them gasped.
Then with a feral growl, Quinn began to move within her. He wanted to brand himself so deeply inside her that she’d never forget. The thought of another man in his place made him ruthless, determined to take her to such heights of bliss in his arms that other men would pale in comparison.
His hands caressed, his tongue teased, his lips tormented. He reached for her with his mind, entwining ever deeper within her. All the longing he knew he could not voice cascaded from his heart, sealing them within a waterfall of rapture.
All the words they couldn’t speak, all the cravings they had to deny…all these and more could be spoken only through touch. Their coupling was fast and furious, their desire all-consuming. All rational thought slipped away.
Nothing existed but the two of them, desperate to become one.
Unspeakable bliss flew them past the edge of the world.
Long moments later, as the frenzy spiraled down, as the chill of reality set in, the memory of that vision, he drew her closer, determined to keep her safe, unwilling to let go until he was forced.
Lorie nestled more closely as though she heard him, fingers digging into his sides as if to hold onto him, too.
Bitterness edged into his heart.
Of all the things he’d ever thought he wanted in his lifetime, he saw them now for what they were: nothing. He trade everything he’d ever had, everything he’d ever hoped for, to be allowed to keep her in his life.
Maybe you could visit, his mind urged.
He rebelled at the thought. Settle for a few days here and there? Wonder who she was with between visits? Sit back and watch when someday the man she deserved swept her away?
Uh-uh. Letting her go would hurt like hell, but a clean break was the only answer. He knew instinctively he’d never get over her if he didn’t.
As if he’d ever get over her, anyway.
But there was no point in dwelling on that which would come soon enough. He resolved to treasure the time they had right now. Make the most of every minute and quit longing for what he couldn’t have.
If for no other reason than to make it easier for her when the time came, he’d keep the words he wanted so desperately to say locked up. No sense torturing himself or making her feel bad. Just shut up and do the best you can.
And store up the sunshine for the darkness ahead.
And so the days flew mercilessly, one after the next. They spent as much time together as they possibly could. When Quinn had to leave to take care of ranch business, Lorie often visited Consuela, learning and observing, and sometimes helping her out.
More often than not, Grant chose to go with Quinn, and Lorie didn’t blame him. She watched her son blossom and grow strong as he imitated the man he worshipped. Quinn’s influence on Grant nourished her son in ways she could never have accomplished. Grant was more relaxed and more confident than she’d ever seen him. She realized as she watched him how much he needed a man in his life on a permanent basis.
A man like Quinn. But she already knew there was only one Quinn Marshall. If she searched for a lifetime, she’d never find anyone to rival him.
Part of who he was came from this wild country, and she felt certain he would suffer if forced to be away too long. Their situation was irreconcilable—he belonged in Texas, and she belonged in New York.
Oh, she didn’t belong there the way his roots were in these canyons. New York was a means to an end, not a home. So where was home for her?
The answer hit like a thunderbolt.
Here. The only place she’d ever been that felt deeply, irrevocably right.
But even if Quinn wanted her here—and he hadn’t asked—the only way she knew to support herself meant living in New York.
It all kept coming back to what she’d built her life doing. Her career choice might seem empty now, but it was all she had. With no answer in sight, Lorie pushed her questions away and tried to deny her yearning.
The days passed like quicksilver. And the nights held both pain and pleasure. Only in darkness did they let themselves express the depth of their sorrow, the ache of the coming parting. Not in words…never with words. Only touches, gestures…sighs mixed with moans.
Each night, Quinn took Lorie into his bed and loved her.
Each dawn, they parted. A little deeper in love, a little more desperate to hold off the calendar.
Lorie could tell that something was bothering Quinn, but he wrapped a veil of privacy around the moments when he awoke in the dark, sweat glistening, his face pale and haunted. She’d asked, but he wouldn’t answer, so she settled for nestling close until he quieted, feeling his arms tighten around her as though his nightmares might steal her away.
He grew more drawn as the days passed, yet never once did he lose his calm patience with Grant or his tender regard for her. His gaunt, weary lines mirrored the desolation growing inside her.
She knew she should make the break and leave. Ben had already called once, wondering how much more time she needed. She’d put him off, but she couldn’t do so much longer.
She kept hoping for a miracle and clinging to each moment, though the waiting was killing them both.
“Mom?”
She looked up. She and Grant were working in Consuela’s garden. Consuela had a patient inside, a young pregnant woman for whom she’d serve as midwife when the time came, which didn’t look to be too long. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Do we have to go back?”
His question so closely mirrored her thoughts that she wondered if she’d spoken them out loud. She bought time for herself. “To New York, you mean?”
“Yeah. Couldn’t we stay here with Quinn and Tía?” His hazel eyes pleaded.
She sighed. “I wish we could, honey, but I have to get back to the show.”
“The show’s stupid. Why can’t we stay here with Quinn and let him be my dad?”
“Grant!” Her voice was sharper than she’d intended. “The show is how I make my living, so you and I can eat and have a roof over our heads and all those toys you love.”
Grant looked hurt but defiant. “We have food and a roof right here, and I don’t need those toys anymore. Quinn can show me lots of other things to do, and I can help him around the ranch—he said so.”
The longing in his eyes hurt the more because it so resembled the longing in her heart. “Quinn hasn’t asked us to stay, Grant. He isn’t responsible for us.”
“He loves me, Mom! He said so,” Grant shouted, wiping his eyes. “And I love him. He should be my dad. Mom, please let’s stay here and let him be my dad.” The pathos of his plea tore at her resolve. She didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t so simple.
“Honey, it’s not—” She stopped at a sound she couldn’t identify.
“Lorie, niña, please come here quickly,” Consuela’s voice sounded strained.
“Stay here, Grant. I’ll be right back.” She raced into the house to see the young woman sprawled on the floor and Consuela beneath her, her coloring faded to gray. A wetness spread on the floor beneath the young woman, who stirred and moaned, grasping her belly.
“I am afraid I must ask you to help me. Anna’s baby is coming a bit early. She fainted and as I tried to catch her, I fell.”
“Of course.” Lorie was already lifting the younger woman off Consuela. “Do you think anything is broken?” she asked Consuela.
“I do not believe so, but I am finding it hard to breathe.”
“Don’t worry about anything.” But oh, how she wished Consuela had a telephone. She completely understood why the lack of one made Quinn crazy.
As she half-carried Anna into the front room, she called out to Grant. She settled Anna with assurances that she’d return quickly, then returned to the living room for Consuela. Grant stood in the doorway, his eyes round as saucers. As Lorie squatted down to help Consuela up onto the couch, she issued a command to Grant in a no-nonsense voice. “Grant, Tía had a fall, and one of her patients needs help. I need for you to run to the barn to get Quinn and bring him back here, all right?”
His voice shook a little when he answered, “Okay, Mom. But will Tía be all right?” A sob hitched in his voice.
Consuela answered for her, panting. “Yes, híjito, I will be fine, but you would help us both if you would get Quinn to come quickly.”
“I will, I promise. I can run really fast.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Lorie said. “Be careful. And if you don’t find Quinn at the barn or the cabin, come right back.”
“Okay, Mom.” The screen door slammed behind him.
Lorie busied herself settling a pillow under Consuela’s head until she heard a moan from the other room. She looked up at the older woman, hoping her terror didn’t show.
Consuela smiled wanly. “I am sorry that you must do this. I will feel better in a minute and will come in there.”
“No!” She forced herself to calm. “I’ll be fine. You stay right here until Quinn comes. Just tell me what to do.”
“Remove as much of her clothing as she will allow. Place your hands on her belly and time the contractions. Tell me how long they last and how far apart they are.”
Lorie headed toward the room but looked back. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave you?”
Consuela smiled faintly. “I will call out for you if I need you, niña.”
Following her instincts, Lorie went to the bathroom and moistened a washcloth, then moved to the young woman, whose eyes were rounded in fear. Lorie clasped her hand and focused on calming her. “It’s all right. You just fainted and your baby’s decided to come a little early.”
“La Señora? Is she hurt?”
“She’s resting, but she will be fine.” Lorie wished she could be sure of that herself; Consuela’s pallor worried her. “Now, let’s get you comfortable.” She talked to the young woman as she worked, asking questions to distract her as she cooled her with soothing strokes of the cloth.
She saw Anna tensing and did as she’d been instructed, placing her hand on the young woman’s belly and watching the clock beside the bed, ma
rking the length of the contraction and the time it ended as Anna clutched at her hand.
Remembering her own Lamaze training, she spoke up. “Have you taken childbirth classes? Do you know about Lamaze breathing?”
“No. We are far from any class.”
“Don’t worry. I can help you.” She would have to, wouldn’t she? The welfare of both women was up to her for the moment.
“The next time a contraction begins, I want you to take a deep breath when you feel it start, then pant from your diaphragm like this—” She demonstrated. “—until it’s over. I’ll do them with you, all right?”
Anna looked dubious but hopeful, and Lorie felt her relax just a bit. She wanted to check on Consuela, but knew she had to wait to see how long this interval would last.
Not long, unfortunately. As the next one came, Lorie grabbed Anna’s hand and took a deep breath, nodding to Anna to do the same. Then she panted, while watching the clock and timing.
“Good!” she praised Anna when it was over. “I want to check on Consuela, but I’ll be right back.”
Slowly, Anna released her death grip on Lorie’s hand. Lorie raced into the living room to report, stopping at the door as she saw Consuela’s eyes closed. The old woman heard her and opened them, but her discomfort was evident. Lorie rushed to the sofa and took Consuela’s hands in her own.
“Consuela? What can I do for you?” She cursed the lack of a telephone in this house. What did one do when it was the healer who was ill? She stifled her panic and stroked Consuela’s forehead, waiting for the woman to speak.
“I…will be…fine. Anna?”
“Is doing all right, just scared.” Like me. “Her contractions are about a minute and a half long and four minutes apart.”
Consuela closed her eyes but continued to speak. “Good. It will not be long, niña. You must get my scissors and twine from my bag over there. Boil water and sterilize the scissors; the twine is in a case and has already been done.” Her voice grew raspy.
“Do you want some water?” The old woman nodded.
“I’ll be right back.” She raced into the other room where Anna lay, pale and afraid. She grasped Anna’s hands. “I must prepare some things, but you know what to do if I’m not here when the next contraction comes.” Anna looked dubious, but Lorie bored a look into her. “You can do this, Anna. I won’t be far.”
The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3) Page 20