Moonlight and Magic

by Rebecca Paisley

  She’d remain calm with Sterling, she decided. She wouldn’t allow him to see that he could rattle her so easily. No matter what he said to her, she’d answer him as directly and as nonchalantly as she could. Yes, that was surely the best way. Responding to his fury with anger or fear would only provide more fuel.

  Sterling stalked behind her, cursing with each step he took. “You’re going back. Right now. Find that Arabian gargoyle you ride, and—”

  “No.” Gingerly, she sat by the fire, moaned at the sting she still felt in her backside, and rolled to her side. “No? What do you mean no?”

  “No means no, and I mean no. The more prompt a refusal, the less the disappointment.’ Publilius Syrus. You’re getting a prompt refusal. No, I won’t go back. I’m going with you to Tucson.”

  His breath shuddered from him. He clenched his fists. “How did you find me? Did Antonio—”

  “Antonio promised to stay with the children until I get back.” That wasn’t a lie. Antonio had promised to stay with the children. But Sterling didn’t have to know his friend had taken that oath only fifteen minutes ago.

  “So you trailed me?” Sterling asked incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying! I covered my trail so no one could possibly find Cochise’s stronghold. And you know nothing about following a trail!”

  “You only thought you covered your trail,” she answered sassily. “Even Venus could have followed it. You may as well have painted a white stripe behind you for all the good you did covering your tracks.” Now that, she mused without a shred of guilt, was a bald-faced lie. Only an Apache warrior could have found Sterling’s trail.

  His eyes narrowing, he crouched beside her. Her hair, spread all about her, was a striking contrast to the pale sand. He grew even more angry when he realized he wanted to touch those ebony tresses. Damn her for being so beautiful! “You’re lying,” he snarled.

  She looked up and grinned at his ferocious frown. “Sir, do you accuse me of telling falsehoods?”

  He tried not to notice how lovely her smile was, but for a split second it captivated him. Damn the deceitful witch to hell and back for the power she had over him! “I think a lie and a falsehood are one and the same, don’t you?” he snapped.

  “Well, I suppose so, but... ‘if there were no falsehood in the world, there would be no doubt; if there were no doubt, there would be no inquiry; if no inquiry, no wisdom, no knowledge, no genius...’ Walter Landor. Now, Sterling, what would the world be without the lies that eventually give way to genius?”

  “To hell with all that quotation stuff!” he raged, and stabbed his fingers through his hair. “And to hell with the way you always make sense out of things that don’t make sense! Damn you, Chimera. Damn you for coming! You don’t really think you’re going to Tucson, do you?”

  “No, I don’t think that at all.”

  Her answer took him off-guard. He’d expected her to argue.

  “I don’t think I’m going, I know I am.”

  He flew to his feet and kicked sand into the fire. “Why?” he thundered, and spun to face her again. “What could you possibly hope to gain by going to Tucson?”

  “Time with you.”

  “Ha!” he yelled, with such vehemence it almost shattered her will to remain calm. With shaky fingers she reached for the half-filled plate that must have been his dinner and nibbled on a piece of hard cornbread before picking up a piece of roasted meat. “What kind of meat is this?”

  He didn’t answer. Why the hell wasn’t she affected by his anger? Wasn’t the demented twit afraid of what he might do to her? Damn her!

  “I said, What kind of meat is—”

  “It’s quail, dammit! It’s quail!”

  “But we’re in the desert. Is there a shortage of iguana this time of year?”

  Her calm reference to iguana made him remember the time when she’d asked him if he’d ever eaten iguana. His heart ached with the memory. He yanked his fingers through his hair again.

  “You burned this quail,” Chimera said lightly, her wildly beating heart a complete contrast to the almost flippant tone she forced into her voice.

  Her extreme serenity made him feel vaguely uneasy, and he couldn’t understand why. He still had the upper hand. He could take her back to the Apaches even if it meant dragging her there. So why the hell did he feel he was losing this battle and that she would, indeed, accompany him to Tucson?

  Was it because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt there would be no way to keep her from going to Tucson if she’d set her mind to go?

  Or was it because during the three days he’d been away from her he’d thought of nothing but her?

  The questions battered him, making him even angrier. Dammit, he would take her back to the Apaches, he fumed. No matter what she said or did, she would go back!

  “I said you burned the quail,” she repeated.

  “You had no trouble eating it!”

  “I was hungry.”

  “Why?” he sneered. “Didn’t Antonio feed you while the two of you followed me?”

  “Well, of course he did, but—” She broke off. He’d trapped her into telling the truth. Her eyes widened. “I mean—Well, what I meant to say was that Antonio gave me sufficient food for my journey, but—but I dropped it.”

  “Yeah, sure. Call Pegasus, Chimera, I’m taking you back to the Apaches.”

  She gazed intently at him instead. He looked so strong, so unbreakable. And yet, on the day he’d left her, she’d seen his vulnerability so clearly. For as long as she lived, she would never forget that tear. “I’ve never seen an oyster,” she told him. “But I read something about them in a book I have about sea life. An oyster shell is very hard. But if you pry it open, the animal inside is soft.”

  “Why the hell are we talking about oysters?” he demanded furiously.

  “Because at this moment you remind me of one.”

  He let his head fall back over his shoulders, frustration rushing through him. With it came the total bewilderment she always made him feel. “Once you said I was a hero, a knight in shining armor. And once you told me I was icing. Now I’m an oyster. Dios mio, why do I even try to understand the way your mind works? Get Pegasus and let’s go! I’m not going to stand here all night talking about sea life with—”

  “I’m talking about your vulnerability, Sterling,” she told him gently. She rose, discovered her bottom didn’t sting anymore, and crossed to where he stood. “On the outside you’re the hard shell of the oyster: inside you’re like the oyster itself—tender and vulnerable.”

  He didn’t answer, but only watched as Pegasus ambled into the camp. “All right, there he is. Let’s go.”

  “You wept when you left me, Sterling.”

  He sucked in air. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he stared up at the desert moon. “I haven’t cried since I was a child.”

  “Now who’s lying?”

  “Grown men don’t cry!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not a manly thing to do.” He shuffled his feet in the sand.

  “But you did weep. Are you saying you’re unmanly?”

  “I’m saying nothing of the sort! I didn’t cry when I left you!”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No, I didn’t! Men don’t cry, Chimera, and that’s the end of this discussion!”

  “But why are men capable of weeping if they aren’t supposed to cry?”

  “Shut up, Chimera!”

  “Your tear—how it shone! Like a diamond, but how much more precious than a diamond it was. A man who can weep is unmanly? No, Sterling. Tears may flow from the eyes, but they come from the heart. A man who can weep is a man with a heart, and a man with a heart is the strongest kind of all. I love you, Sterling. I love you more than I ever dreamed it possible to love someone. Let me go to Tucson with you. Please let me go.” She took a step closer to him.

  Her breast brushed against his arm. “No!” His chest was s
o tight, he could hardly find his next breath. Dios mio, he had to get control over the urge to grab her, kiss her, make love to her!

  “If you take me back to the Apaches, I’ll just get Antonio to help me find you again,” she warned.

  He growled a strong profanity and moved away from her. “Look, Chimera. I despise you. Is that clear enough for you, or should I try to think of stronger words? Others come to mind, you know. Like loathe, hate, and detest. Choose whichever you like the best.”

  She refused to let the tears come. She was going to stand up to him no matter what he said. “I love you. And there are other words for love too. There’s adore and—”

  “Shut up, Chimera. I left you because I never wanted to see you again!”

  “But I followed you. I’ll follow you again if I have to.”

  Dios mio, she was so damn beautiful when she raised her eyebrow like that. “I feel like shaking you!” That was a lie, he knew. He’d never lay a hand on her, no matter how angry she made him. Hurting her, leaving a bruise on her flawless white skin...The thought made him ill.

  “I feel like kissing you.”

  The memory of the softness of her lips made his heart skip a beat. “I will never trust you.”

  “And I’ll never stop trusting you.”

  He felt his anger ebbing and knew he had to do something before he took her in his arms. “This argument has ended.”

  “But my love for you never will.”

  He stalked away from her and stretched out on the sand by the fire. “Go to sleep.”

  “You aren’t taking me back to the Apaches?”

  “Would it do me any good?”

  “So I can go to Tucson?”

  “Short of tying you to a cactus, I can’t think of a damn way to stop you. But you’ll be on your own there, Chimera. You don’t exist for me. Not here, not there, not anywhere, ever again. Never.”

  Patiently, she let him rant and rave. “Can I sleep with you?”

  “What?” he asked, totally amazed at her gall. “Hell, no!”

  “But I’ll be cold. The wind is—”

  “You can have my blanket and bedroll.” Dammit, why had he said that? He didn’t care if she was cold or not!

  “But what about you, Sterling? Won’t you be cold?”

  “It’s none of your concern.”

  She found the sleeping equipment and calmly made herself a bed. “I’m still cold even with the blanket.”

  Liar, he accused her silently. She just wanted him to sleep with her. “They say suffering is good for the soul, Chimera.”

  “But you must be suffering too. You don’t have anything at all to cover up with. Why should we both suffer? Come over here with me.”

  He only turned away.

  Chimera pulled her blanket under her chin, but she continued to shiver. Sterling was still angry, she knew. He was concentrating on only the bad things he believed about her. He wasn’t remembering any of the good things they’d done together. Perhaps she should remind him of them? “Remember our midnight parties?”

  A great pang of longing swept through him. God, how he’d loved those nights in her arms.

  “Remember when you got hives? You know, I still feel badly about that, Sterling. But how was I know you couldn’t eat honey?”

  Sterling gazed into the fire, drowning in a sea of memories. Bittersweet emotions coursed through him.

  “Remember how you used to make fun of my magic? You really shouldn’t do that, Sterling. You have no idea how hard it is to be a witch. And until you know, you’ve no right to tease witches. Of course, you might have taunted me out of jealousy. Maybe you envied me my powers. Flaubert wrote: ‘A man is a critic when he cannot be an artist...’”

  Her accusation was so ridiculous, his lips twitched. The near-smile infuriated him. He picked up a handful of sand and tightened his fingers around it. “Be quiet, Chimera.”

  “And remember the night we made love for the first time? The moonlight...the magic...do you remember, Sterling?”

  His loins tightened, heated. Desire began to swell.

  “You weren’t at all leaky. Sterling. I blush when I think of how I believed you were an innocent. Remember when I told you we’d first pour in the water before we’d trust you with the wine? Sterling, did you laugh inside when I said that?”

  He almost smiled again and his need for her continued to rise. He squeezed the sand in his hand again and tried to call back his wrath. He found a shred of it and hung onto it for all he was worth.

  “If you did laugh, I want you to know I’m not mad at you. Laughter is good for you. Chamfort wrote: ‘The most wasted day is that in which we have not laughed.’ Remember how often we laughed together, Sterling? We didn’t waste many days at all, did we? Sterling? Sterling?”

  “What!”

  “My, you don’t have to shout at me! I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to sleep now.”

  “Thank God!” He waited for her to say something else, positive that she wasn’t really finished with her bout of chitchat. But when a long time had passed, and she remained silent, he turned and looked at her. She was asleep. Her teeth were chattering, he noticed. She really was cold. She hadn’t lied about that.

  “Ah, hell,” he growled, and moved into the bedroll with her. Snuggling deep into the blanket and closer to her, he tried to share his body heat with her. “I know you’re asleep and can’t hear me,” he whispered, “but just for my own peace of mind, I have to tell you that I’m not sleeping with you for any other reason other than keeping you from catching cold. Not that I care in the slightest if you get a cold...but I—Well, just in case your cold were to get worse and worse...I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

  She squirmed closer to him. “Gold,” she murmured in her sleep. “Gold.”

  Gold? What the hell she was dreaming about? She pressed herself against him, seeking more of his warmth. The desire to hold her one last time consumed him. He tried to find the will to fight it, but lost. He knew she was still asleep. She’d never remember this moment. He sighed, put his arms around her, and held her the way he always had at night. He buried his face in the pillow of her hair, the way he always used to do. He listened to the soft rhythm of her breathing. And as he always had, he fell asleep with the tranquil lullaby whispering through his mind.

  The ride to Tucson was the worst experience of Chimera’s life. Sand clung to her entire body, even filling her mouth, and no amount of water could wash it out. She itched all over. But the worst thing about the trip was Sterling’s absolute silence. He wouldn’t even ride next to her, but kept Gus several paces ahead. Silently, she called him every bad thing she could think of, the worst being a darn meanie.

  Nevertheless, she kept her spirits up by concentrating on how much she loved him. She had no idea how she would get through to him, but her faith kept desperation at bay. Not even the desert sun was stronger than her hope.

  She’d never been to Tucson before. Her first sight of it convinced her she never wanted to return. Everything was so dry. The walls surrounding the town were falling apart, and it looked to her like they had simply dried up and crumbled. There wasn’t a drop of moisture in even the watering troughs that dotted the hard, parched street. Shriveled brown weeds poked up near the wooden hitching posts, from which sway-backed mules and listless horses were tied. Even the air was dry. If she breathed too deeply, the dust choked her.

  She saw small adobe houses with red-tiled roofs. Damp laundry, already dingy from the dirt-ridden air that dried it, hung on fences around the boxlike homes. One building, its porch littered with three unconscious men, had a lopsided sign above it that read loon. She guessed it to be the saloon. Maybe someone had shot the S and the A off the sign, she thought with a slight tremor.

  She saw more Mexicans than whites, and she’d been around the Apaches long enough to guess that some people she passed were half-breeds. She knew her suspicions were correct when she saw how rudely these people were treated
by others. She had to bite her lips to keep from objecting to such blatant prejudice.

  She saw, too, that many people were staring and pointing at Pegasus. The camel seemed to sense their interest. He turned his head to look at her and Chimera could have sworn he was seeking reassurance. “There, there, Pegasus,” she cooed softly, and patted his neck. “They’re staring because you’re such a beautiful animal.”

  Sterling heard her and thought that the women in the streets might have been gawking at the camel, but the men were gaping at the gorgeous girl who rode it. He watched the inhabitants warily. He might despise her, he fumed, but there was no way in hell he’d let anyone harm her, though God only knew why he felt the need to defend the witch who’d betrayed him. So much for her being on her own, he raged. “Don’t look at anyone,” he warned her, and urged Gus closer to Pegasus.

  She tried not to, but caught herself staring at three men whose looks sent fright clawing down her spine. Two sat on a step in front of the general store, the third leaned lazily upon a broken fence. They were the most unsavory human beings she’d ever seen. She forced her gaze quickly away, but could still feel them leering at her as Pegasus passed them.

  “Drifters, outlaws, lonely miners, love-starved cowboys, and unscrupulous gamblers,” Sterling said quietly. “They all welcome you to their town, Chimera. And if you so much as glance at them they’ll take it as a sign that you’d very much enjoy the kind of attention they’d love to give you.”

  She shivered, and tried to keep her eyes directed forward. But she still managed to observe two Mexican women out of the corner of her eye. She gasped. Why, the women were barely clothed! Their tight-fitting dresses actually revealed the top parts of their dark brown hippies, and their skirts were short enough on one side to reveal almost the entire length of their legs!

  Her fingers tightened around the reins when she saw them smiling and waving at Sterling. It didn’t matter one iota to her that he was not returning their attentions, she was infuriated anyway. Jealousy washed over her, beginning in the pit of her belly and rising to her throat, filling her with a rage that made her want to jump off Pegasus and slap the harlots who flirted so openly with Sterling.