Mr. Miracle (Harlequin Super Romance)

by McSparren, Carolyn

  The ice storm seemed a confirmation—isolating them together in a fantastic landscape where rules didn’t apply.

  The truth was that he craved her, whatever the consequences. No amount of rationalization would change that.

  He sighed deeply and felt her head rise and fall on his good shoulder with the movement.

  “Am I too heavy?” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head. Her hair was slightly damp. “Light as a feather, love. But likely to catch pneumonia if we don’t get some covers over us.”

  “Oh.” She started to sit up, but he tightened the arm that imprisoned her waist.

  “There ought to be a way to do this without letting go of you.”

  “Not unless you’ve perfected double levitation. The bed’s still made.” She chuckled. “Or it started out that way.”

  “We’ve messed it up. I suppose I’ll have to let you go. But only long enough to get under these quilts. If you think I’m going upstairs to sleep...”

  “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

  In less than a minute she was cuddled up against him under the covers. “These sheets are freezing.”

  “I’ll warm you up.” He pulled her closer.

  “You already have.” She sighed and began to relax. She lay facedown against his chest with her left arm thrown across him. She began to trace the map of scars that ran from his shoulder to his elbow. “It must have been bad. I’m amazed you kept your arm.”

  “Thanks to Vlado’s reflexes, I lost more flesh than muscles above the elbow. No nerve damage. Just a great deal of raw meat and blood.”

  She shuddered. “Your brother actually meant to kill you with the hay baler.”

  “Apparently. I suppose I should have been suspicious when Robert offered to come along to help bale the upland pasture. He’d been home for over a week, and this was the first morning he’d not lazed in bed until noon.” His tone turned bitter. “Often with my wife, as it happened. The rest of us of course were out and working at dawn.”

  “In your own house?”

  “Aye, there was nothing shabby about Robert. When he went for a con, he went first-class. No small crimes for him. Embezzlement, adultery, then attempted fratricide.”

  “You’ve decided that’s what it was, then?”

  “Who knows? I have no memory of the day past pulling on my Wellingtons and hitching up the hay baler behind the tractor. Apparently Robert and I were walking behind the baler. Fairly simple job. Good place for a chat, unless something gets stuck. Hay goes in, tines comb it into place, it’s crushed into a neat bale, tied and spit out. I don’t think Robert planned it. Definitely a crime of opportunity. God’s choice. If the baler got stuck, if he got his chance, then it was meant to be. Robert generally believed he was under divine direction.”

  “And it did.”

  “Bound to happen at least once. Nobody in his right mind stands over the thing without a fork. Vlado says he looked back in time to see Robert pull the fork out of my hand and shove me. I caught myself with my right arm. Smacked my head hard on the side of the baler. Vlado had already hit the switch when he saw what Robert was doing. Said I flapped around like a rag doll. Robert immediately tried to pull me out. Would have ripped the arm out of the shoulder if he’d succeeded. Vlado jumped over the baler and me, landed with both feet in Robert’s chest and started yelling at the top of his lungs. Half a dozen of my cousins and uncles came running. Uncle Hamish pried open the tines with a bar. Vlado says he swung it at Robert’s head, but Robert jumped out of the way in time.”

  “You must have been bleeding terribly.”

  “I nearly died from loss of blood before they got me to hospital. I don’t remember any of this, of course. I was barely conscious for nearly two weeks while Robert and my dear wife were selling the place out from under us.”

  “But weren’t they at the hospital?”

  “Gwyn was, at least some of the time. Vlado told Robert that if he showed his face, he’d kill him. He’d have done it, too. Murder runs in the family.”

  “I beg your pardon?” She raised herself up and stared into his face.

  “You’d better know what you’ve hooked up with, lass. I told you my mother became a very fast widow the night Jock took her.”

  “Your uncle Vlado killed your real father?”

  “Vlado? Not a chance. My father would never have let a band of angry Gypsy kinsmen get near him.”

  “But?”

  “My grandmother carried a knife until the day she died. I couldn’t understand why Vlado wanted it buried in the coffin with her.”

  “Your grandmother killed your father?” Vic sounded incredulous.

  “Said it was her responsibility since she’d allowed him to marry my mother against her own better judgment. Vlado says he’s buried somewhere on the yard property, but he’s never told me where.”

  “Nobody said anything? Went to the police?”

  Jamey chortled. “The police? This was forty years ago, Vic. Scots haven’t much use for the law in any case. Gypsies avoided it like the plague. Still do, if they can. As far as they were concerned, justice was done. Case closed. They held some sort of council that night. My grandmother had to pay a fine—my father’s family got to keep my mother’s dowry.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Enough. She was furious about that until the day she died.” He laughed. “She was a hell of an old lady—like someone out of the back country in Sicily. Dressed in black. Maybe eighty pounds, ramrod straight, dead smart and with a vocabulary in English and Rom that could tattoo my hide from across the room.” He stroked her back. “I’ve never told a living soul that story till now. You’re the only non-Rom who knows. Uncle Hamish suspects, but even he doesn’t know for certain. Have I frightened you?”

  “Good Lord, Jamey McLachlan, I’ve been frightened of you since you pounced at me off that motorcycle. But not that way.”

  “How then?”

  She sat up and hugged her knees.

  He ran his fingertips lightly down her spine and felt her skin shiver. “Can’t you tell me from down here?” he said. “You’re creating a hell of a draft.”

  She smiled over her shoulder at him and stretched out beside him, not quite touching him. He raised himself on his good arm so that he could look at her face. “Am I so fearsome?”

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “Oh, yes. Here I was content, satisfied, in harmony with God and man, come to terms with my shortcomings. Living among people who valued me, doing work I loved. Not able to ride of course, but everybody understood. My niece was ecstatically happy and finally settled. We had an adequate income for a change. All was right with the world.”

  “Truly?”

  “Of course not, you ninny! And damn your eyes, the instant you got off that motorcycle I knew you were going to screw up my comfortable life.”

  “Sorry, love.”

  “You better not be sorry!” She threw herself into his arms. “I’m alive. If you can’t feel pain, you can’t feel pleasure. I’ve been on an even keel for far too long. Even if I wind up hitting the depths, thanks to you I know what it feels like to touch the heights.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  VIC HAD NO IDEA how long the telephone had been ringing when she finally dragged herself from sleep to answer it. She stuck her hand out from under the covers and grabbed the thing. “Hello,” she croaked.

  “Vic?”

  “Albert?”

  “You sound awful. You sick?”

  Vic took a deep breath. Jamey stirred against her back and stroked her hip sleepily. She jumped and was instantly and completely awake. “Uh, no. I’m fine. A little hungover, maybe.”

  “You looked outside?”

  “No.”

  “It’s a bad one. I got half that big old pin oak in my front yard across my driveway. You got power? We don’t.”

  She slipped down under the covers and took the telephone with her. She squinted at the electric clock beside
the bed. It was dark and read 3:30 a.m. “Nope. Clock’s stopped. No wonder it’s so cold. What time is it, anyway?”

  “Six-forty-five. Even if I could get out of my driveway, the roads are a skating rink. They’re telling everybody to stay home. Schools are out. Half the county’s got no power. Can you and what’s-his-name handle things without me?”

  “What’s-his-name and I did fine without you last week. Take Linette back to bed. Stay warm.”

  “Hate to leave you with this mess. Without power to the heating elements, the water in the horse buckets’ll freeze.”

  “We can fill them with warm water. The water heaters are gas, the stove is gas, and I’ve already got a fire laid in the living room.”

  “You got food? For you and what-his-name, I mean. I know the horses are okay.”

  “Yes, Albert. I might even bake a loaf of bread if I could figure out how to keep the dough warm enough to convince the yeast to rise. Call me when your power comes back on.”

  “If you’re sure. See you tomorrow.”

  “God willing and we get a thaw. Be careful cutting up that tree.”

  “Yeah. Kenny’s gonna come over with a couple of his homies to help if he can get out of his driveway. Bye.”

  She dropped the phone back into its cradle and set it on the floor beside the bed.

  “Alone at last,” Jamey whispered into the nape of her neck.

  “Us, two dogs, one cat and a gazillion hungry and irritated horses.”

  “They won’t die if breakfast is a little late. But I may if you don’t turn around and kiss me.”

  “I look like the devil. I didn’t exactly take time to remove my makeup last night.”

  “I promise to forgive your grubby face if you’ll forgive my scratchy beard.” He scraped his chin across her shoulder blade. She yipped and turned to him. He caught her, leaned over her and kissed her soundly. “Good morning, my lovely lass.”

  “I’m nobody’s lovely anything at the moment.”

  “You’re mine. And if you’ve forgotten that, I suppose I’ll have to show you all over again.”

  This time they made love slowly, gently, taking time to explore one another’s bodies, to stroke, caress, begin to learn every curve of hip and thigh, until he covered her, moving softly, slowly, building until hot passion forced the pace. This time they climaxed together, almost as one being. Afterward they dozed in each other’s arms, until Vic’s eyes popped open. “Oh, Lord, the horses!”

  He groaned. “For the first time in my life, I think I could grow to really hate horses.”

  At the same moment, both dogs began to whine and scratch outside the bedroom door. “I’ll let them out and start the coffee. Stay here where it’s warm, Vic, love,” Jamey said, and swung out of bed. “Great God in heaven! This floor’s like ice. And every stitch of work clothes I have is upstairs.”

  Vic poked her nose out of the covers. “Gallantry costs, buster. You offered. You do it. Oh, and you might light the fire in the fireplace on your way by.”

  From the foot of the bed he turned a malevolent eye on her. “Right. That’s it.” Without warning he grabbed the quilts and yanked them off the bed with a bullfighter’s flourish.

  “Monster!” she yelled, sat up and made a grab for them. He dove on top of her and smothered her mouth with his.

  “Let Albert find our frozen corpses locked together.”

  She struggled. “If we’ve thawed, we’ll smell to high heaven. Get off me. I’m heading for a shower. At least the water will be hot.”

  “May I join you, boss-lass? I’ll bring down some clothes from upstairs.”

  “Only after you’ve completed your chores to my satisfaction.”

  “Ah! Incentive pay!” He hopped to the door, opened it, fended off the dogs, who began to yelp and jump around him. “Come on, lads. Nobody’s likely to be around outside to see me in my birthday suit.”

  Stripes the cat slid around his ankles and bolted under the remaining covers. “At least somebody’s got the right idea,” Vic said.

  She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, saw that her makeup had stayed relatively pristine, considering what she’d been doing most of the night. Her hair was another matter. It stuck up all over her head. She brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face, then turned on the shower.

  “Chores done, teeth brushed, boss-lass.” Jamey said from the other side of the closed bathroom door. “All right to come in?”

  She looked down at her body. Last night in the dark was one thing, but this was morning, and a damned cold one. Still, she couldn’t very well spend the rest of her life hiding her naked body. “Sure,” she said, and stepped into the shower. Clouds of steam rose and enveloped her. In a moment so did Jamey. They scrubbed and fondled until the water began to cool. Jamey got out first, dried, wrapped a towel around his waist and held another out in both arms to envelope her. The bathroom was steamy but relatively warm.

  “I brought my clothes downstairs,” Jamey said. “Better get to it. Coffee should be ready by now. Who in his right mind would be a stockman?”

  She pulled underwear, thermal long johns, her heaviest sweater and two pairs of socks out of her dresser while he was putting on his clothes. As she reached for her underpants, he stopped her and turned her to face him. He ran his gaze down her body.

  She felt herself blush despite the cold. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “You could play tic-tac-toe on my belly.”

  He ran his fingers across the scars. “And snakes-and-ladders on my arm. I’d say we’re a matched set.” He dropped to his knees, wound his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “Among those million reasons we had not to make love, these two, as you say, are not among them.” He kissed her abdomen, then stood, turned her around and smacked her gently on the behind. “Get dressed before you freeze. Have to save the tic-tac-toe for later.”

  VIC SLIPPED A PAIR of bright orange earmuffs over her ears and tossed a bright fuschia set to Jamey. He made a face, but put them on and pulled a pair of heavy gloves on over his hands. “We’d better walk down,” he said. “Going to take a while to chip the ice off your truck.”

  He opened the front door. “Watch the steps. Hold on to the railing.”

  “I’ve got treads on my... Whoops!” Vic said, and grabbed for Jamey. He held her up until she found her feet and switched hands to grasp the railing.

  “Walk on the grass verge.”

  They locked arms and began the trek. The sky was the color of dirty gym socks. Each time the breeze blew, every branch of tree and shrub creaked, groaned and occasionally snapped. At least a half inch of clear ice encased everything. The crocuses looked as though someone had poured acrylic over them to preserve them for eternity. The ground under their feet popped like corn.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jamey said.

  “It’s evil.”

  “The two are not mutually exclusive. So far I don’t see any major damage—just a few branches down, and none across the fences.”

  “We’ll have to check the big house after we feed the animals,” Vic said. “Pray none of the pipes in Mike’s fancy new plumbing burst, and none of the oaks has come down on the roof.”

  They had to pry open the front door of the stable after breaking the coating of ice on the handle. Inside they could hear the horses stamping and snorting. “They know breakfast is late,” Vic said. The telephone began to ring. “Bother.”

  “Get the phone. I’ll look after the beasts.”

  She went into the office and picked it up. “Vic? It’s Angie. Are you all right out there?”

  “No lights, no heat, but nothing major. You?”

  “Kevin’s at the hospital as usual. Accidents all over town. Mostly minor. And three women in labor. Wouldn’t you know.”

  “Ange, I’d like to talk, but...”

  “You’ve got work to do. I know. I just wanted to check on you and tell you that I was serious about breeding Boop to Mike’s stallion.”

  “Angie�
��”

  “No. I mean it. Find out what kind of a stud fee he wants, and I’ll bring Boop over as soon as this mess clears up. And another thing, Vic, thanks for getting Kevin to open up. I knew he and Sam didn’t get along, I just didn’t know why. Or even that Sam was adopted.”

  “Is Kevin really going to try to mend fences?”

  “Sure is. At least I am. And I know he’s going to love this baby.” Her voice turned dreamy. “He’s going to be such a good daddy.”

  “And you’re going to be a good mommy. Ange, I really have to go.”

  “I’ll come out there as soon as the roads are clear.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Sure it is. I’ll call first. You can give me your grocery list.”

  Vic nodded. “That’s an offer I won’t refuse. Go read a book or something, Angie. Stay warm. Bye.”

  Jamey stood on the wash rack stirring an enormous cauldron of steaming bran mash to add to the horse’s breakfast menus.

  They worked in companionable silence, moving around each other like dancers performing a familiar step.

  “Today I decree as boss of this operation that we let the stalls stay messy,” Vic said. “Agreed?”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  Jamey flicked on the battery-powered radio on the wash rack. Every station broadcast constant weather updates. No more frozen precipitation was expected, but there would be little thawing and no sun until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

  Crews from as far away as Nebraska had been called in to restore power. Six fires had resulted from improper use of kerosene stoves, and a family of five had been asphyxiated by gas fumes. Neighbors were urged to check on the elderly and the disabled.

  Several high-school gymnasiums became shelters. Store shelves were empty of staples, not a battery was available throughout the city, and camping equipment was at a premium. The hospitals were operating on emergency generators.

  “Poor Kevin. Every time we get any kind of disaster, he has to abandon Angie to go to work,” Vic said.