CHAPTER SIX
The weather was messing up his whole timetable. As the mating hour drew closer, he wondered if he could trace far enough away to resist it. That would mean he’d have to leave her alone in the woods, not to mention delay his cobine procurement even longer. He didn’t have that kind of time.
Connor scanned the bend in the road lined with lofty ponderosa pine, glad they were alive. Yet, he couldn’t stop the sliver of thought snaking through his mind, telling him that if he were dead, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about doing her harm, about binding her to him without her consent. He disregarded the voice in his head, glanced around, and identified their exact location. The nasty weather had made progress slow and obviously treacherous. They were less than halfway to their overnight stop.
And the rain continued, though not with the downpour they had encountered when they left the station. Still, it was a long way from pleasant . . . or dry.
“I’ll unhook a pair of horses and we can ride the rest of the way,” he explained as he climbed in the back of the buggy for supplies. They could only take so much with them on horseback. He glanced from her baggage to the basket of food he’d packed. Yes, food and some fresh clothes and bedding. Stephanie had declared she was resourceful, after all.
Grabbing one of his satchels, he undid the leather bag. He pulled out everything except a change of clothes. Good thing he believed in being prepared. Stephanie twisted around in the seat and watched him. He pointed to her bags. “Which one has something you can wear while riding in it?”
“The travel case to your left.” She paused. “Wait. I can get it.” She stood, hunching over so her head wouldn’t hit the canopy cover.
“Sit back down.” When she didn’t move he repeated the order. “Sit.”
She glared at him as she eased back down. A pretty crimson blush flooded her cheeks. “I can find it if you’d let me.”
He realized her predicament and chuckled to himself. She didn’t want him rummaging through her personal belongings. “I’ve seen my share of ruffles and lace. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
But her hazel eyes sparkled and flashed, contradicting her words, and her white teeth sunk into her lower lip. He pulled out a pair of bloomers, heard her soft moan, and couldn’t resist placing them in his satchel. Then he withdrew a pair of men’s trousers. He looked over them meeting her flustered gaze.
“I wear them under my skirts when I ride.”
“Really?” He felt his voice catch and swore under his breath. Was she taking a lesson from the future? He thought of all the skinny jeans woman wore in his time, and immediately conjured up an image of her shapely curves in a pair of them.
“I suppose you only partner up with the flirty-girl type.”
He didn’t want to talk about the kind of woman he liked, but he was drawn in anyway, intrigued because she had mentioned his tastes in the first place. “That’s right. I don’t waste my time on lily-white virg―” He paused and amended what he was about to say. “—virtuous women.”
Her arched brows smoothly shot upward toward her hairline. She’d caught his meaning. “Are you going to put those in the satchel or not?”
He glanced down at the pants bunched in his large hand. He knew he would notice when she wore them. In his mind, she was already wearing the damned pants and the vision sent an aching wave of arousal straight to his groin. Hip- and thigh-hugging pants. Her long legs. Oh, yes, wouldn’t he love to view that . . .
He shoved them into his bag.
You’ve sworn off women, he reminded himself. Yes, and perhaps there lies the problem, man. Now, you’re admiring your dead friend’s daughter―a fawn-eyed virgin.
He gave his head a shake, then snatched up several items of clothing without paying them any heed. He was too busy fighting the unwelcome desire that burned through him, making him hard and ready.
He grimaced. Not the way he wanted to ride a horse.
After buckling the satchel, he rose up, tipping his head back and allowing the rain to wet his face and cool his body. At least he tried.
He jumped down from the buggy and headed for the horses. He unharnessed the jittery lead animals and loaded them up with supplies, making sure to take along the food he’d gotten from the hotel. Come to think of it, it had to be past two in the afternoon by now. He pulled a watch from his inside pocket. It was closer to three. Dammit. Only three hours of daylight left.
Finally, he returned to Stephanie who’d been inching back and forth on the bench, watching his every move, and dying to escape his stare, he suspected. The creaking of the buggy kept him totally aware of her, disturbingly sharpening the mental image of her in those skinny jeans.
He helped her down from her perch, then walked her over to the horses. “We don’t have saddles. Can you ride bareback?”
“I can ride any way you want me to,” she said with confidence.
Connor coughed. A man could put double meaning to those words.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he said thickly, as he lifted her and set her gently on the horse. Then he showed her his back. He didn’t want her to see the hunger that must be teeming in his eyes or the protrusion of his fangs. Damn, this was getting complicated.
~ ~ ~
Stephanie was freezing. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees in the last fifteen minutes with the wind bearing down on them from the mountains. At least the lightening and thunder had moved along, she thought. By all rights she should be miserable, but she wasn’t. She actually smiled as she followed Connor, replaying in her head his man-in-crisis behavior. The warmth of the horse beneath her seeped through her clothes introducing a toasty sense of well-being. The heat felt wonderful. The smell of the rain-washed forest gave her energy. And Connor, he had been obliging in the transition from buggy to travel by horse.
The road wound through a vale that seemed to take them from one valley to another. She peered between clumps of trees, looking up to where a front of darker, gray clouds formed a line overhead. Another downpour was imminent.
Connor stopped his horse, and her horse halted, too. He twisted and followed her glance. “Doesn’t look good,” he said, putting words to her thoughts.
“We’re going to get soaked.” She paused, then chuckled. “More soaked.”
“There’s a spot up ahead where we can find cover.” He tilted his head in the direction he meant and led the way off the roadway, following an overgrown trail. It ended at a rock shelf that jutted out from the mountain. The hollowed area underneath the shelf—almost big enough for a small log cabin to sit in and nearly as cozy looking—was the perfect place to wait out the next surge of the storm.
If she hadn’t been sitting on her horse, she would have thrown her arms around Connor’s neck and kissed him.
“Oh,” she moaned when they rode beneath the rock cover. “This is heaven.”
“Not my idea of heaven,” he said sternly.
Determined to prove her own abilities and still reeling from his doubt-filled words earlier, Stephanie dismounted in unison with Connor. Like his shadow, she fastened her horse’s tether to a bush that grew from a crack in the rocks. She took the bags off her horse, and when Connor told her that he’d do it for her, she pretended not to hear.
She wasn’t a whiny female who had to have everything done for her. Not like the simpering debutantes back home. Not like the flirtatious women she imagined were to Connor’s taste. Where that last thought materialized from, she couldn’t fathom, but it tasted of vinegar. She swallowed, wishing for a drink of fresh water.
Connor dropped the saddlebags beside the granite rock wall and then began gathering sticks and kindling before assembling them for a fire. Stephanie followed his lead, watching his every move. His steps were fluid and sure. He was a man who knew how to survive. A man who could take care of himself and his family. A man who perhaps gave instead of just taking. He had offered her another chance at compensation for her father
’s share in the business . . .
“I guess we’re not the first ones to hole up here,” she said as she dropped an armload of brushwood to the site of an old campfire. “They even left a bit of firewood.”
Connor sat on his heels while he arranged the logs and sticks. “It’s a great spot. I’ve stopped here many times. Sometimes because of the weather, but mostly because I wasn’t ready to go home.”
The confession hadn’t been planned, she could tell by the I-can’t-believe-I-just-said-that look that crossed his face when he tilted back his head. Yet, his admission, his eyes as he locked his gaze on hers, made her go soft inside. She knew that feeling―not wanting to go home―although their reasons were certainly different. In her case, she didn’t want to encounter the emptiness that awaited her.
Stephanie cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Why are you traveling to Sacramento?” she said, hoping the question wasn’t too personal.
“There is a special byproduct in the mines there. Cobine. It has medicinal qualities.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” Then again, Connor had occupied far too many of her thoughts ever since he’d flashed her that mysteriously hesitant, dimpled smile back at his place that even if she had, she probably wouldn’t remember right now.
“You wouldn’t have. It’s quite rare.”
An uncontrollable shiver went through her before she had a chance to respond. She rubbed her hands together and she tried to keep her teeth from chattering.
“You’re cold.” He stood, then walked to her. He reached for and caught her hand, his warm, dry palm heating hers as he curved his fingers around the backs of her fingers. He led her to where he’d left the satchels. “You need to change into dry clothing.”
His hand and words scorched her. She couldn’t possibly change with him right here. Could she?
“I . . . I don’t need to. I’ll be fine once the fire is going.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Go over behind the horses and put on some dry things.” He shoved the bag into her hands.
Lifting her chin, she didn’t move.
He let out a breath, nodding, then frowned. “I won’t look, if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, the horses will be between us. I’ll get the fire started.”
He sauntered back to the woodpile in that male way that said he knew he was right. She could have sworn she heard the sound of deep masculine laughter, but past the rain rippling through the forest and the whipping wind, she couldn’t tell for sure. She shivered again.
~ ~ ~
Connor sensed her movement when she finally decided to see reason. Taking a match from his inside pocket, he struck it and lit the kindling. He bent over, blowing, encouraging the flame.
The horses snorted behind him, and she answered them, saying something he couldn’t make out. The temptation to glance over his shoulder squeezed at him. With his back rigid and every sense alert, he listened for her movements while he stared at a nonexistent point among the pines. With his acute vampire hearing, it was maddening to hear the wisp of fabric sliding over what he only imagined would be very soft skin.
Jesus, it wasn’t such a good idea to have her change.
“Ouch,” she yelled.
The horses whinnied at her cry, and Connor snapped to his feet, every muscle ready if she needed him. “What is it?” he inquired, scanning the area to make certain she was all right. And there she was . . .
Her slender, shapely, naked legs, from her upper thighs down to her sweet, bare feet, moved gracefully below the animal’s belly. He would remember the sight forever. Her torso was hidden by the horse’s massive body as he’d told her it would be. Damn him for trying to be the gentleman.
“The horse bit my shoulder while I was bending over putting on my―” Her head shot up, and she glared at him over the animal’s back. “You said you wouldn’t look.”
“I didn’t. I thought you were hurt.”
“I’m fine. Now turn back around.”
Reluctantly, he did. But, God, he didn’t want to. He required another delicious peek at those remarkable legs. But he had his commendable noble moments. Today was nothing if not a gigantic noble moment. First by allowing her to tag along to begin with. Yes, that’s what started it all―and landed him in this farce of acting honorable when his body screamed for him to press her up against a tree and plunge into her hard and fast. It was damned near impossible to fight against his nature.
“Oh no,” she murmured.
“What is it?”
She paused for a beat. “Nothing. I’ve found a fix for the problem.”
Problem? He moved toward where she was changing as she came around from behind the horses. He stopped so sharply he might have tripped had he not had the agility born of vampires.
Her sun-streaked hair, the color of golden chestnuts, fell around her shoulders where she must have unpinned it.
“That’s my shirt,” he said, stunned.
“Yes. Well, borrowing it was my only solution. Somehow two of your shirts made it into the satchel and not a one of my blouses. Although there are two of my skirts.”
“Neither of which you are wearing.”
She shrugged. “The riding trousers work fine for the foul-weather purpose. Besides, your shirt drapes practically to my knees.”
That was true. But did she know he could make out every inch of her in that getup? Somehow, he didn’t think she did. The lightweight cotton fabric made him want to push it up to her waist so he could admire how the pants hugged her backside. She looked earthy and wholesome, with a robust dash of innocence—so unlike the chic women he’d known and bedded. But none of them had fired up this insatiable hunger within him, none of them was his blood mate.
He stood there for a moment, not wanting to move. The wind whipped smoke around them from the growing fire as the rain rattled the forest, and he felt disconnected from the problems and responsibilities that awaited him back in his time.
He definitely wasn’t ready to go yet.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The gray sky slid into full darkness rather quickly, like pulling a curtain shut on the sky. Tucked beneath the rock shelter and around the campfire, the day settled into a rather cozy evening. There was warmth, light, and protection. She would be all right here if he had to leave.
How long would the mating thrall last? Connor wondered. He’d heard about it, but a vampire only experienced it once in a lifetime, with his blood mate.
After poking at the burning logs, he stood and inhaled a deep, frustrated breath. Beyond the rock perimeter, the rain fed the trees, soothing the land. But all he felt was friction.
Stephanie plopped down beside him. “What now?” she asked brightly.
“Hungry?” He opened a saddlebag and pulled out several cloth-wrapped items.
“A little,” she said smiling.
He held up an apple. “Catch.”
She did. As she stared at the slick, red skin her stomach made a loud gurgling noise. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, lifting a brow. He thought she blushed, though in the firelight it was hard to tell.
“I confess. I’m famished,” she said, never losing her smile. “What else do you have in there?”
He grinned. “There’s smoked pork sandwiches and blueberry pie.”
“You should smile more often,” she said hesitantly, her voice playful and soft, her lashes lowering then sliding back up to stare at him.
He shrugged, ignoring the tug of allure in his chest. “There’s little to smile about at the moment.”
“Well, it’s more appealing than the frown you usually wear.”
“You want to eat or talk?” he said, holding the sandwich out for her.
She grabbed it and gave him back the apple. “Save that for the morning.”
“Good idea.”
She dusted her free hand off on the leg of her pants, took the sandwich, and held with both hands. She bent her knees, propped her elbows on her thighs, and bit into the
sandwich, rolling her eyes as if it were the best thing she’d ever eaten. When she pulled out of the bite, a slice of pork came with her, caught between her teeth. She stuffed the meat into her mouth with the tips of her fingers and licked them. “Mmm,” she murmured with chipmunk-stuffed cheeks.
Connor shook his head, amused. “You can thank Maybelle when we get back.”
She chewed vigorously, swallowed the mouthful. “Oh, I will. Do you think the rain will let up by the morning?”
“Don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You have a hunch.”
He had an instinct about everything, but how did she know that? He peered at her. The fire crackled as he waited another moment. “In May we sometimes we get these three-day monsoons. We should know in the morning if this is one of them. It wouldn’t be a good idea to leave and get caught in the storm farther up the road, if so. This is the safest place, right here.” With his fingers, he carefully transferred a slice of pie from the red-checkered cloth to the palm of his left hand, then passed the napkin holding the other disheveled piece to her. “Sorry, no plates or silverware.”
“Somehow that makes it taste even better.” She laughed, a warm throaty chuckle.
It seemed being out in the wild freed Stephanie’s starched persona. Could anything stifle her enthusiasm today?
Connor gobbled up his pie in a couple rapid bites, thinking he needed some cool air for the fire was making him warm. He took a long drink of water from the canteen, fixed the cap, and set it down within Stephanie’s reach.
She was tilted forward nibbling on the mess of pie when a berry fell, landed on the shirtfront over her breast, and her gaze locked with his. “Oops. I’ll get the stain out.”
“It’s not important.”
She swiped her finger over the spot, catching the berry, pressing against her breast as she went. The sight was too delicious to watch.
“I’m going to check the horses.” He shot to his feet and strode away.
But miles and miles wouldn’t have been enough distance, he thought, still completely aware of Stephanie dabbing at the shirt. She’d let her guard down, and it was killing him.
Forever At Dawn: The Blood Keeper Series (The Blood Keeper Series, Novella Book 1) Page 6