The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 5 (49 page)

Seduction. A soft kiss and sure hands. Easy, easy movements in golden light and velvet shadows. Quiet words whispered against her skin.

Surrender. Her body pliant against his. Her lips yielding to a gentle, patient assault. A long, long sigh of pleasure.

They lowered to the floor, kneeling, wrapped close.

Swayed there.

He drew her shirt away, then brought her hands to his lips, pressed them to her palms. Everything, he thought, she held everything he was in her hands. How could she not know?

Then he laid her palm on his heart, looked into her eyes. “It’s yours. When you’re ready to take it, to take me for what I am, it’s yours.”

He pulled her close so her hands were caught between them, and this time his mouth wasn’t gentle, wasn’t patient.

Need leaped inside her, alive and fierce, while his heart kicked its wild beat against her palms. He tugged her jeans open, and drove her roughly up and up, drove her higher even when she cried out.

When she went limp, when it seemed she melted to the floor, he covered her with his body. Took more.

His hands and mouth stripped her, left her raw and open, weak and dazzled. Her breath sobbed out, caught on a fresh cry when he thrust into her. He gripped her hands, held tight as her fingers curled with his.

“Look at me. Look at me. Lil.”

She opened her eyes, saw his face washed in the reds and golds of firelight. Fierce and feral as that heartbeat. He plunged inside her until her vision blurred, until the slap of flesh to flesh was like music.

Until she’d given him everything.

She didn’t object when he carried her upstairs. She didn’t protest when he lay down with her and drew her close, his arms wrapped tight around her.

When he kissed her again it was like the first in the dance. Soft, sweet, seductive.

She closed her eyes and let herself dream.

 

 

 

IN THE MORNING, she rolled out of bed as he came out of the bath, hair still dripping.

“I thought you might sleep longer,” he said.

“Can’t. Full day.”

“Yeah, me too. Some of your people should be here in about thirty minutes, right?”

“About. That’s assuming they all remember how to work the new gate.”

He crossed to her, skimmed a thumb down her cheek. “I can wait until some of them get here.”

“I think I can handle myself alone for a half hour.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Because you’re worried about me or because you’re hoping I’ll use the time to fix you breakfast.”

“Both.” Now that thumb traced the line of her jaw. “I picked up bacon and eggs since you were out.”

“Do you ever give a passing thought to cholesterol?”

“Not when I’ve got you talked into fixing me bacon and eggs.”

“All right. I’ll slap a couple biscuits together.”

“I’ll toss a couple steaks on the grill tonight. A trade-off.”

“Sure, eggs, bacon, red meat. Screw the arteries.”

He caught her hips, levered her up for a hard good-morning kiss. “So speaks the beef farmer’s daughter.”

She headed downstairs thinking it seemed almost normal, this talk of breakfast, of dinner plans, of full days. But it wasn’t normal. Nothing was quite within that safe, normal zone.

She didn’t need the scattered clothes on her living room floor to remind her.

She swept in there first, gathered them up to shove the whole armload into her laundry room.

Once the coffee got going she heated up a pan. Leaving the bacon sizzling, she opened the back door, stepped onto the porch to breathe in the morning air.

Dawn broke in the east, bringing the hills into soft silhouettes against the first light. Higher, higher still, the last stars were going out like candles.

She scented rain. Yes, she was a farmer’s daughter, she thought. The rain would bring more wildflowers out, unfurl more leaves, and let her think about buying some plants for the compound.

Normal things.

She watched the sunrise and wondered how long he would wait. How long would he watch and wait and dream of death?

She stepped back in, closed the door. At the stove she drained bacon and broke eggs in the pan.

Normal things.

25

Tansy wasn’t wearing the ring. Lil actually felt her spirits plummet; she’d been counting on some happy news. But when Tansy rushed over to where Lil and Baby were having their morning conversation, the ring finger of her left hand was bare.

Her eyes shining with distress, Tansy threw her arms around Lil and hugged hard.

Lil said, “Um.”

“I started to call you last night. I was so upset. But then I thought you had enough to do and didn’t need me adding to it.”

“Upset? Oh, Tans.” As the plummet became a dive, all Lil could do was return Tansy’s crushing hug. “I know you can only feel what you feel, and you have to follow those feelings, but I hate that it upset you.”

“Of course it upset me.” Tansy pulled back, gave Lil a little shake. “Upset isn’t even close to the mark when my best friend’s being threatened. We’re going to start screening your e-mail as of now. In fact, we screen all e-mails.”

“E-mails?”

“Honey, did you take drugs this morning?”

“What? No! E-mails. The
e-mail.
Sorry, I saw you just drive up, so I didn’t think you knew about it yet.”

“Then what the hell did you think I was talking about?”

“Ah . . .” Flustered, Lil managed a weak laugh. “Got me there. I’m a little turned-around yet this morning. How did you find out so fast?”

“Farley and I ran into the sheriff last night after you called him about it. He—Willy—knew you were concerned about your parents, and wanted Farley to know what was going on. He went right home.”

“
Farley
went right home?”

“Of course, Farley. Lil, maybe you should lie down awhile.”

He didn’t ask her, Lil realized as Tansy checked her brow for fever. Never had the chance to ask her. “No, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind, and I’m trying to stick to routine. I think it’ll help.”

“What did it say? No.” Tansy shook her head. “I’ll read it for myself. I should’ve told you right away everyone’s fine at your parents’. Farley called before I left this morning just to let me know.”

“I’ve talked to them, but thanks. It’s nice, you and Farley.”

“It’s weird, me and Farley. Nice and weird, I guess.” She watched as Lil picked up the bright blue ball and winged it high over the fence, into the enclosure. Baby and his companions screamed in happy competition as they gave chase. “They’re going to find him, Lil. They’ll find him soon, and this will be over.”

“I’m counting on it. Tansy, he mentioned Carolyn in the e-mail.”

“Oh.” Tansy’s dark eyes sheened. “Oh, God.”

“It sticks, right here, when I think about it.” Lil fisted a hand at her sternum. “So, routine.” She looked over to where Baby and his friends rolled and wrestled for the ball. “And comfort.”

“There’s always plenty of routine.”

“You know what I’d like, Tansy? You know what would bring that comfort?”

“A hot fudge sundae?”

“That’s a never-fail, but no. I’d like to be up there, hunting him down. I’d be comforted if I could be in the hills, tracking him.”

“No.”

“Can’t do it.” Lil shrugged, but her gaze stayed on the hills. “It would put others at risk. But it’s something else that sticks right here. That I have to wait, just wait while others go after the person responsible for all this.” She heaved out a breath. “I’m going around to check on Delilah and Boris.”

“Lil,” Tansy called after her. “You won’t do anything stupid?”

“Me? And risk losing my smart-girl status? No. Routine,” she repeated. “Just routine.”

 

 

 

HE HAD A PLAN, and it was sweet. He believed it had come to him in a trance vision, and convinced himself his great ancestor in the form of a cougar guided him. He’d claimed Crazy Horse as his own for so long that the connection had become truth to him. The longer he remained in the hills, the truer it became.

This plan would take care and precision, but he was not a careless hunter.

He knew his ground, had his stand. He would lay the trail. He would gather the bait.

And when the time was right, spring the trap.

He scouted first, considering and rejecting several sites before settling on the shallow cave. It would do for his purposes, for the short term. Its location worked well, a kind of crossroads for his two main points.

It would serve as a holding cage.

Satisfied, he took a snaking route back toward park territory until he could ease onto a popular trail. He wore one of the jackets he’d stolen along the way, along with a pair of aviator sunglasses and a Chance Wildlife Refuge cap. A nice touch, he thought. Those and the beard he’d grown wouldn’t fool any sharp-eyed cops for long, but it gave him a thrill to stay out in the open, to use good old Jim’s little Canon to take photos.

He moved among them, he thought, but they didn’t know him. He even made a point to talk to other hikers. Just another asshole, he thought, tromping around on sacred ground like he had a right.

Before he was done, everyone would know who he was, what he stood for. What he could do. He would be a legend.

He’d come to understand this was what he’d been born for. He’d never seen it prior to now, not clearly. No one had known his face, no one had known his name, not in all the years before. That, he realized, had to change for him to turn truly toward his destiny.

He could not, would not move on as he had in the past when he’d felt the hot breath of pursuit on the back of his neck, or feared—he could admit the fear now—capture. It was meant to be here, in these hills, on this land.

Live or die.

He was strong and wise and he was
right.
He believed he would live. He would win, and that victory would add his name to those who’d come before him.

Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Red Cloud.

Years before, before he had understood, he’d made sacrifice to this land. When the woman’s blood had spilled, by his hand, it had begun. It had not been an accident, as he’d believed. He understood now his hand had been guided. And the cougar, his spirit guide, had blessed that offering. Had accepted it.

She had defiled that sacrifice. Lillian Chance. She’d come to the place of his sacrifice,
his
holy ground, where he’d become a man, a warrior, by spilling the blood of the woman. She’d brought the government there, in the form of the police.

She’d betrayed him.

It all made sense now, it all came clear.

It must be her blood now.

He traveled with a small group, merged with them as a helicopter buzzed overhead. Looking for him, he thought, and felt the pride fill his chest. When the group chose one of the many crossings over a narrow creek, he waved them off.

It was time to slip away again.

If he fulfilled his destiny, the
government
would surely have to disclose to the public what they’d stolen. And perhaps one day, the true people would erect a statue of him on that very land, as they had to Crazy Horse.

For now, the hunt and the blood would be their own reward.

He moved quickly, covering the ground—the rises, the flats, the high grass, the shallow creeks. Even with his speed and skill, it took most of the day to lay the false trail west toward the Wyoming border, leaving behind signs he thought, derisively, the blind could follow. He sweetened it with Jim Tyler’s wallet before backtracking.

Once again he headed east through the pine-scented air.

Soon the moon would be full, and under that full moon, he would hunt.

 

 

 

LIL PERSONALLY PLANTED pansies in the bed across from Cleo’s enclosure. They’d handle the frosts that weren’t just likely but inevitable, and the spring snows that were more than probable for the next few weeks.

It felt good to get her hands in the dirt, and satisfying to see that splash of color. Since the jaguar watched her avidly, Lil crossed over to the path. “What do you think?”

Cleo appeared to have no particular bias against or liking for pansies. “If you’re still waiting for some Godiva, you’re doomed to disappointment.”

The cat pressed her flank against the fence, rubbed back and forth. Interpreting, Lil went under the barricade. She watched Cleo’s eyes as she approached, and watched them slit with pleasure when she stroked and scratched through the fencing.

“Miss that, don’t you? No chocolate or poodles, but we can give you a little personal attention now and then.”

“Doesn’t matter how often I see you do that, I’m never tempted to try it for myself.”

Lil glanced back to smile at Farley. “You pet horses.”

“A horse may kick the hell out of me, but it’s not going to rip my throat out.”

“She’s used to being touched, to being spoken to, to the scents and voices of people. It’s not just humans who need physical contact.”

“Tell that to Roy. Or Siegfried. Whichever one of them had that real contact with the tiger.”

“Mistakes cost.” She backed away, ducked under to join Farley. “Even a kitten will scratch and bite when it’s annoyed or bored. Nobody who deals with cats gets out without a few scars. Were you looking for Tansy?”

“I wanted to see you, too. I just wanted you to know I’ll be sticking close to home, so you don’t need to worry.”

“This screwed up your plans for last night.”

“I was hoping I could work things out for a picnic maybe. That’s romantic, right?”

“Meets the top ten requirements.”

“But spring’s a busy time around the farm and around here.”

“Go raid the pantry in my cabin. Use the picnic area over there.”