This Fierce Splendor (41 page)

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” she asked softly.

“It won’t be wonderful for long.” Dominic crawled under the lean-to. “In about a minute the sky is going to split wide open and you’re going to be drowned if you stay out there.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Her gaze was on the darkening sky and she gave a little shiver of anticipation. “It makes me feel strange. I don’t know … powerful. Do you know what I mean?”

His expression softened as he looked at her glowing face, radiant in the dimness of the grove. “Yes, I know what you mean. Now, come in under the lean-to before you get wet.”

She sighed and then reluctantly crawled under the shelter to sit beside him, settling back against the saddlebags Dominic had propped against the tree. “It would almost be worth it.”

He shook his head. “You’d get chilled and we sure as the devil don’t want you ill again.”

“I won’t become ill. I’ve never felt more healthy in my life.” It was difficult to remember a time when she hadn’t felt this strong and well, and yet it had been only a month ago that she had been bedridden at the hotel in Hell’s Bluff.

The rain began to fall, at first sporadically, then in huge drops, and as Dominic had predicted, the heavens opened. Rain poured down with stunning force. She could hear it pounding the ocotillo roof, but surprisingly few drops managed to pierce the branches.

The fire Dominic had built was small, but they managed to prepare a meal of beans and hardtack. After they had finished, there seemed nothing to do but sit and watch the rain.

S
urrounded by the falling rain, gazing into the ever-changing brilliance of the leaping flames, was rather like being enclosed in a silver box holding a glowing ruby, Elspeth thought dreamily. It was not as exciting as the wildness that had preceded the storm but was still very satisfying.

“I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

Elspeth lifted her gaze from the fire to look at Dominic in surprise. “It’s not even dark yet. Why would—” She stopped. She suddenly became conscious of how very small was their silver box, only a few feet separated her from Dominic and she could sense every action of his body: The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the tension of his hand as it gripped the blanket, the slight hollow beneath the bones of his cheeks as his lips tightened. And his eyes …

Dominic jerked his gaze away. “What the hell else can we do?” He shifted restlessly. “The rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up. We may be stuck in here until morning.”

“I see.” The scent of rain, earth, and burning pine surrounded them together with the warm, clean male fragrance that belonged to Dominic. She wanted to breathe in that aroma, have it in her nostrils, in her body. The pagan thought sent a ripple of shocked awareness through her.

And that wasn’t all of him she wanted in her body,
she realized. She wanted to be joined to Dominic in that same searing fashion she had known once before. She wanted to look at him without all those cumbersome clothes. She wanted to touch him as he had asked her to touch him before. She moistened her lips with her tongue as she experienced a hot melting sensation between her thighs. Lust. Strangely, she felt no shame. She had an idea that with Dominic lust could be almost as beautiful as love.

“Well, then cover up and go to sleep.” Dominic didn’t look at her as he pulled off his boots and then took off his gunbelt.

“We could play cards,” Elspeth offered tentatively. “You could teach me that game you played at the Nugget.”

“Poker?” He crushed out the fire and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. “I don’t seem to have the concentration tonight.”

“I know piquet. Perhaps we could—”

“Elspeth, I do not want to play cards.”

She sighed. She didn’t want to play cards either, but she certainly didn’t want to go to sleep. If they played cards, she could have watched Dominic’s expressions, and perhaps he would smile his special smile that lit his face with warmth. She thought for a moment. “We can talk. Why does the ocotillo keep out the rain so well?”

He closed his eyes and turned his back to her. “I don’t want to talk.”

“You’re not being very sociable.”

“I don’t feel sociable.”

It was no use. She reluctantly scooted down and pulled the blanket around her. “You obviously don’t feel like being polite either.”

Polite? He would have laughed out loud if he hadn’t been hurting so much. The good Lord knew what he was experiencing had no resemblance to anything as civilized as the desire to be polite. Just don’t talk to me, he prayed silently. Don’t let me hear you move, don’t make me look at you.

Two hours later the rain was still falling and
Elspeth was still wide awake. Dominic’s breathing was deep and even, and he hadn’t moved for a good twenty minutes. At least one of them was able to sleep, she thought ruefully as she stared into the darkness. She turned over on her back and looked up at the ocotillo sticks overhead. Perhaps if she counted them, it would lull her.

One, two, three, four … When she reached twenty-five she turned onto her side, her gaze on the sticks above Dominic’s head. She forgot to count. She even forgot to breathe. One of the sticks was moving!

It was the last stick on Dominic’s side of the lean-to. She stared in helpless fascination as the stick slid forward and then wound itself around the support post.

A
snake
!

Dear God in heaven, a snake! Curling slowly around the post, bonelessly gliding around and down toward Dominic’s feet.

She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t utter a sound. No. Make it go away. Please make it go away. But the snake didn’t go away, it kept coming, gliding closer and closer to Dominic’s feet.

“
No!
” She wasn’t aware of the scream that had torn from her lips. She reached for the stick with which Dominic had stoked the flames of their small fire. She rolled out onto the rain-soaked earth and jumped to her feet.

“No!” She swung the stick and struck the snake on the support.

“No!” She swung the stick again.

“Elspeth, what the devil?”

She struck the snake again. “No!”

The support gave way and the ocotillo roof collapsed, landing on top of Dominic. She heard him cursing but paid no attention. The snake had fallen to the ground and she was hitting it again and again and again.

“Elspeth, for God’s sake.…” Dominic had managed to crawl from the wreckage and was beside her,
trying to take the stick away from her. “Elspeth, stop it.”

“It’s a snake.” She jerked her arm away from him. “Don’t you understand? It’s a snake.”

“It
was
a snake,” Dominic said. “It’s dead now. Stop hitting it, Elspeth.”

“No, it will come back. I have to …”

“God!” He tore the stick away from her hand and threw it aside. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Listen to me. It won’t come back. It’s dead, Elspeth, you killed it.” Rain was running down his face, plastering his dark curls to his head. “Everything is all right now, Elspeth.”

“No, the snake …”

Dominic stepped back, releasing her. “I’ll get rid of the snake. Stay here, don’t move.”

He was bending and picking up something. He had that horror in his hands!

“Don’t do it! You’ll—”

“Hush, Elspeth.” His voice was soothing. “It won’t hurt me.” Then he was striding off into the darkness. He was back almost immediately. “There. It’s gone. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The snake couldn’t hurt Dominic. A harsh sob broke from her throat. It hurt. She hurt. She fell to her knees on the muddy ground, hugging herself, barely conscious of the rain driving ceaselessly against her body.

“Elspeth, no …” Dominic was kneeling in front of her. He sounded as if he were hurting, too, she thought numbly. She wanted to help him, but she couldn’t seem to move. “Elspeth, love, don’t do this to me. God, don’t
cry
!”

She couldn’t seem to stop. The sobs kept coming, hurting.

Dominic’s hands were cradling her face and he was looking down into her eyes. “Why didn’t you just call me? You didn’t have to do it yourself.”

She shook her head. “I had to do it myself. Daddy said I mustn’t be afraid. I mustn’t be a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, you’re very brave.” Dominic’s voice was urgent. “You have to believe that.” His
fingers gently brushed back a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “Why did your father say you were a coward?”

“The cobra. I didn’t drink my milk that night and a cobra crawled through the window of my room.” The words were tumbling out. “I woke up and it was on the table beside my bed, where I’d left the milk. Milk attracts snakes, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“I screamed and screamed. My father was working in another room and came in to see what was wrong. He sent one of the boys to kill it. He was very angry with me. He had warned me about leaving my milk, but I forgot. I forgot. I didn’t
mean
to do it.”

“I know you didn’t.” Her cheek was suddenly against his breast. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the damp material of his shirt. His fingers tangled in her wet hair as he rocked her. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t want him to leave me. I was so afraid. He said I was a coward to be so frightened. He said—”

“I don’t want to hear what he said,” Dominic interrupted harshly. “It was all lies spoken by a cruel little bastard who deserved to be drawn and quartered.” His arms tightened around her. “Do you hear me? It doesn’t matter what he said. None of it was true. You would have been stupid not to have been afraid. You’re a very brave woman.”

“Not as brave as Silver.” Her words were muffled in his shirt.

“Yes.” His chin was nuzzling back and forth across the top of her head. “Just as brave. It takes a different kind of courage to face up to what we fear the most. You did that tonight. You went after that snake like a little tiger.”

“I’m not a coward?” she whispered.

“No.” His voice was choked. “God, no.”

Relief was sweeping over her. Dominic said she had no reason to be ashamed. She was not a coward. No matter how many times she had defended herself to her father, she knew now she had never really been
sure he wasn’t right. She had desperately needed someone to say these words. The sobs lessened and then faded into tiny hiccoughs. “Thank you.”

“For telling the truth?”

“For making me believe it was the truth.”

He pushed her away from him to look down into her face. “Are you all right now?”

She nodded and then promptly gave another hiccough to belie the affirmation. She gave a husky laugh. “You’re wet. I’m sorry that I seem to have destroyed your splendid lean-to.”

“I’ve been wet before.” His hands cupped her cheeks caressingly. “And you’re not only wet, you’re muddy.”

“I rolled out of the lean-to into the mud.” She hoped he wouldn’t take his hands away, they felt so warm and loving. She wanted to turn her lips to touch his palm. “What do we do now?”

“We get you clean and dry. Lord knows how.” His hands dropped away from her cheeks. Emptiness. Loneliness.

She suddenly chuckled as she turned to see the destruction she had wrought. The lean-to was now only a large heap of sticks.

“You find our situation amusing?” Dominic asked.

“I’m sorry. I was just regretting that I was too busy killing that horrible reptile to see your expression when the lean-to fell around your ears. You must have looked like Samson after he had destroyed the temple.”

“The comparison isn’t quite accurate.” Dominic began to shift the ocotillo into some semblance of an orderly pile. “Though in both cases it was a woman who caused the destruction.”

“Should you be doing that? What if that snake had brothers or sisters?”

“After that crash and screaming, there won’t be a snake within five miles of here.”

“What can I do?”

“Find a way to get dry.” He had finally uncovered the saddlebags from beneath the rubble. “Do you have anything in your saddlebags that might help?”

“I don’t think so. You told me not to bring anything that wasn’t necessary and—” She stopped. “There’s my plaid.”

“Your plaid?”

“My family tartan.” She knelt beside her saddlebag and unfastened the thong. “The MacGregor plaid.”

“And you regarded this tartan as necessary?”

She didn’t look up as she rummaged in the saddlebag. “Surely you must see I couldn’t leave my plaid?”

Dominic watched her kneeling in the rain, muddied, soaked to the skin, her expression solemn. The tenderness he felt was almost unbearable. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Ah, here it is.” She drew out the folded red and black plaid and stood up. “I’ll go see if I can get rid of this mud.”

“And I’ll see if I can rebuild the lean-to. Will you need the lantern?”

She shivered as she had a vision of a multitude of writhing snakes waiting in the darkness. But Dominic had said there would be no snakes, and he needed the lantern more than she did. “No.” She turned away and walked down the incline toward the trees where she had tethered the animals.

The simplest way to remove the mud was to shed her clothes, take down her hair, and stand in the rain, letting the water cleanse her. It was a strangely sensual experience, standing naked in the forest as some primitive ancestress might have done.