Patricia Potter (35 page)

She was still wearing Adrian’s shirt. Her dress and undergarments—pantalets, camisole, and petticoat—lay neatly folded near her.

Where had he gone? He wouldn’t have left her here alone, even if he had guessed, suspected, wondered, about her. She knew that as surely as she knew the sun would rise each day. She moved slowly, feeling the deep ache in her muscles from the ride yesterday and the new, intriguing soreness between her legs.

She groaned to herself. He would want to ride today. They would have to ride today! They couldn’t stay in this area. But, dear Lord, her legs and backside hurt.

Grimacing, she tore a piece from her petticoat and went down to the stream. She used the cloth to wash her face and hands, and then she put her legs in the stream, letting the water soothe the sore muscles. The day was already muggy and uncomfortable, and it would grow hotter. She loved the loose, free comfort of Adrian’s shirt and hated to think of exchanging it for her heavy dress.

Lauren took care of her other needs and then dressed. She felt hunger gnawing at her and realized she’d not eaten since yesterday morning. She checked the inside of her dress, where she’d sewed what funds she had, and felt the wad of bills. Perhaps they could buy some food.

Where was he?

She heard noise then, the rustling of underbrush, the soft clip-clop of hoofs on a forest floor. Almost instinctively she darted behind a large oak, her heart stilling. And then she heard a familiar chattering, and a small form hurtled in front of her.

“Socrates,” she greeted him.

“You finally woke up.” She looked up, and Adrian was sitting his horse before her. He was wearing a shirt now, a blue one, and he held some strange saddlebags. “Breakfast.”

Lauren tensed inside. He was wearing a Yankee shirt and carrying saddlebags with the letters U.S.A. on them.

“Where … ?”

“Several very careless Yanks,” he said. “But don’t worry. They’ll have aching heads. That’s all. I might even have saved their lives. They won’t be that sloppy again.”

There was a hard note in Adrian’s voice, and Lauren reminded herself not to underestimate him. His charm was so easy, his smile so charismatic, she sometimes forgot he’d served in the British Navy during the Crimean War, that he’d survived years in one of the hardest services in the world, that he’d outwitted the Union Navy for a year. Only occasionally did he allow that iron will to show, and then God help the person who stood in his way. She knew that, had known it ever since the night in Nassau when she’d seen him go after her attackers with ruthless efficiency.

Sometimes she forgot how complex he was, and it frightened her now, for she knew how quickly his gentleness could turn into controlled fury.

He dismounted and handed her some biscuits and cheese. “I have some coffee, but we’ll have to wait on that. I don’t dare risk a fire. This area is alive with Yanks.”

She ate silently, her eyes continually going to his face as he, too, ate rapidly and then saddled her horse with quick, experienced movements. When he took her hand to help her mount, he smiled wryly at her involuntary groan. “I’m sorry, love,” he said, “but we can’t stay around here. Those Yanks will wake shortly.”

He looked deep into her eyes. His lips brushed hers before he very easily lifted her up, his hand lingering mere seconds before turning toward his own horse.

“Socrates,” he said in a low voice. The monkey took his hand and allowed himself to be propelled up in the saddle. Adrian followed and then guided his horse over to Lauren’s, touching her hand. “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

His eyes fairly blazed with intensity as he studied her tense body. Then he smiled with approval, and she would have ridden through fire with him.

Willing spirit or not, Lauren’s body objected bitterly after several hours of riding. Avoiding all roads, they journeyed through the woods. Branches hit her dress, and scratched what skin wasn’t covered.

Her body ached. The heat made rivulets of perspiration flow on her neck and back and between her breasts. She had tried to brush her hair without a mirror and braid the long strands into a knot, but she felt them fall in damp clumps around her face. She knew a physical misery she’d never felt before.

Lauren kept her mind, however, on those wondrous hours last night, on the closeness of their bodies and the delicious sensations that had saturated her. Whenever she thought she must cry from pain, she looked to Adrian beside her, to the features now carved in her heart, and knew she couldn’t show weakness, couldn’t slow him.

Several times they heard hoofbeats not far away, and he would dismount and hold the horses’ heads down to keep them from replying to their own kind. And then he would mount again.

The day inched on, Lauren growing more and more miserable. They stopped briefly at streams for water, and ate hardtack and jerky at noontime, relying now on supplies from the stolen saddlebags. Socrates, however, happily munched on tree leaves whenever they stopped, and seemed to need nothing more.

Adrian was tireless. Though he looked at her often with sympathy, he didn’t suggest they stop. Lauren knew why. The times they stopped for water, she very nearly couldn’t get back in the saddle.

They went deeper and deeper into the woods, the world losing some of the brightness among the heavy foliage of the trees, and she wondered how Adrian knew the right direction. He never hesitated, only occasionally looking skyward to judge the position of the sun. He would sometimes leave her, giving Socrates over to her care and cautioning her to stay put. It always seemed hours before he returned, but she supposed it was much less. As she waited, she dismounted and massaged her aching limbs and muscles.

When he returned, she mounted again, feeling new stabs of agony streak through her body. She knew they were headed west to Virginia, but there were so many detours that she no longer had any sense of direction. The air grew clammy and tense, and the sky around them started to darken. Though it seemed she’d been riding for days, she knew it wasn’t yet time for nightfall.

Looking up through heavily laden trees, she watched the sky begin to boil. Dark, pregnant clouds roiled in the sky as a heavy shroud of humidity dropped on the earth. Mosquitoes descended in force, and a hot wind stirred the trees, making their movements ominous and threatening.

Lauren watched Adrian look skyward more and more often, his face growing grim.

“We have to find a place to stay,” he said reluctantly, and she knew how anxious he was to find Confederate forces. The Potomac River, and safety, couldn’t be far away.

She merely nodded. She knew that much of this area had been forsaken by civilians, caught as it was between two armies and subjected to constant raids and skirmishes.

“There’s an abandoned farm not far back. It’s partially burned but …”

Lauren nodded. The wind, which, had been blowing hard, was now still, and the air radiated with electricity, with a latent violence ready to explode, and both horses were acting skittish.

Lauren wondered whether Adrian would have gone back had she not been with him, but she also knew she was not a good enough rider to stay on a frightened horse. Heading for shelter was also dangerous, however. Others would also be looking for refuge.

She could only pray that they would reach safety quickly, for this was going to be no ordinary storm.

She didn’t know how long they backtracked before she saw a clearing. There were two small fields, both now overgrown with weeds. A shell of a barn and a small, dilapidated house stood together, part of the house leaning crazily. There were pockmarks everywhere, and Lauren realized that a battle had taken place here, leaving its footprints of violence. Parts of the roofs of both buildings were gone, charred edges showing where fire, or an explosion, once ate at the security a family thought it had. What was left looked utterly lonely and sad.

Adrian dismounted and approached her when the storm exploded, huge hailstones mixing with great fat drops of rain. In seconds, she was soaked. Adrian helped her down, catching her as she started to fall. “Go inside the house,” he ordered. “I’ll take care of the horses.”

Despite the pelting rain, she didn’t want to go. Not alone. There was something about the house …

“I’ll help,” she said, seizing the reins of her horse from him. Socrates ran nervously in circles, waiting to see where they were going. He was chattering in his scolding way.

The horses whinnied anxiously, pulling against the restraints, as Adrian yelled at her to follow him. He strained against the now strong wind, which had returned with a fury, and headed toward the remains of the barn. Like the house, part of it was missing, and of two doors, one was gone and the other hung precariously from a hinge. But at least it offered some shelter.

Inside, the roof was leaking and the stalls were missing, the wood probably taken for fuel. Wind and rain blew in through gaps in the roof as the horses stamped nervously. But at least they were out of the storm’s open fury. Adrian quickly unsaddled the two horses and tied the reins to a ring in what was once a stall. Then he went to the barn opening and looked out, while Socrates huddled in the driest corner of the building.

Lauren followed. The hail pounded on what was left of the roof, thudded on the interior of the unprotected part of the barn. The trees were blowing wildly and, though it was still midday, the overgrown fields were shrouded in dark as though night had descended. Soil and brush swept by in whirling clumps.

Her clothes were plastered to her body, and she saw that Adrian’s blue shirt was also molded to his chest, his trousers against the heavily muscled legs. She shivered, not knowing whether the tremors came from the rain or the sight of him standing in the doorway, every hard curve of his body outlined against the storm.

He turned, and his eyes fastened on her, sliding from her soaked hair down the length of her clinging dress. The blue in his eyes warmed to blue heat, like the hottest part of a flame.

He held out his arms, and she went into them, the storm and the wind heightening every physical sense. The smell of earth mixed with the scent of desire that clung to both of them. Heady and wild and savage … like the elements outside. The earth was closing in on them, cloaking them with a ferocity that invited more ferocity, that set every nerve end on edge.

Thunder roared, and lightning reached out in furious bright splendor, shaking the earth as it hit a nearby tree. Lauren felt as though the very essence of that electricity had snaked along the ground and reached her, burning its way up her legs, boiling in the soul of her. Her face lifted and she stared upward at Adrian. The same tumultuous excitement shone in his eyes, and his head leaned down until their lips met in an explosion as bright as the lightning striking earth.

His arms wrapped around her, fusing her body to his, and she felt his manhood reach out to her again, pulsing in need. Her breasts strained against her dress, yearning for his touch. Minutes ago, she had ached so much, and all she’d wanted was to lie down, but now her body was alive again, with sizzling fires dancing up and down her spine.

The clap of thunder roared again. Involuntarily she flinched at its nearness and pressed her head against Adrian’s chest. She heard his heartbeat, even through the clashing of the elements—the clamorous sound of the hail, the rustle of the rain, the howl of the wind.

She felt the hot warmth gather inside again, and now her body trembled with expectation, with wanting.

Lauren felt herself being picked up, so very easily, and carried to the driest part of the barn. Impatient but gentle hands stripped her garments from her and ran reverently down the sides of her body as she shivered with each magnetic touch. He leaned down and kissed her. Then his mouth moved to her breasts, his tongue teasing and leaving hot wakes in its path. She found herself shamelessly reaching for his buttons. His shirt first, so she could run her fingers against the fine symmetry of his chest, so her mouth could taste him, could lick the essence of him, could make him tremble as she did.

And then his trousers … slowly, her hands moved, and she watched spasms tear through his body as her hand freed his shaft, now full and rigid. He moaned, and the sound intermingled with a new roar of thunder as he rolled over and entered her. Then the storm outside was eclipsed by the one they now rode.

Ride
the lightning.
Somewhere deep in the back of her consciousness, a place not yet dulled by the sensations rocking her, Lauren remembered Adrian saying that. Now she knew what it meant to ride the lightning.

Dear God, how brilliant it was!

Adrian sat against the wall of the barn and watched Lauren sleep. It was still raining hard outside, but the thunder had passed on. He heard rumbling from far away, and knew they were no longer in the heart of the storm.

A small stream of light now filtered into the barn. He watched as it touched the gold in her hair. Her face looked so open, so vulnerable, so peaceful.

His hand touched a damp curl, and then followed the line of her cheek. He heard her sigh, a contented sigh, like a small child. Innocent.

He heard a sigh of his own, but it wasn’t nearly as peaceful.

Lauren Bradley was such a contradiction. He remembered the first time he had seen her, wrapped in a modest gown with those hazel eyes shooting sparks at him. He hadn’t understood why then—he still didn’t, entirely—but she never ceased to fascinate him, nor the passion buried beneath the very proper exterior.