Silver Miracles

First published in paperback by Loveswept, 1983.
Electronic Edition Copyright 2011 Fayrene Preston
www.FayrenePreston.com
Cover Design:
www.TammySeidickDesign.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording or any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author.

It was the last night in the month of September, just after midnight, and Trinity Ann Warrenton couldn’t sleep. She had tried, going to bed an hour earlier, but it had been no use. Tossing restlessly, she had only succeeded in rumpling the once-smooth sheets and twisting her long nightgown around her restive body.

The full moon beckoned her with its mysterious brilliance to come and play. The night seemed alive, and Trinity wanted to join it.

Stephanie had been asleep for hours and wouldn’t wake; and even if this night proved to be one of the unusual times when she did cry out, Trinity would be able to hear her.

After a futile attempt to lie still a few minutes longer, she gave up. She simply felt too awake, too full of life, to spend one more minute in bed.

She checked on her sleeping daughter and then silently let herself out the back door of the old farmhouse. Her bare feet ran nimbly over the well-traveled path, out of the yard that surrounded the house and across the field that sloped down toward the pool.

It was one of those enchanting nights when the moon shone as brightly as dim sunlight and there were no clouds to obscure the radiance that was bathing the northeast Texas countryside in bright silver light.

Trinity’s fine cotton nightgown flattened against her body as she ran, the wide ruffle around the hem skimming her ankles, the white of the sleeveless Victorian-styled gown, shining iridescent in the moonlight and countering her golden-brown skin.

Reaching the short pier built out over the small natural pool that covered about an acre of her land, she flung off her gown and walked to the edge. Feeling the warm night air caress her bare skin, she paused for a moment with her arms outstretched, absorbing the sights and sounds that ribboned seductively through the night.

Lightning bugs flashed, crickets chirped, somewhere out on the main road, a lone car passed, and in the distance, the call of a whippoorwill bounced off a hill, reaching out to a potential mate, who answered. Trinity was absolutely captivated with the luminous magic of the night.

Right before she arced gracefully into the pool, her clear green eyes caught a flash of silver in the woods opposite her, but she thought no more about it, as her firm body sliced into the water. The water was cool from the underground spring that fed the pool, and it swirled around her naked body in exquisite delight.

Trinity laughed out loud with sheer happiness. Her life, by her own choice, was one of hard work and responsibility, and she hardly ever took any time out for herself. This was a treat, and she was enjoying it thoroughly.

Swimming, floating, diving, she reveled in the feel of the water with an uninhibited joy. Splashing, just because it was fun and for this short period, she felt like a kid again, she once again laughed, hearing the happy sound soar across the night and mingle with the whispering pines that encircled one half of the pool.

Half an hour later, reluctantly deciding she had stayed long enough, she dipped her head in the water, causing her long hair to fall like liquid brown silk away from her face and down her back. She climbed up on the pier and stood still for a minute, letting the water sluice off her body, down around her high, full breasts, toward her long legs and onto the rough boards that fashioned the pier. Picking up her gown, it went over her head, sticking to her wet body everywhere it touched as it settled down around her ankles. It would soon dry.

It was then that she saw him. He was walking around the pool toward her, and Trinity watched him come, not one bit afraid. The man was a stranger, it was true, but there was nothing furtive about the way he was approaching.

Like a lean, hungry cat, he moved out of the moonlight toward her with an uncanny blending of power and grace. It was the oddest thing, but watching him, she could almost feel inside of her the way he moved.

Her breath quickened. It was a strange feeling. An out-of-the-ordinary feeling. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle it. But she walked off the pier and up onto the bank.

And waited.

For him.

As he got closer, she could see that he was probably in his mid-thirties. Tall, over six feet, with extraordinary silver-white hair, and he had a rifle slung across one arm.

There was a harsh intensity about him that suggested a certain violence, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was carrying a gun. Having been born and raised in East Texas, Trinity knew what a common occurrence it was to see a man with a rifle. No, it was more than that. It was something about this man in particular.

He was wearing a blue knit shirt and skin-tight jeans that explicitly outlined every masculine muscle and bulge. She knew now that his hair had been the flash of silver she had seen just before she entered the water, and the thought that he had seen her naked body as clearly as she was seeing him now sent a warm thrill skiddering along her spine.

He stopped a few feet away, saying nothing, just watching her with light-colored eyes that looked strangely cold and dead in the warm moonlight. It had been a long time since a man had touched her senses, but this stranger was doing it effortlessly without speaking a word.

Despite herself, she was fascinated.

It was she who broke the silence stretching between them. "If you’re going to shoot me, would you mind telling me the reason first?"

He laughed, a roughly unpleasant sound that grated across the soft midnight. "Of all the things you could have said, that was the last thing I expected."

"I think it’s a perfectly rational response to a stranger who walks out of my woods in the dead of the night carrying a high-powered rifle."

He smiled a smile that was not really a smile. "You’re not afraid, are you? I wonder why not."

Long before now, she supposed, it should have occurred to her to run back to the house, but it hadn’t. And she supposed the fact spoke volumes about the reaction she was having to him.

"I don’t frighten easily, Mr. . . ?"

"Chase," he supplied softly.

"Well, Mr. Chase, if you were planning to shoot me without talking it over first, you could have done so before now. That rifle has a long-range accuracy—besides, you would have to take the safety off before you shoot, and that would give me a few seconds to try to distract you or to talk you out of it."

His eyes made a slow exploration of her figure clearly imprinted against the dampness of the gown, but Trinity didn’t even attempt to pull the gown away from her wet body. It would have been no use, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how aware she was that a few minutes earlier he had seen much more of her than he was seeing now.

"As well as being beautiful, you are very observant," he commented caustically. "But you don’t have to worry. Killing you would be a crime." He reached out a hand and ran a long finger down her cheek with a touch that was sensual rather than tender. "Wouldn’t it?"

Trinity’s pulses raced with the astonishing electric contact, causing her reply to come out somewhat uneven. "Murder usually is."

"Oh, murder wouldn’t bother me," he assured her coldly. "But killing you would. Something as rare as you surely must be on the endangered species list."

"I’m no animal."

"There’s some animal in all of us," he said. "It’s just that we all have different thresholds in terms of situations and people that bring it out in us—but there is a threshold nonetheless." To this phenomenal statement, he added the question, "Mrs. . . ?"

"Warrenton. Trinity Ann Warrenton. And it’s Miss."

His wide, firm mouth, with its full lower lip, broke into a semblance of a smile, and she found herself thinking what a beautiful mouth he had. "Your name," he drawled, "is as improbable as the fact that I found someone like you swimming alone in a pool at midnight."

"It’s not so improbable when you consider it is my pool and you’re on my land."

Ignoring her pointed statement, he set the rifle on the ground beside him and stepped closer to her. "Well, Miss Trinity Ann Warrenton, where did you become so knowledgeable about guns?"

"It’s hard to grow up on an east Texas farm without knowing something about them." He wasn’t touching her, but the heat from his body was. Nevertheless, her answer was given with a poise that was innate to her, and her eyes never wavered from his. "My father made sure my sister and I knew how to handle them, but I’ve never been impressed with guns enough that I would walk around carrying one."

"I’m new to the area," he revealed by way of an explanation. "I didn’t know what I would encounter, so I came prepared." Again, he reached out—this time to a damp strand of her hair lying by her throat.

"Prepared for what?" she asked, trying to ignore his hand brushing the side of her neck as he twisted the curl around his finger. "Texas hasn’t had to defend her borders for a long time now. You must be an extremely wary man."

"Just cautious." He smiled. "I’ve found that if you have enough power, in whatever form, you can choose whose company you want to be in. I’m particular and I believe in stacking the odds in my favor."

The moonlight was casting shadows on the sharp angles of his face, and Trinity thought that she had never seen a harder, colder man. Still, there was something about him that caused her to want to step closer to him, instead of away from him, which she knew she probably should.

She didn’t do either. "Carrying a high powered rifle like that one is definite overkill in these woods. That gun would kill a bear, and there are no bears around here. We do have a mixed breed of coyote and wolf, but I don’t have enough cattle on my land to attract them, and they pretty much stay away. Mostly you won’t find anything more dangerous than the occasional armadillo or possum."

"I found you, didn’t I?" His voice was low and deep and reminded her of a knife that had been temporarily encased in velvet.

"I’m not dangerous unless I’m threatened, Mr. Chase."

"Chase is my first name," he corrected her softly. "Colfax is my last. Chase Colfax."

He looked at her expectantly for a moment, evidently waiting for a reaction, but when he got none, he continued with a sardonic twist to his mouth, "And let me see what I can do about your not feeling threatened."

Before she could guess his intentions, he stepped even closer to her, reaching out to her hair and twisting it into a long, wet rope, using it for leverage to pull her head back with a firm tug, as though he expected resistance. His other hand went around her back, pulling her tightly to him so that her soft breasts were crushed against his hard chest.

The kiss, when it came, was such a surprise. Trinity forgot that her first impulse had been to fight. It was feather-light, totally at odds with his violent expression.

At first, his lips just grazed and teased, experimenting and tasting, causing pleasant sparks of warmth to radiate out to the farthest parts of her body. But when his tongue snaked out, wending its way into her mouth to seek and find her own tongue, it ignited the sparks into a full-fledged blaze, shocking Trinity into a passionate response that she could not comprehend or stop to analyze. She only knew she was melting inside, loving the feeling and not wanting it to stop.

He was the one who eventually broke off the kiss, stepping back, breathing deeply and viewing her with a peculiar expression on his hard face.

"Mr. Chase," Trinity gasped, "or—or Mr. Colfax . . . or whatever the hell your name is, what are you doing in my woods?"

For the first time, his laughter was full and genuine. "Oh, Trinity. Don’t you know that was the second thing you should have asked, right after you found out that I wasn’t going to shoot you? I am trespassing, you know."

Trinity could not be assuaged by his sudden good humor, when her body was still vibrating from his kiss. "I’m still waiting for your answer."

"We’re neighbors," he told her with what she felt was a deceptive indulgence. "I just bought the place adjoining yours." He pointed in the direction of her woods.

Somewhat diverted, she said, "The Karnes place? I didn’t even know it was for sale."

"It wasn’t until I made them an offer."

She tilted her head to one side and observed him with curiosity. "You said that with a certain amount of cynicism."

"I find that most things I want have a price." His face registered a hard contempt. "I usually buy up land wherever I am involved in a project. It’s more convenient and private than staying at a local hotel, and the Karnes place, as you call it, is making excellent temporary headquarters."