Silver Nights With You (Love in the Sierras Book 1) (16 page)

“Lila,” he whispered, and her eyes opened to lock with his. “I won’t kiss you again unless you choose me.”

All sound and movement stopped. The hammering of her heart stood still. The candle flame ceased its restless dance. The only shred of human existence was Morgan’s eyes, full of deep emotions directed at her. Her lungs seized between her ribs, and her skin crawled with excitement. She chewed on the inside of her cheek battling between wanting to grin like a fool and cry the flood of Noah. She could feel her body pulling toward his, a desperate shoving from some place deep inside the way gravity pushes a body back toward the water as it’s trying to withdraw from it.

"Then kiss me again," she said softly.

His eyes widened with surprise and then gazed into hers, as though trying to determine her certainty. She reassured him by closing the gap between their mouths. All hurt and anger between them vanished at the gentleness of Morgan’s touch, the sincerity of his words, the plea in his eyes, the desire in his body, and she finally realized that she felt the same.

She had seen the goodness in him a hundred ways since they met, in the way he cared for his brother, in the way he looked out for her, in his humility and in the pride he held in everything he touched. The deep, roiling response she had to him finally had a name. Her heart filled with love so forcefully that she felt it in her blood. There was no guilt, no shame, only a toppling sense of completeness.

The sweetness of their kiss quickly flamed into a fiery passion, a fulfillment of their hearts and weeks of torment. She threw her arms around his neck, practically plastering him against the rock wall, but he swiveled so that their positions were reversed. Tiny flecks of silver glinted around them in the candlelight.

His fingers spread along her waist, stroking her belly with his thumbs as he forced her mouth open and sent his tongue exploring inside. She opened her mouth wider and Morgan took advantage. Her senses were spinning out of control, and her blood was on fire, that same heat driving up into her breasts in a tingling ache. His thumbs drew small circles on the sides of her navel and she shivered all the way from each fingertip to the sensitive symbol of her sex. As she felt a delicate throb pressing downward his thumbs traveled up and over her ribcage, sending a pleasing reminder that she had foregone her corset since she’d started helping Ellie.

The stroking movements of his tongue stole her breath and every childish notion she’d ever held about this most intimate touch. This was a part of kissing she never knew existed, a part that made her body want to slither against his. It felt womanly and stimulating and deliciously sinful. She no longer cared about discouraging him or deflecting his attention. She welcomed it in its entirety, her body clinging eagerly to his to learn more, to feel more of whatever he offered.

Her hands shot up into his hair, moving over the damp sweat of his scalp, and she pulled him closer. He went willingly, eagerly, pressing himself against her while his open palms moved around to cup her behind. There was possession in his grip, in the way he ground her hips against the bulge in his pants, and the thrill of desire pulsed through her.

Val cleared his throat several times behind them, and Morgan tore his mouth from hers. They were breathing so hard she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her breasts. His lips glistened with moisture while his eyes glazed with wanting. He pushed off of the wall until there was a safe distance between them and motioned toward his brother.

“Nice timing, Val,” he scoffed.

Val shrugged. "How was I to know you two would kiss and makeup, or rather makeup and kiss?"

Lila covered her face with her palms as she blushed and laughed.

"Could you give us another minute, please?" she heard Morgan say.

"Sure."

When she moved her hands, Val was gone and Morgan cupped her face to kiss her softly.

"I'm sorry I went with David, and that I didn't talk to you the moment you walked through that door," she told him.

"And I'm sorry for assuming the worst."

Her brow wrinkled. "But where did you disappear to all day and night?"

His mouth curled into a soft smile. "I went to get your bag from the desert."

She gasped. “You went looking for my bag? Did you find it?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod.

Her heart fluttered and her hands flew to her mouth. She swallowed hard. “Did…did you look inside?” she asked, too afraid to hope.

“No, I did not,” he answered calmly. “I thought you should do the honors."

She filled with a burning curiosity as she folded her hands, prayer-like, beneath her chin. Tears welled in her eyes and she threw her arms around Morgan, squeezing him tightly before she cupped his face in her hands and placed a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he only managed a nod.

She jumped from his arms and headed toward the tunnel, stopping to turn and address him. "Where is it?"

He chuckled. "It's in the stables with my belongings."

She started to leave again, but ran back to kiss him one last time.

"Send Val back down here will you," he murmured against her lips before sending her on her way with a gentle spank to her behind.

Val returned with a knowing smirk on his lips, but Morgan didn't care. Nothing could ruin his good mood. He would take any amount of teasing or ridicule from anyone. He was the happiest he'd ever been, and even more anxious to start his life in the valley with Lila.

“I tell you, Val, I will not be sorry to see the back end of this mine,” he tossed.

“Well, your days here are numbered, so you needn’t worry about that.”

“If we get through another twenty feet of this ore that ought to be enough to keep the miller busy for a few days so you can come help me with the cattle.”

“Reckon so,” Val replied then squinted through the darkness at the wall in front of him. “What the hell?” He reached a hand up and touched the rock.

“What is it?”

“It’s wet.”

Morgan grabbed the candle and held it up to the wall. Thin rivulets snaked down in front of them, intersecting and connecting like a giant web. Val stuck his pike into the source of the flow and lightly tapped on the end with the hammerhead. An angry spray gushed from the spot and Val jumped back with a yelp.

“What?” Morgan called, pulling his brother out of the way.

“It’s scalding hot.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, it just got my arm is all.”

“Look at that!” Morgan said, pointing at the ground around them.

Dozens of rats appeared out of the tunnels adjacent to theirs and scurried up the slope toward the exit, their tinny nails clacking against the stone floor in a series of scrapes as they scrambled chaotically. Val and Morgan exchanged a look but before they could speak, the world around them trembled. It was a slight shiver, and then an eerie stillness. Their eyes traveled the length of the rock ceiling as they listened to the muffled groan of the earth. Other mine shafts ran parallel to theirs and they could hear muted commotions and raucous voices. They stood still and silent, waiting for the mountain to show them its next move. Morgan felt a sinking dread in his belly and he stared at Val.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and Val nodded.

They took off at a run, Val in the lead and Morgan following, just as the ground quaked again. The earth jumped and dodged beneath them, the roar of cracking and splintering rock erupting all around. Morgan felt the rain of dust and pebbles falling on his head and feared that they may have started out too late. His legs pumped faster. His lungs pulled at the already hot air. As larger bits of rock cut slashes and grooves into his head and neck his shouts echoed off of the crumbling walls.

“Run, Val! Run!”

Lila was halfway up the porch steps when she heard David calling her name. He was ambling down the road, nearing the boarding house. He still wore his dress clothes from the night before and had a box tucked beneath his arm. She turned away, determined to ignore him. He called her name again, and she stopped with a loud sigh. It wasn't in her to be so rude, especially because what happened between her and David didn't matter anymore. She had Morgan, and that was all she needed.

"Good afternoon, David," she said with a grim smile.

“I must admit I didn’t expect to find you so welcoming.” He kissed the back of her hand, and she gently pulled it from his grasp. He cleared his throat nervously. “Not that I would blame you. I behaved horribly, but I brought you something to make up for it.”

He handed her the box. She lifted the lid and found a hat made of velvet with decorative beading, netting and dyed plumes. The very sight of it stoked her anger. She wanted to throw it at his head. Instead, her smile faded, and she peered into his eyes. He knew her disappointment, and his happy demeanor fell.

"You don't like it?" he asked, crestfallen.

"Why did you buy me this, David?"

"Because I thought it would look lovely on you and that you would enjoy it."

"You thought you could buy your way back into my good graces after what you did to me last night?"

His shoulders dropped, and he sighed in resignation. Before he could respond, a deep rumble rolled off the mountain and they turned. It sounded like a harsh clap of thunder, only coming from the ground and not the sky. Flocks of birds filled the air, crowing and cawing as they sped off in erratic flight away from the mountain. She felt a slight tremble in the wooden boards beneath her, and then everything went silent. Even the breeze died. She held her breath, her instincts warning of a coming danger. Argyle emerged from the house behind her, staring acutely out into the sky.

“Did you hear that?” he asked her.

She nodded. “What was it?”

“I don’t know, but it didn’t sound good.”

Just then, clouds of dust burst from the openings of the mines, shooting great brown plumes high into the air as if the mountain had expelled an explosive cough from its lungs. Lila’s hands reached up to cover her mouth as she gasped. Patrons flooded the streets from every structure.

“Cave in!” people shouted as they ran toward the wooden scaffolding. Several miners were already starting to emerge from the dust and even from her distance she could see streaks of bright, red blood running down their faces. Her panicked eyes shot to her father’s.

“I’ll get my bag!" he shouted, running back into the house.

Lila raced toward the scene. David was beside her, lengthening his stride to run ahead. She was already ripping fabric from her sleeves for bandages by the time she made it to the end of the catwalk. Miners were being ushered down onto the street, their eyes lolling in a daze as they stumbled. Some were too badly injured to walk and had to be carried by two or three men. Lila pumped buckets of water from a well and ripped her skirts to make more bandages. Other women from the town, Ellie included, were doing the same. She saw to each person she could, tying off bloody wounds and washing bloody faces until her father was by her side.

“Lila!” he shouted over cries of pain and panic. “I need you to separate people out. I want the most severely wounded on this side of the street. Those who can walk and wait to be looked at need to move to the other side. Go, now!”

She nodded and ran to the edge of the scaffolding, directing people. Each face she passed was covered with dirt or blood, but she peered into their eyes, looking for a pair of soft, light brown ones. David had carried several men down, depositing them onto the ground before running back up for more.

“Have you seen the Kellys?” she asked. He shook his head and disappeared back up the steps.

“Lila!” Argyle called, and she ran to her father. “I need you to hold his head back like this. I can’t get to the artery while he’s thrashing around.”

The man had a gash as long as her forearm across the side of his neck and blood was pumping liberally from it. Lila held his head back against her breast as instructed. Gurgles and hisses spilled from both the wound and his lips as her father dug his fingers and instruments into the side of his neck. She could feel the warmth of the man’s blood running onto her lap and soaking through her skirts. Within moments, Argyle pulled his hands free with a frustrated grunt.

“Lay him down, lass,” he said softly. “I can’t save him.” She looked down at the man’s face as she laid him down. His eyes were dull but actively roved the area.

“But he’s still alive,” she protested in a whisper.

Argyle rested a bloody hand on her shoulder and shook his head. “He won’t be in a minute or two. There are others we can save. We can’t save him.” She felt tears spring to her eyes at the same instant her father gently squeezed her shoulder. “Pull yourself together now. I need your help.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, letting the tears fall as she followed her father to the next man in the row. The minutes seemed to race by as they moved from one set of wounds to the next. Two more men died under their trying hands. The injuries ranged from scratches and gashes to punctures and burns. One man had been so severely burned that he hadn’t survived being carried out. Every so often she glanced back up the scaffolding, waiting to see anything of Val or Morgan. After a full hour of searching, she was finally rewarded.

Struggling down the scaffold with a body slung across his arms was Morgan. His face was bloody, but she would know his form anywhere. Her heart soared only to sink when she saw that he carried Val. She reached out to grab her father’s arm. When he looked at her she pointed at Morgan, who was just setting foot on the ground. Argyle and Lila ran to him, the former searching and prodding the gaping wound in the side of Val’s forehead.

“Can you help him?” Morgan asked, his voice so strained that Lila nearly cried again.

“I think so,” Argyle said. “Set him down.”

Morgan fell to his knees and gently laid his brother’s body on a patch of grass. He hovered so closely that Lila had to ease him back with a soft touch of her palm to his bicep. He looked into her eyes, worry and fear pulsing through his gaze, and she nodded reassuringly.

“We’ll take care of him, but we need room.”

He nodded and eased back a bit. She crouched beside Val, ripping more of her skirt and filling it with water to wipe away the blood for Argyle. According to the doctor, it was curable and required little more than stitching. Once the announcement was made, everyone in the vicinity relaxed. Lila turned a happy smile onto Morgan who only slumped forward with a sigh.

She threw her arms around him in a hug and felt her forearms and hands sink into wet, spongy flesh at the back of his head and the base of his neck. Her eyes widened as she lifted her arms up to find them covered in Morgan’s blood. Just then, his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell forward, right into her arms.

He was on his stomach, the fresh-smelling pillow softly propping his head. One arm was folded above the pillow. The other dangled over the side of the bed. His head felt hot and heavy, his tongue like a thick strip of leather, but his back and neck were cold and soothed. The song of a female voice humming softly beside him made his eyes open.

A woman knelt beside his bed, her skirt a dark blue. He could feel her hands daintily laying strips of something wet across his neck and upper back. On the ground beside her was a bowl filled with more strips soaked in a dark yellow poultice. She sat back on her heels to reach for another strip and he saw the long swish of her light brown hair touch the floor, its soft waves curving randomly down her back, and he knew it was Lila.

“Val?” he tried to ask, but his voice came out in croaking babble. Her face shot to his.

“You’re awake,” she said softly, relief flooding her face. “How do you feel?”

He cleared his throat. “Val?”

“He’s fine,” she said with a reassuring smile. She leaned back and pointed to the bed across the room. Val was lying on his side facing them. His head was wrapped in bandaging and his mouth was wide open as he slept easily. They were in their old room. “He’s woken several times, eaten a few hearty meals and downed half a bottle of whiskey to dull the headache.” She pulled a strip of linen from the bowl and gave Morgan a teasing look. “I think he’ll regret that particular cure when he wakes up, though.”

She moved to place the strip on his back, but his hand shot out and clasped around her forearm. Her smile faded at the haunted look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You and your father.”

Reaching out to grab hold of her was too much for his feeble strength, and his hand dropped in sheer exhaustion. Lila touched a hand to his cheek, coarse with stubble. She leaned down, almost until her forehead touched his.

“You saved your brother,” she whispered. “Not us.”

His eyelids fell heavily, and he was soon asleep again.