Warrior's Embrace (14 page)

“Don’t worry. Callie knows this place.” He
pulled Virginia into his arms. “I’m the only person who needs to
reach you, Virginia.”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “Reach me,
Bolton.”

He tethered the two paints they were riding,
then took a blanket in bright shades of red and blue and yellow
from his pack.

“In the customs of my people, when a warrior
covers a maiden with his blanket, she becomes his.” He spread his
blanket around Virginia’s shoulders, then drew her close once
more.

Virginia’s knees went weak with desire. She’d
never met a man who could do that to her. One look from Bolton and
she melted. Would it be like that ten years from now? Fifteen?
Twenty?

The wind sang through the pines, wiping out
everything in her mind except its wild and tender music.

“Is that all?” she whispered.

“There’s more.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll show you.”

He spread the blanket on the ground, and
there on the mountain with the sun bathing them in a glow that
looked like fire, they became creatures of the earth, primitive and
wild.

Time and place were lost to Virginia. For her
there was nothing except sensation... the texture of him, the clean
smell, the sharp, sweet taste.

The ancient words poured from him, part
poetry, part passion, and they became lost in time.

Their journey lasted far into the night. And
when it was over, Bolton wrapped her in his blanket and carried her
inside the tepee.

Virginia was instantly asleep. When she woke
up, Bolton was sitting cross-legged on the blanket watching
her.

“Did you sleep well, Virginia?”

“I didn’t move.” She arched herself in a
long, luxurious stretch. “It must be the mountain air. I need to
bottle it and take it back home.”

“Could it be more than the mountain air,
Virginia?”

His voice was full of laughter, and she
laughed with him.

Yes, it was more than the mountain air. The
peace she felt, the contentment, the absolute rightness of the
thing, was due to Bolton.

“How would you like to catch your breakfast?”
he said.

“Catch my breakfast?”

“Fish, Virginia.”

She clapped her hands. “I haven’t been
fishing in... well, too long to remember.”

The stream was crystal clear, and they spent
all morning laughing and angling.

“Are you sure these fish know they’re
supposed to be breakfast?” she said.

“Maybe they misunderstood,” he said. “Maybe
they thought I said lunch.”

“Or dinner.”

“Where’s your faith?”

“Not in my fishing pole, that’s for sure.”
Virginia held up a pole with a line so tangled that only the most
determined fish could be snared.

Bolton untangled her line, then showed her
how to cast, and on the first try she got a strike. With his help
she reeled it in.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It’s breakfast,” he said. “We’ll clean it
and smoke it over a fire.” He pulled a lethal-looking knife from
his belt.

“You’re going to use that on my fish?” She
looked stricken.

“You like fish, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’ve never killed the poor thing
first.” She rubbed the shiny scales. “Poor Ernestine.”

“Ernestine?”

“Yes. Her name is Ernestine, and she probably
has a family down there somewhere.”

Bolton unsnagged the fish then held it under
the water and released it.

“There you go, Ernestine,” he said. “Swim
back to your family.”

With a swish of its tail, Ernestine was gone.
If there had ever been any doubt in Virginia’s mind that she loved
Bolton, it was gone.

When he stood up and saw her tears, he
tenderly wiped them away.

“Don’t cry. She’s going to be all right.”

“I’m not crying for her, I’m crying because
that was one of the sweetest, kindest acts I’ve ever seen. You
really are the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, Bolton Gray
Wolf.”

If it wasn’t the three words he wanted to
hear, it was close enough. Joy filled Bolton, and a sense of coming
down the homestretch with the finish line in sight.

“You’re just saying that because I’m going to
share my breakfast bar with you.” He pulled one out of his pocket
and broke it in half.

“You had this all along?”

“Yes. I’m always prepared.” He unfolded a
blanket from his pack and spread it near the stream. “The orchestra
is tuning up, and we have the best seats in the house.”

With the music of birds and the music of the
stream playing haunting melodies, they shared breakfast and then
themselves. Afterward Virginia lay with her head on his chest
looking up at the branches swaying overhead.

“I could get used to this.”

“It’s yours, Virginia. All you have to do is
say yes.”

She rolled to her elbows so she could see his
eyes.

“Please be patient with me, Bolton. I’m out
of practice at this business of listening to my heart.”

“Take all the time you need, Virginia. These
mountains aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I.”

They lolled beside the stream until hunger
drove them back to their campsite, and in the light of a sunset so
perfect, Virginia said it had to be a creation of Walt Disney, they
ate canned beans then made slow, exquisite love on Bolton’s blanket
of many colors.

When she fell asleep, Virginia knew that she
would be a fool to continue denying that what they had was true
love. Tomorrow she would say yes.

o0o

The sound of pounding hooves woke Bolton. He
eased out of the blanket, careful not to wake Virginia, and slipped
into his buckskins. Through the flap of his tepee he could see his
sister’s horse topping the rise. Cold fear gripped him. Callie
would never have interrupted his idyll with Virginia unless there
was an emergency.

Bolton caught the reins as she slid from the
saddle.

“What’s wrong, Callie?”

“I don’t know.” She raked her hand through
her windswept hair. “Mom, Dad, everybody’s okay. It’s not our
family.”

“Virginia’s daughter?” He gripped his
sister’s arm. “Not Virginia’s daughter.”

“No, she’s all right. She called early this
morning.” Callie reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of
paper. “But she gave me this number. She said it was very important
that Virginia call.”

“Did she say what it’s about?”

“No. She didn’t give me a clue. I’m not even
sure that she knows.”

“How did she sound? Upset? Scared?”

“No. That was the strange thing. She just
said that it was very important for Virginia to call as soon as
possible.”

The tent flap opened, and Virginia stepped
outside.

“Did I hear my name?”

“Virginia.” Bolton wrapped his arm around her
waist. “I want you to meet my sister Callie.”

Virginia looked into eyes as blue as
Bolton’s, at a face with the same high cheekbones and generous
mouth, hair equally as untamed and black as a raven’s wing.
Bolton’s counterpart in every way, Callie Gray Wolf simply took
Virginia’s breath away.

“I’m speechless,” she said.

Callie laughed. “Most people are. They don’t
expect two peas in a pod.” She laughed again. “That’s my
Mississippi heritage coming through.”

“I’m delighted to meet you.” Virginia held
out her hand.

Callie took it in a warm and firm grip. “Same
here. You’re everything Bolton said you were.”

“I’m afraid Callie came bearing news,” Bolton
said, handing Virginia the piece of paper. “Candace says it’s
important for you to call that number as soon as possible.”

Virginia looked at the paper, and her brow
knit in a small frown.

“I don’t have any earthly idea whose number
this is.”

“I’ll ride with you back to the house,”
Bolton said.

“No.” Virginia said. “I don’t want to take
you away from this beautiful place. Why don’t I ride back down with
Callie?”

“You need me to show you the way back,” he
said.

“I’m no hothouse flower, Bolton. Once I ride
a trail, I can follow it again in the dark. Besides, it might be
nice if Callie comes back for lunch.” She smiled at Bolton’s
sister. “You like beans in a can, don’t you?”

“Is that all he’s giving you?” Callie blurted
out, then blushed at her own question.

Virginia and Bolton smiled at each other.
Then he pulled her close and kissed her. “Come back to me,
Virginia.”

“I will,” she whispered. “Wait for me.”

Callie and Virginia should have been back
hours ago. Bolton tried not to think the worst.

“Girl talk,” he said. “That’s what they’re
doing.”

He knew his sister. Her natural curiosity
bordered on nosiness. She’d be bound to extract every bit of
information out of Virginia that she possibly could. Combine that
with her spontaneity and knack for adventure, and he never knew
what to expect. They could be off exploring one of the canyons, or
Callie could have decided to take Virginia up in Bolton’s plane for
an aerial tour of the million plus acres of tribal land.

He made himself listen to the murmur of the
wind through the trees and the far-off call of a hawk. He made
himself sit quietly beside the campfire and reach within himself
for peace and assurance.

The sound of hooves brought him to his feet.
A paint topped the rise, bearing a dark-haired rider. He strained
his eyes for Virginia, but in his heart he knew she was not there.
He’d heard the sound of only one horse. Besides, Callie would never
have left Virginia so far behind, especially not in the dark.

“Bolton.” Callie was out of the saddle before
the horse came to a complete stop. “I tried to stop her, but she
wouldn’t listen.”

“Where’s Virginia?”

Callie pressed a piece of paper into his
hand.

“Read it, and then I’ll try to explain.” He
opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Just read it,
Bolton!”

He sat beside the fire, using the flames to
illuminate Virginia’s note.

“Dearest Bolton,” she’d written. “How can I
say this without breaking your heart and mine? How can I tell you
good-bye?”

He closed his eyes. Reading the note was
anti-climactic. One hour after Virginia rode off, he knew she was
not coming back. A sense of loss had swept over him.

With hearts and bodies so a-tuned, it was not
unusual for the minds to be intertwined. Especially writers.
Sensitive to a degree that most people never understand, they can
read the mind with a single glance. They can probe the mind from a
distance in ways that remain mysterious even to them.

Bolton knew these things. And yet he’d denied
his instincts. Instead of leaping on his horse and racing down the
mountain after her as his intuition told him to do, he’d stayed on
the mountain telling himself he was being overly protective and
foolish.

A cloud came over the moon, extinguishing all
light. Bolton held the note closer to the fire.

“Please understand that I have no choice,
that I only do what I think is best, what I
know
is best.
Someday you will understand. Someday you will thank me for the
decision I’ve made. Bolton, my dearest love... please forgive
me.”

He folded the note and stuffed it into his
pocket.

“What happened?” he said.

“I don’t really know. I waited at the paddock
while she went inside to make the phone call. She was pale when she
came out. I asked was anything wrong, and she said she couldn’t
talk about it.”

Callie plopped beside the fire and hooked her
arm through Bolton’s.

“She asked me to take her to the
airport.”

“You took her to the airport!”

“Believe me, Bolton, I didn’t want to. I
argued that she should talk to you first, that you’d be happy to
take her, but she was adamant.” Callie blinked back tears. “What
else could I do?”

“It’s okay, Callie.” Bolton stood up. “It’s
not your fault.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find out why she left... and
then I’m going after her.”

“But Bolton, what if she doesn’t want to see
you? She doesn’t have to love you just because you love her. Women
have that right, you know.”

“She loves me.”

“How do you know?” Callie’s question was
prompted by more than sisterly concern; she was genuinely curious
about a process that remained totally mysterious to her.

“My heart knows.”

“Impossible.” She put her hands on her hips
and watched while her brother broke camp. “Hey, I don’t have
anyplace to go for the next few days. Can I come along and watch?”
His look told her what he thought of that idea. “Maybe I can do
something to help out, hold the boxing gloves or count to ten and
say ‘come out fighting.’ “

He rewarded her with a lopsided grin.

“Thanks anyway, Callie, but this is something
I have to do alone.”

o0o

When he got home he called her cell phone and
got no answer. Next he called the airport to check on Virginia’s
flight. Her plane had not yet touched down in Tupelo. He called her
house and left a message.

“Virginia, call me as soon as you get home.
No matter what time it is, call me.”

Now there was nothing he could do except
wait.

“How about a game of chess?” Callie said.

“I can’t concentrate on games.” He sat on the
sofa and picked up Virginia’s picture. “It’s late, Callie. Go on
home.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No.” A picture of Virginia in the kitchen
brought back such erotic memories, he flung it away and stalked
toward his darkroom. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to
work.”

Bolton had done a shoot in Louisiana of a
crayfish festival. He sorted through his digital shots, forcing
himself to focus on each detail. The freedom he enjoyed of choosing
the assignments he wanted was dependent on maintaining the high
quality of his work. One by one he downloaded the photographs,
spectacular shots interspersed with tightly focused, unusual,
intimate shots—his hallmarks.