Warrior's Embrace (5 page)

“In bed or in the magazines?”

“Both,” she said. Bolton’s smile was slow and
easy. “All right... all right. I admit it. I trust you, Bolton. As
much as I can trust any of you.”

“Good. Then I’ll do the interview.”

He studied her for so long, she felt as if he
were probing her with laser beams.

“Back to my original question: What happened
to make you distrust men?”

This time he didn’t protest when she walked
away. With the instinct given to all men who love nature, he
understood that there were times when all creatures must be free.
He knew that unless he let Virginia go, he could never keep her,
never even
hope
to keep her.

Her stride was long and determined, and for a
moment it looked as if she meant to stalk all the way to her house
and never look back. He stood with his feet firmly planted,
resisting the urge to follow her.

There was something magnificent in her anger.
The way her skirts swished left no doubt in his mind that
underneath was a body seething and ready to explode. That was one
of the things he loved about Virginia: She never did anything
halfway. Whether she was making love or expressing her rage, she
put her entire self into it. With her there was no pouting, no
sniffling, no retreating into silence. With Virginia, he knew
exactly where he stood.

And at the moment, he was at the edge of the
woods all by himself, literally as well as figuratively.

He knew the minute she made up her mind to
turn back. Her skirt told the story. The angry, swishing skirt
began a gentle swaying. Bolton held his breath, watching. The sun
had all but disappeared, leaving a red-gold glow that reflected in
Virginia’s honey-colored hair and on face.

It was a picture too good to miss. He aimed
and fired. He would never tire of watching Virginia, never tire of
photographing her. With or without the lens she was a subject
worthy of hours and days and years of contemplation.

When she turned and saw the camera, she
smiled.

“You can’t resist a good shot, can you?” she
said.

“I can’t resist you.”

She came back up the path to him, and he
didn’t stop shooting until she stood two feet away, eyes lifted to
his.

“You are irresistible,” she whispered. “I
can’t walk away from you like that.”

He took her hands, lifted them to his lips,
and kissed her open palms.

“Virginia, you don’t have to tell me anything
you don’t want to. Your past doesn’t matter to me. All that matters
is us... here... now.”

“No, I need to tell you.” She withdrew her
hands and stepped back as if touching him while she talked might
taint him. “It was a long time ago. I was younger then, naive in
many ways, especially about men. Roger was the only man I’d ever
known... intimately.”

The confession made her self-conscious, and
she turned her face from him. He caressed her cheek lightly, once,
making no attempt to turn her face back to his.

One touch was enough. Virginia faced him once
more.

“I guess that makes me hopelessly outdated,”
she said.

“It makes you hopelessly wonderful.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. Quickly she shut her
eyes so she wouldn’t see the love light shining in his. She’d seen
that love light once, had thought it would burn forever.

What had gotten into her anyway? Baring her
soul like that?

Shrugging her shoulders, she attempted a
light laugh.

“Look,” she said. “It was nothing. He left me
for another woman. Men do it every day.”

In the fading light she tried to study his
face, but it was hidden in purple shadows. Why was he so still? Why
didn’t he say something?

She clenched her hands together, then hid
them in the folds of her full skirt. Still, Bolton was silent.

“All right,” she said. “He didn’t just leave
me for some stranger. Besides Jane, she was my best friend. Jane,
Sandra, and Virginia, the Three Musketeers, one for all and all for
one. I was teaching history, saving every penny I made so Roger and
I could build our dream house. He not only took my best friend, he
took all my money as well. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. If
it hadn’t been for Jane, Candace and I would not have had a place
to stay.”

“Jane’s a lovely woman, Virginia.”

“Yes, she is, inside and out.”

“I don’t want Jane. I want you.” Bolton
glanced over her vast estate. “This is an impressive place, but I
prefer a simpler setting, mountains instead of tennis courts, woods
instead of swimming pools, birch logs instead of brick and stone.”
He took both her hands. When she tried to jerk away, he held on
tightly. “I don’t want your money, Virginia. If you gave every
penny of it away, I’d still be in love with you.”

Cursing the darkness that hid her face from
him, he waited for his words to sink in. He could tell by the
stiffness of her body that she was still unconvinced. What would it
take to make this woman believe how he loved her? What would he
have to do to show her that the fire and magic between them was a
once in a life time thing?

“You push too hard, Bolton,” his mother was
always telling him. “Ever since you were born you’ve tried to
control everything in your path. Sometimes you have to let go.
Sometimes you have to let things happen.”

He would give everything he owned, including
his beloved horse and dog, if he could know the right thing to say,
the right thing to do so that Virginia would let down her guard and
let him love her. But when it came to matters of the heart, he was
a novice. And so he decided to simply let things happen.

Gathering her into his arms, he held her
close. Her rigid stance told him that she was merely allowing this
embrace, and perhaps only for the moment.

“It’s all right, Virginia,” he whispered,
pressing his cheek against her hair. “We won’t speak of these
things.”

Relief flooded through her. She stood on
tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

“Let’s go inside and raid the refrigerator,”
she said.

“Let’s go.”

Linking hands, they raced down the path
together. Then together they created a feast as unconventional as
it was huge, scrambled eggs and pasta salad, graham crackers with
melted marshmallows and chocolate on top, iced tea with a sprig of
mint, and toast cut in the shape of hearts. Bolton did the cutting,
and she did the supervising. The result was eight perfect hearts
spread with butter and raspberry jam.

“Too pretty to eat,” she said.

“Unless you’re starving.” He ate two at one
time. “I’m glad I thought of them.”

“Hey, the hearts were my idea.”

“I beg your pardon. That’s outright
plagiarism.”

“Guilty.” She held out her hands, laughing.
“Take me captive. Punish me.”

He carried her up the stairs, and they made
slow, exquisite love while the moon made changing patterns across
the sheets.

“I wish you had brought your clothes so you
could stay the night,” she said.

“I don’t need anything except you, Virginia.”
He yawned and stretched flat on his back. “I’ll get my clothes in
the morning.”

It was that simple. Bolton was moving in with
her. At least until Candace came home.

Virginia wasn’t going to think about that.
Not yet. What she’d think about was the glorious week ahead.

Bolton was already asleep. Spread across her
sheets gloriously naked, his right hand resting on her stomach and
his left flung above his head, he took up most of her bed. Smiling,
Virginia curled next to him. She loved the smell of him, the feel
of him, the look of him.

The last thing she thought about before she
fell asleep was that when she woke up in the morning, Bolton would
be there.

o0o

He kissed her awake. His kisses were sweet
and damp, falling on her cheek, her ear, her nose, her lips. When
she opened her eyes she was dazzled by the sight of him bending
over her naked.

“Good morning,” he said.

Automatically she started reaching for her
robe. Morning meant another day to write, another day to prove
herself.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Early.” He eased her back to the bed and
tucked the covers under her chin. “Don’t get up. I wanted to let
you know that I’m going to take a quick shower, then run back to
the motel and get my things.”

“Hmmm.” She snuggled under the covers.
“Okay.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind was the
idea of joining him in the shower, then putting on jogging pants
and racing toward the barn and saddling the horses. Oh, there was
so much they could do together, so much she could show him.

The next thing she knew the doorbell was
ringing. She grabbed her robe.

“Bolton?” she called, but all she heard was
the sound of the shower. The doorbell pinged again. “Coming,” she
yelled, racing down the stairs.

Jane stood on her front porch, dressed in
hot-pink sweats that clashed with her hair.

“Jane...” Flustered, Virginia cinched her
belt tighter and smoothed her hair. “What in the world?”

“You told me to come over here for a morning
jog come hell or high water. Of course, you forgot to mention that
you’d be otherwise engaged.” Jane plucked an oak leaf out of
Virginia’s hair. “I hope the Apache was as good in the sack as he
looked like he’d be.”

“Shhh, he might hear you.”

“That’s his car in the driveway, isn’t
it?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs... in the shower.”

“Aha! This is getting better and better.”
Jane punched her friend’s arm. “Good for you, old gal.”

Virginia grabbed Jane and dragged her into
the kitchen where the danger of being overheard was lessened.

“My Lord.” Hands on hips, Jane surveyed the
kitchen. “What happened in here? An orgy, I hope.”

Virginia felt her face flush.

“We didn’t clean up after dinner.”

“Dinner?” Inspecting pots, pans, and plates,
Jane popped a leftover graham cracker treat into her mouth. “It
looks like breakfast, lunch,
and
dinner, to me. I hope
that means you were too busy with more exciting things to eat.”

“None of your business.”

“Hey, I’m the one who told you to have at it.
Remember?”

As much as Virginia loved Jane, she felt a
disloyalty to Bolton in letting her best friend describe what they
had done as
having at it.

“It wasn’t like that, Jane.”

Something in the quiet conviction of
Virginia’s tone made Jane wary. She sat down heavily at the
table.

“Oh, my...I need something to drink.”

Virginia got two cups from the cupboard.

“Hot tea or coffee?”

“I don’t care as long as it’s laced with
plenty of sugar.”

The old friends were silent as Virginia
brewed coffee in the Keurig then added cream and a heaping portion
of sugar to Jane’s cup. Completely at ease now, Virginia leaned
back in her chair and enjoyed her morning coffee.

“I’ve never seen you so...
glowy,
”
Jane said.

“I feel good. Better than good.
Wonderful.”

Jane plopped her cup in its saucer and leaned
across the table to grab Virginia’s hands.

“Now you listen to me, Virginia. Don’t you
dare
fantasize about this. Don’t you dare tell me you’ve
fallen in love.”

“All right. I won’t.”

From upstairs came the sound of Bolton’s
footsteps as he moved around the bedroom, dressing. A feeling as
lovely as roses blooming overcame Virginia. Glancing through the
open doorway and in the direction of the stairs, she gave a small
secret smile.

“Virginia...”

“I’m not going to do anything foolish,
Jane.”

“Why am I not convinced? Is it because you’ve
taken to going to bed with oak leaves in your hair? Or is it those
hickeys all over your neck?”

Virginia drew the neck of her robe
higher.

“Remember what happened with Harold,” Jane
said.

“That was six years ago.”

“You thought he was the next best thing to
sliced bread.”

“He didn’t fool me for long.”

“He practically had you at the altar before
you discovered he was planning to pay off all his gambling debts
with your money and then retire and spend the rest of your money
traveling over Europe.”

“All right. So I made a mistake. But I’m not
altar bound with Bolton Gray Wolf. I have better sense than that.”
A heavy silence fell over them as Jane studied her. “I don’t want
to hear it, Jane.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Good. Don’t.”

They heard the sound of whistling, then
footsteps on the stairs. Virginia smiled as if Christmas were
coming and she was being granted a private audience with Santa.

“I guess this means the jog is off,” Jane
said.

“We’ll jog, Jane... after Bolton has gone
back to Arizona.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,
Virginia.”

Virginia barely heard her, for Bolton Gray
Wolf filled the doorway, and nothing else mattered.

“Hi, Bolton, bye, Bolton. Gotta go,” Jane
said, but neither of them heard her.

Bolton leaned in the doorway drinking in the
sight of Virginia, and she sat in her chair devouring him with her
eyes. The chemistry between them was so sizzling the air felt
charged.

“You look delicious,” Virginia said. “Good
enough to eat.”

“I was thinking the same thing about
you.”

Coming from any other man, the compliment
would have sounded like flattery, but Virginia had learned that
Bolton said what he meant and meant what he said, even when he was
professing his love. There was no doubt in her mind that Bolton
Gray Wolf loved her, but would he love her when he was forty and
still turning heads and she was fifty-three and nothing was turning
except her hair?

“Not only thinking, but
planning
...”
he said, stalking her with passionate intent gleaming in his
eyes.