Jennifer Greene - Conquer the Memories

But the plane had taken off without him. He’d just stood there, his ticket in hand, his anger surrounding him like an aura, a rage for which he had no outlet. Sonia…had known what was in his head, but she didn’t understand. There was no possible way he could make her understand. She wasn’t a man. It was that simple.

So was the sudden soul-wrenching fear of losing her. Just that simple.

His knees pressed into the horse’s flanks and Black Lightning surged forward, knowing where they were going without being told. He had barely twenty minutes of daylight left. The wind ruffled through Black Lightning’s mane, and in the pale light of dusk Craig’s features took on a primitive cast, hard and austere, his eyes as hard as wet stones.

Fear was something he’d never had to deal with before. He hadn’t been afraid in Chicago. But he was now.

Black Lightning strained for greater speed. The powerful animal’s muscles surged beneath Craig’s thighs in the rhythm of a race. He had to find her.

The colors from the setting sun painted the entire sky. Deep rose and amethyst glowed above the bleak, rocky landscape all around her. Not a rabbit stirred, not a bird. Sonia paused, stroking Belle’s smooth neck. Both of them had slowed to an aimless walk.

There was nowhere to go. The huge Western sky just kept on coming; the land offered no shelter…certainly not the kind of shelter that might have comforted her. Belle’s flanks were damp; Sonia could feel a streak of dirt on her cheek. She was exhausted, weary from the fierce ride to nowhere and weary in her heart. Sand and dust had coated every inch of her skin, and she knew that all too soon the night would turn cold.

Once more she glanced toward home with despair in her eyes. Instead of total emptiness, though, she saw a cloud of dust coming toward her from the mouth of the canyon to the west. Her heart picked up the oddest fluttering pulse, and then she held her breath altogether. As she watched, the billowing dust took form.

Her heart suddenly soared sky-high. Still, it took several seconds for the faintest smile to form on her lips. Bending down, she whispered to Belle, as a sweet blur of tears filled her eyes. Happy tears.

Craig knew she’d seen him because he’d watched her head turn. Then she turned again and, with her long legs pressed to Belle’s flanks, she bent low over the horse’s mane and raced away from him. Where she thought she could run to he had no idea. And that she even wanted to run…

He dug his knees into Black Lightning’s sides and bent low. The animal seemed to sense the desperate urgency in his master and burst forward in rollicking chase. They gained a hundred yards, and then another hundred. Minutes later Craig could see the shape of her legs pressed tightly against her horse, the wild, whipping curl of her hair. And then she switched directions and left a soaring cloud of dust behind her.

She made a mistake in doing that. A big mistake in judgment. He cut to her left, closing the distance by fifty yards, then another thirty. Both horse and rider increased their speed in one last burst of energy. In seconds, they were only a length behind her.

From nowhere, she raised both hands high in the air, balancing only with her legs on the horse. Horrified, Craig closed the last bit of distance between them, grappled an iron hand around her ribs and snatched her free before she could fall. Belle’s reins floated off as the mare continued the race into the distance, her load that much lighter.

He fought to slow his horse and at the same time kept a tight grip, very tight grip, on his wife. Black Lightning ground to a stop, his lungs heaving. Craig dropped the reins and pulled Sonia up from her precarious, and undoubtedly uncomfortable, position upside down across his thighs.

Wanting to shout at her for her damn-fool stunt, somehow he didn’t. He tugged her close instead, wrapping his arms around her, winding her legs around his. For the first time in hours, he took a deep, relaxed breath. She was as dirty as a kid let loose in a sand pit. She still smelled like Sonia, whatever soap she used, whatever shampoo she used, whatever perfume she used. Whatever the hell was underneath all of that made such a difference.

For several minutes, he just held her, until he could work up a little rage again. That wasn’t easy, when all he wanted was to love her and love her and love her…Finally, he reached up to tug at her hair. “Would you care to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing?”

He meant to sound furious; somehow his voice only sounded gravelly with emotion. He also meant for that little tug to punish just a little, but instead, his fingers ended up caressing her hair, smoothing it gently back from her temples. Her face lifted to his. He hadn’t expected to see the dance of laughter on her lips. There were tears streaking down her cheeks; in the darkness they looked like jewels.

He kissed away one tear and then another.

“Craig, I was so afraid you weren’t-”

He kissed her trembling mouth, then. “You don’t get rid of a damn fool that easily, little one.”

“You weren’t a fool. I never thought that…” Joy was pulsing through her, and relief. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She seemed to be doing both. “I’m just so glad…”

He lifted her down, then swung off the horse himself. She walked into his arms, sliding her hands around his waist, crisscrossing them around his back as if she could impress the brand of him on her own skin. They were both hot, damp-hot, horse-hot, emotion-hot…and the suddenness of night falling brought a chill that only the touch of him dispelled.

“Sonia, I’m sorry. I never, never meant to hurt you…” His lips pressed into her hair. “Come here, you,” he growled suddenly.

“I’m right here.”

“Not close enough.” His palms framed her face and forced her chin up. He claimed her mouth, hard, rough, insistent. By the time his lips lifted from hers, she felt a calm settling through her like riches. More than that his arms swept around her, warm and tender, in a hug so heartfelt and precious that she knew he really was home again. “Now, are you going to tell me why the hell you pulled that damn-fool stunt?” he murmured in her ear.

“So you could play hero. So you could swoop down out of the Western sky and play the cowboy claiming his woman.” She shifted in his arms, drawing her wrists up around his neck. There was a swift flash of disbelief and even anger in his eyes, but she pressed her finger to his lips before he could say anything. She hadn’t been playing games. Her laughter died as well as her tears; vibrant emotions played on her face. “Would you listen for a minute?” she whispered.

“I’m listening.”

“You were there. I knew you were there to catch me. And maybe it was a little foolish,” she admitted softly, “but I had to tell you-I had to show you…” She took a breath, trying to make the words somehow fit right. “Men have such strange ideas about heroes,” she said quietly. “Heroes aren’t pirates, and you can’t identify them by shining armor, and they never really slay dragons.”

When he tried to speak again, she pressed her finger firmly on his mouth.

“Being a man has nothing to do with using your fists or playing macho scenes,” she said firmly. “A real hero builds his life with strength and courage. He hurts, because he feels things so deeply. He’s vulnerable, and there’s a quality that men never have the sense to be proud of. And most of all,” she added, “a hero is there for his lady when she needs him. You were there, and I knew you would be. Now, if I have to spell out any further exactly what you are to me-”