Higher Than Eagles (Donovans of the Delta) (11 page)

He didn’t let her hand go, even after she had risen from her chair.

Vashti watched the two of them walk hand in hand to the water. She noted how he lingered over her, helping her into the boat. She saw the smiles they exchanged, private smiles, like two people in love. Leaning back in her chair, she was content.

As the airboat’s motor revved and Jacob pulled it out onto the water, she turned to see a lone green-headed mallard, waddling along the bank, looking for a handout from the tourists.

“Seems to me this matchmaking plan of mine is working to a tee, even if I do say so myself. Yessir, seems like things are working out smoother than ice cream on a summer day.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The boat skimmed the top of the water, parting the marshy grasses at the fringes of the lake. A large bird rose from the bare branches of a dead tree.

“Look,” Benjy shouted. “What’s that big bird?”

“An osprey.” Jacob cut the motor, letting the boat drift, and bent over the little boy in Rachel’s lap. “He’s a bird of prey.”

“He says his prayers?”

“No. It’s a different kind of prey. That means he hunts for his food. See how he’s circling the water? He’s looking for fish. Here. Let me lift you up so you can see better.” He took Benjy and held him high, explaining the bird’s hunting habits, his nesting preferences, even his different calls.

Benjy asked a dozen excited, little-boy questions. Jacob patiently answered every one. Finally the osprey lifted its great wings and soared far across the lake, out of sight. Jacob settled the boy back onto Rachel’s lap.

“Until today, I never knew what I was missing,” Jacob said.

Tears formed in her heart, but she didn’t dare let them out. “He’s a precious child,” she agreed.

“I have nieces and nephews, of course, lots of them.” He grinned. “And more coming every day. But it must be special, having one of your own.”

“It is.”

The enormity of what she had done hit Rachel full force. Watching Jacob, she saw exactly how much he would have loved having a child of his own. She’d denied him that. She’d taken his son away from him. If he knew . . . if only he knew. . . . She shut her mind to the possibilities.

“I think Benjy’s getting sunburned. Could we go back to the cabin for his cap?”

“Certainly. It’s almost lunchtime anyhow. How does food sound, sport?”

“Great. My stomach’s ‘bout to get hungry.”

When they got back to the shore, they discovered that Vashti had already gone back to the cabin. Benjy led the way, tugging on Rachel and Jacob’s hands.

Jacob glanced across the boy’s head at Rachel. “I don’t suppose there’s any doubt that I’ll be staying for lunch.”

“You can stay, but we need to talk.”

“After lunch. I never could think straight on an empty stomach.”

“Con artist.”

“I always was, Rachel.”

She remembered. She remembered so well. . . .

 o0o

It had been the day they’d first met. It was January, cold and rainy. They had both been at the Greenville Public Library, Rachel looking for a good mystery novel, and Jacob browsing through the aviation books. He’d spotted her across the stacks.

She saw him coming, red hair all tousled, as if it had been styled by a stiff north wind, and eyes so impossibly blue, she couldn’t believe they were real. And that smile. It was as inviting as a hearth fire on a cold winter’s day.

He paused, checking the placards on the end of the stacks, then he strolled casually down the narrow aisle toward her.

“Looking for a good mystery?” he asked.

“Yes. It helps pass the time.”

“For me, too. Nothing like a good—” he paused, his eyes scanning the book spines, “Agatha Christie to read on a day like this.”

“I prefer M. M. Kaye.”

“Sure. Him too.”

Rachel didn’t try to hide her smile.

“You have a beautiful smile.” He stuck out his hand. “Jacob Donovan.”

“Rachel Windham.”

From the moment she’d put her hand in his, she’d known they would be together. Currents of awareness shot through her, so vivid, she felt as if neon lights had been turned on inside her body.

He’d invited her out for hot chocolate. It wasn’t until two weeks later that she told him M. M. Kaye was a woman.

 o0o

Standing on her front porch, watching Vashti escort Benjy to the kitchen, the memories washed over her.

“A penny for your thoughts, Rachel.”

She turned and caught Jacob watching her, his face a mixture of puzzlement and vulnerability.

“I was just remembering the first day we met.” She smiled. “You pretended to know about mysteries.”

He grinned. “It got me what I wanted.”

“Only because I wanted it too. In those days, you were quite irresistible, Jacob Donovan.”

“Only in those days, Rachel?”

“Last night won’t happen again.” She hesitated, looking deep into his eyes. There was no sound on the porch. Not even a whisper of a summer breeze marred the deep silence between them.

“It can’t happen again,” she whispered.

He touched her hair, lightly brushing his fingertips over the shining strands. Her hair seemed to be alive. It caught at his fingers, clung to them, wound around them as if trying to hold on forever.

“I think I’ll miss your hair the most, Rachel. . . .” His hand drifted down and cupped the back of her neck. Pulling her close, he pressed his lips briefly against her cheek. “Or perhaps it’s the scent of roses I’ll miss the most. . . .” He brushed her lips lightly with his. “Or it could be the shape of your lips. . . .” His mouth took hers again, harder this time. “Full and sensual and so right, Rachel, so damned right.” He tasted her, a light connection of flesh that made her want more.

“You’re leaving?”

He captured her lips for one last, fierce kiss, then he released her. Stepping back, he leaned against the porch railing.

“Yes, Rachel, but not because of you.”

She fought for control. Had he guessed? she wondered. Did he know?

Jacob started forward. “Are you all right? You’re so pale.”

She held up her hand. “Don’t. I’m all right. Lack of sleep, I guess.” Certain her face was not the blank mask she wanted it to be, she turned her back to him.

“You’re sure that’s all?”

“Yes.” She drew a couple of calming breaths before turning to face him again. She even smiled.

Jacob marveled that something as insignificant as loss of color could send him almost into a panic over Rachel. It was a hell of a way to act over a woman he was planning to leave. Exercising some of that iron control he used in fighting a stubborn blaze, he made himself stay against the porch railing, even forced himself to appear relaxed and nonchalant.

“I know I promised to hound your steps until I found out the truth, but I never figured on Benjy.”

“I don’t want him hurt, Jacob.”

“Neither do I, and that’s why I’m leaving. I don’t want him to become attached to me. I can’t be his pal while I’m trying to ferret the truth out of his mother, and then turn my back on him and walk away. I won’t do that to your son, Rachel. Even if I never find out the truth.”

“Thank you, Jacob.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I said I was leaving; I didn’t say I was giving up.”

“Please . . . just let it go.”

“No. I can’t.” He shrugged his shoulders in an eloquent way that was typically Donovan and gave her a debonair smile. “I guess it’s a matter of pride. A man doesn’t like to think he let another man win his woman away.”

“It wasn’t like that, Jacob. You know it.”

“No, I don’t know it. I know only what you wrote.”

“What I wrote was true. I couldn’t stand loving a man who might not come home from the next fire or survive the next fast airplane ride.”

“I think it was half the truth, Rachel. But that fear doesn’t explain why my place in your bed was barely cold before you’d married another.”

She paled again. Jacob left his post at the porch railing and chucked her under the chin.

“You should try to get more sleep, my sweet.” His hand lingered on her face a moment before letting go. “Let’s go inside to lunch. I need to say goodbye to Benjy.”

“Are you leaving today, Jacob?”

“Is there any special reason I should stay?”

Involuntarily, her gaze swung across the way to his cabin. His low chuckle made her blush.

“Benjy loves the boat so,” she said, “and I don’t think one more afternoon will make that much difference. Friends come and go in the life of a little boy.”

“Tomorrow is soon enough.”

He took her arm, and they went inside to lunch.

 o0o

Jacob had stayed the afternoon, taking Benjy and Rachel out again in the airboat, then he’d said his goodbyes. He’d left the lake around nightfall and driven all the way into Orlando for dinner. Ninety miles there and ninety miles back.

Why in the hell wasn’t he tired? Why in the hell couldn’t he sleep? He kicked back the sheet on his cot and reached for his pants. Maybe some night air would do him good, he thought as he padded barefoot to his front porch.

 o0o

In the cabin next door, Rachel peered through the darkness at her clock. Midnight. The last time she’d looked it had said eleven forty-five, and the time before that eleven-thirty. She was exhausted merely from tossing and turning. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she sleep?

She swung her feet over the side of the bed and into her slippers. Her satin nightshirt whispered against the rumpled sheets as she stood up. Being careful not to wake Vashti and Benjy, she tiptoed through her dark house and onto the front porch. She hoped the night air would clear her head.

Jacob saw her the minute she stepped out onto her porch. The full moon glowed against her hair, reflected off the shiny fabric of her nightshirt.

She leaned against the railing, her long, smooth legs gleaming in the moonlight. Jacob’s heart slammed against his chest. Need clambered through his body. Unaware that she was being watched, Rachel stretched her arms high above her head, arching her body in the sensual manner he remembered so well.

“Rachel.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken her name until he heard the sound of his own voice. It was too soft for her to hear, of course. If he had to sit out there in the moonlight and make a fool of himself, at least Rachel didn’t know it.

Pressing her hips against the railing, Rachel leaned far over her porch and lifted her heavy hair off her neck. It filtered through her fingers, shining like sparklers.

Jacob’s chair clattered against the floor as he stood up. His feet padded softly on the wooden steps. The woods were dark and the grass was damp with dew. His mind registered those things, storing them away. He was moving swiftly now, almost running. His mind noted that too. But it wasn’t his mind that was in charge: it was his heart. Rachel was waiting in the moonlight, and he was going to her.

She didn’t know what made her turn toward the woods—instinct, a small noise, restlessness. She couldn’t be sure. But as her body pivoted slowly, she saw him. Without stopping to wonder why, she left her front porch and walked into the night, toward Jacob.

They met in the middle of the small group of trees. He caught her hands. They exchanged a long, deep look, then Jacob lifted her into his arms and started back to his cabin.

His footsteps sounded like destiny on the porch steps; the slamming of the screen door sounded like fate. Only when they were inside his small bedroom did they speak.

“Once was never enough with you, Rachel.”

“It’s a good way to say goodbye.”

“A very good way.”

He lowered her feet to the floor, letting her body slide against his. Her satin nightshirt slithered across his skin, silky and lightly scented. He bent over her and pressed his lips against her throat. Her heavy pulse beat stirred the sweet, heady fragrance so that he seemed surrounded by roses.

“All day I thought of holding you like this.” His voice was rich and deep, a husky whisper that tickled her skin.

“And I thought of this, Jacob. . . .” She leaned into his chest. “The way your heart feels against mine.”

“Never more than a heartbeat away,” he murmured as he took her lips. They were soft and yielding.

He played his mouth tenderly over hers, tasting lightly, sucking briefly, dragging out the heady sweet contact until they both thought the room had tipped upside down. Gone was the sharp struggle of battle they’d known the night before. The crackling feeling of betrayal had vanished. Tonight there was only the tenderness, the coming together of two people who couldn’t stay apart.

“Ahhh, Jacob.” Rachel tipped back her head, baring her throat. “You whisper through my blood like a blues melody. Hauntingly sweet and almost unbearably sad.”

“Sad, my Rachel?”

His lips brushed along the slender line of her throat.

“Seeing you and knowing you can never be mine. That’s the sadness.”

He ran his hands down her silky back, back and forth, easing away the tension. “Tonight I’m yours.” His hands drifted lower until they were cupping her hips. “Tonight you are mine. Only mine.”

“Yes.” She tangled her hands in his wild hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. The tenderness was edged with hunger now, a fierce longing that grew and grew until it was separate from the two people who kissed, a wild thing, almost out of control.

When he lifted his head, Jacob’s eyes were the dark blue of skies before a thunderstorm. “If this is goodbye, I want it to last forever.”

“At least until morning comes.”

He unbuttoned her nightshirt and slid it slowly over her shoulders. His gaze seared her bare skin, then he bent and planted a long, slow kiss on each shoulder.

“Your mouth is hot, Jacob.”

“So am I . . . my Rachel . . . So am I.” He spoke softly, between the kisses he rained gently on her skin.

Her silky nightshirt slipped to the floor. Jacob stepped back and worshiped her with his eyes. She stood very still, letting him memorize her.

“Your breasts are fuller.” Reaching out, he cupped one breast.