Pippa's Rescue (7 page)

A long sigh, of relief she imagined, was followed by a heart stopping grin. “Great. How ’bout dinner tonight? I’ll pick you up around seven.”

“I can’t.”

“Want to meet Doc and his lady?”

She shook her head.

“Okay, then, I’ll see you later.” He jogged toward the couple without responding. From their actions, she determined the couple could not see her. Perhaps this Aidan wasn’t human. She’d have so much fun trying to discover his relevance. Skogul walked to Titan’s stall. “I can’t help you forget the past, but I can put you out of your misery.”

Chapter 7

Pippa’s firm bottom, clad in riding trousers, bounced in the saddle as she pushed her horse onward. Basil had a hard time keeping pace and eventually fell behind. Following the dust trail through a copse of pine trees dotted with boulders, he spotted her waiting for him. Sunrays shone on her hair making it appear as if each strand was made from shiny sparkles of slate.

“Sorry about the dust. Deep South needs to run. Care to go a little farther?” Pippa turned around on her saddle. Straight ahead a wide trail wound around a pond and beyond, fields of wheat awaited harvesting. Despite the cool fall temperatures, sweat rippled along his spine. Scents of pine and rainwater pooled into a natural vat and drew him closer. He hoped to hell she carried bottled water in her little medic-pack, or he’d have to taste the muddy scum water.

Basil led Buttercup to the side of her dark-brown horse. “I’m up for what you’ve in mind. But I’m not sure if my horse can keep up with yours. Can you and Deep South take a break?” He cocked his head. “By the way, that’s an unusual name for a stallion.”

Pippa’s soft smile and the way she bit her lower lip stirred the lust in him. He wanted her at this moment more than he’d ever wanted a woman. She swiped at a loose strand of hair. “When my father told me he was going to give me a colt for my thirteenth birthday, he wanted the day to be special. Before I could see my gift, he told me the story of how he and David went south to get the finest horse. Dad could spin quite a story, and so he created a lush tale of bushwhacking through the backwoods of the deep down south.” Her chuckles echoed among the boulders and across the rippling surface of the water as she caressed the steed’s long neck. She stopped near the tiny white spot under the steed’s forehead. “The story was long and drawn out, but once I met my colt”—she sighed—“I fell in love and no other name seemed to fit.”

Deep South snorted and shook his shiny mane then lifted and lowered his head as if in agreement.

Basil Vanguard had fallen in like with her. He admired her business sense, her devotion to the wounded, animals and humans. Evoking Pippa’s childhood memories brought her closer to him.
Stay on topic
. He brought his strategists skills forward. “Have you heard from your brother?”

Her spine went ridged, like a nun preparing to discipline a rowdy child. Her piercing black stare didn’t unnerve him. “No, have you?”

He shook his head, although a negative response wouldn’t be enough for her. “I’ve talked to a few buddies. Wilson’s mug is on a wanted poster. Possible AWOL.”

Her shoulders slumped at the announcement. “Let’s stop. Take a break.”

Instant regret at mentioning her brother and his desertion from the armed forces tore into his core. He should have considered her feelings. A man who cared for a woman would think before shoving his big foot into his overly large mouth. But love’em-and-leave’em had no experience with true female-male relationships.

“Sure. We’ll take a break.” He’d agree to anything to get off the horse. Buttercup was nice enough as long as she was the leader. During the past two miles whenever he pulled the reins, she knocked her head back and he had to hold his knees tight to her sides in order to stay on the seat. The old guy at the stables probably polished the saddle right before Basil hopped on to make sure it was fall-off slick.

By the time he caught up with Pippa, she stood beside some large pines. Deep South shook his head, as if to say, “Come on, you’re late.” Untethered, her horse wouldn’t move unless Pippa requested. That was the kind of bond they had, like most of the people around her. She obtained respect by simple acts of kindness. How could she and her brother be so incredibly different?

Now, how to get off the horse without showing the pain radiating through his thighs? A dismount sans groan, he could do. Foot out of the stirrup, he grit his teeth as his hip joints returned to sockets and swung his leg over landing on the ground with a solid thud. He leaned his head against the filly’s flank. Maybe Pippa missed the awkward dismount.

“Little sore?” she breathed into his ear.

Damn, he had absolutely no luck today. “Not at all. I’m used to my legs being wrapped around a four-legged torture device.”

She chuckled and wiped her hand along the horse’s flank. “Buttercup is as sweet as her name. You should walk for a couple of minutes to loosen the stiffness.”

His attempt at moving his legs was laughable. Week-long missions, with minimal rest, and he’d never experienced this kind of tightness in his inner thighs. He glanced at her. “No wonder your legs are so sexy.”

She blushed, pivoted and walked to a tree stump, gracefully sitting on the sawed off trunk. “Why are you looking for my brother?”

“Same as before: our squad is concerned and I believe Wilson knows the whereabouts of my friend.” Basil squatted, bounced, and stood upright, which helped relieve the burning in his muscles a little.

“What’s your friend’s name?” She broke a piece of twig from a nearby tree. Pine scented the air and a sappy love song played through his mind.

He stared at her, concentrating on her eyes to see a sign of truth or deceit when she answered. “Harrison Lombard.”

She looked to the left for several moments. “I don’t recall the name. When we get back to the house you can point him out in the group photo. Or perhaps you have an image of him on your cell?”

“I don’t. I lost my cell and a front tooth during my last mission. Actually I don’t have any photos at all with me.” He dug around in his pocket. “I’ve a new phone though, and I’ll take one of my little
daisy
.”

Wind blew a strand of hair into her face. “Don’t. I’m sweaty and without makeup.” She tucked the black piece around an ear.

His heart caught. The woman didn’t realize her beauty. Free of cosmetics, she could be a cover girl on a fashion magazine. “Just one, so I can say I used the phone’s feature.” He coaxed, “Say cheese, Pippa.”

Deep South nudged her back. She smiled and leaned against her horse. The love they felt for each other was evident in her soft smile and his gentle nuzzling. Basil pressed the button and snapped the perfect picture of her. Her image would keep him warm on the many cold nights to come as he tracked his friend’s killer.

“You’ve got your photograph. Come”—she tapped the sawn-off tree trunk beside her—“have a seat.”

“Ah, love, if I sit I will not be able to get back on the hag.”

Buttercup grunted. Deep South whinnied in response. Giggles came from Pippa, making her all the more attractive and innocent.

“Come, it’s a warm fall day, no rain so the ground is dry. Let’s pick a spot.”

“Fine.” A grin lit her face and warmed her eyes as their gazes met. “Just for a couple of minutes because I have a full schedule.”

He held out his hand. She took hold, and he pulled her to her feet. Holding onto her, he led her to a grassy patch littered with pine needles away from the trees. A ripple of joy rushed through him. Phillipa was indeed the light in his dark world.

Settled on the fragrant grass, he placed one hand behind his head and the other between them, their shoulders touched. She sighed and nestled beside him. Her hand rested mere inches from his, and he considered brushing her knuckles, but hesitated. She chilled for the first time since he’d met her. The woman was constantly charged. Her brisk pace from sunrise to sunset had to be exhausting. He rarely saw her at night. A couple of evenings she had left dressed in formal garb. Thankfully he didn’t see banker-boy in attendance.

He admired her dedication to the animals she rescued and the people who worked with her. His mum led a score of volunteers for a hospital near Worcester, and they had not always been dependable. Yet, Pippa had her sparse staff returning day after day. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

She covered a yawn. “What is?”

“Resting and not worrying or feeling the nip of obligations.” He touched her hand, in hope she wouldn’t pull away.

“I’ve always obligations and worries, but it is nice to simply lie under the sun on a lazy fall day.” She kept her hand resting in his. Trust was building between them and he hated like hell to do anything to disrupt that feeling, but he would begin to poke around trying to find Harry.

Several minutes passed, her eyes were closed and he wanted to shut his, but his mind kept wrapping around the fact he could be going crazy. Or he was being haunted. Why was the tall blonde chick constantly around him? Why had she agreed to stay at the ranch, when she’d kept in his pocket since he’d met her? The most disturbing thought, why couldn’t others see her?

“Umm. Sun and no saddle biting into my rear, the only thing better would be to…” He turned to his side. She smiled, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the probable pain he’d feel for several hours or in anticipation of what he planned to say. “Call in my favor.”

Her pink tongue flicked over her lips. “Do you think you can handle it?”

Interpreting her words as an invitation, a second later his body covered hers. His arms cupped her head. Their chests touched. Her nipples poked through his T-shirt. His Johnson edged toward the junction of her thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.”

He raised his hips from hers. “Sorry. I misread—”

“No, don’t stop that, just the adoration.” She wrapped her arms tight around his neck and pulled him.

“Ah.” Relief flooded him and he kissed her, light little nibbles around the edges of her lips. Basil stroked her hair. “I’m so into you.”

“And I’m into you.” One leg wrapped around him, she pressed her hips against his.

Dry humping wouldn’t satisfy him, but he’d accept what was offered. He kissed her, until he coaxed a moan from her. Deep tongue thrusts joined them. He leveled one arm on the ground and molded his other to her breasts. Her hips took on the rhythm of their tongues and her fingers dug into his rear, pressing him closer.

Losing their lip connection, he trailed his mouth along her neck tugging her blouse and then her bra until he reached one of her nipples. She lowered her hips. His fully engorged cock slid between her thighs. She moved her hands to his back, pressing and kneading.

“Feels good.”

****

“Too many clothes.” Excitement flowed through her. She hadn’t experienced this magnitude of love since she saw Deep South for the first time.

She tugged his T-shirt. He rolled to the side, flipped the cotton over his head, and went to work on her vest. She toed off her boots. A half-turn and she gripped his belt buckle. Releasing the slip of leather, she lifted so he could remove her jeans. He dragged the panties off with her jeans. Next went her top. He slid his khakis to his knees. Slow, with the backs of his fingers grazing the sides of her breasts. He sighed while nuzzling her neck. His hot breath sent tingles along her arm.

His lips found hers again, and his index finger found her moist warm place. Her muscles contracted, invited him deeper. Slippery wet, titillating, she heated.

She couldn’t wait longer, she needed him and only him. “Now,” she whispered.

He removed his finger and drove home, a gentle thrust. Her legs gripped his backside. A long drawn out sigh slipped from her mouth.

Cheeks heating, her desire grew. They were a mare and a stallion, only becoming complete when they were bound. Would he feel the same way about her?

Pulling out to the edge, he found her G-spot. Oh God he knew how to work it. His tongue laved her nipple. He nudged and caressed. Elbows on the ground, he held her head between his recently callused hands. He kissed her, moving his lips slowly against her, then added tongue. She gyrated under him. He entered her again. She spread her legs wide inviting him to go deeper. An orgasm overpowered her, and in turn he spilled his seed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. So much sadness had bombarded her life in the last few months, but now rolls of happiness flooded her by being with Basil—he rescued her.

Chapter 8

Darkness surrounded him. Being in Wilson’s childhood bedroom wouldn’t provide solace or an inkling of the man’s whereabouts. Basil stared at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do next. Should he apply pressure to Pippa in order to locate her brother? Shards of lights sprinkled the white walls. He shot forward to sit on the edge of the chair.

Skogul’s body formed from tiny fragments into a unified whole. The flash of light freaked him. His gaze went from her smirk to the rest of her body. Wafts of lavender and frankincense or sage or something herbal surrounded the bed where she appeared. She was wearing a dress, matching the description of the one Pippa mentioned as missing several hours ago, and the black thigh-high boots from her previous attire.

Using the glow, he reached across the table and turned on the lamp. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to stay with the subject they’re haunting?”

Her head jerked toward his voice and her eyes narrowed to small slits. “Why are you awake?” She glanced at the clock. “You’ll be scooping poop in two hours.” She sauntered to the side of the bed and reached under, extracting a plastic bag. “I’m not a spy and I’m certainly not hunting you, because I’ve already found you.”

Christ, what if Mattie or Pippa found the large bag, with a zipper and department store logo, under the bed in his room? The apparition had deliberately changed the meaning of his comment. Was she the ghost of a quick screw-and-leave from his younger years? All the warnings from Harry through the years about loving and leaving women rang through Basil’s head.

He decided to test his friend’s theory on the illusion in front of him and lifted the .45 MEU. Civilians didn’t have ownership of the type of pistol, but he did and the Marines allowed it. “If you don’t answer my question, soon you’ll be a true phantom instead of whatever you’re supposed to be.”