The Bride Wore Starlight (27 page)

“Okay. If trying this again in a few minutes is part of the fear management therapy.” He nuzzled the hollow between her neck and shoulder.

“It would be my first choice of treatment.”

“I feel better already.” He gnawed the tender skin below her ear, tickling it and eliciting a happy shriek. “But at the moment, you're cold. I can feel it. Let's clean up and get in where it's warm.”

“If you're talking about the goose bumps, they are not from the cold.”

“I see. Well, nevertheless, let's try making more of them under the covers.”

The “covers” were their two sleeping bags, zipped together to make one down-filled cocoon. They tucked themselves in, and Alec enveloped her, making her safe, turning her goose bumps into warm contentment.

“Wake me when you're ready.” She grinned dopily and drifted into sweet oblivion with her head pillowed on his arm and his kiss pressed to the top of her head.

T
HE
WORLD EXPLODED
for real, tearing into the middle of Alec's very hot dream that had, exquisitely and erotically, nothing to do with Humvees or Iraq. A screech and the convulsive jolt of Joely's warm, naked body in his arms punctuated the enormous crash of thunder that had scared them both awake. She buried her head in his arms.

“Jeez,” she said. “That was close.”

“It was.” He kissed her, his mind racing between detailed images from the interrupted dream he now desperately wanted to turn into reality, and the actual reality of what encroaching thunder meant. “Come on. I know what I promised, but I think finding shelter before the rain hits has to come first.”

They scrambled reluctantly into clothes. He put his leg back on, safely holding close the memory of his unbelievable Joely and the way she'd turned his moment of greatest concern into a moment that connected her to him forever. The wind picked up swiftly, and Alec threw dirt on their mostly dead fire until the embers were suffocated. Rain would extinguish it, but he didn't want to take any chances with coals in the wind.

Joely rolled everything quickly into their saddle packs and cleared their campsite. “Of course it has to do this the only night we're not going to be in a cabin.”

“I think we made the thunder gods jealous with our own storm.” He took a moment to capture her and brand another kiss across her lips. She melted against him.

“That was unbelievably corny,” she said. “But I say, let them try and best us.”

He wanted to keep going. His undisciplined body was only reacting harder, literally, to her touch, her scent, her lips, but they needed the leeward hillside and the rock overhang they'd scouted before making camp under the trees. Trees were a godsend in normal weather. They could be lethal in a thunderstorm.

More thunder roared and rolled toward them. It was pitch dark except for the constant show from lightning. He pulled their flashlights from his saddlebags and handed one to her.

“Put the saddles deep under the pine trees and put the saddle blankets over them. They'll be okay. Let's grab the horses first . . . ” And that's when he realized what was wrong. “Shit. Where's Rowan?”

“She was tied up under the tree.”

“But she's not there. She must have gotten scared and snapped that little leash. It's what it's meant to do if she got tangled or in trouble, but she should have come to us.”

That started frantic calling, desperate listening, and a panic he couldn't control roiling in Alec's gut. He didn't realize how frenzied he'd grown until Joely stopped him and pressed to him in a tight hug. She breathed deeply for him. Calmed him with a steady, certain voice.

“It's okay, Alec. We'll find her. I promise.”

It took five long, precious minutes before they heard the high-pitched whine.

“Rowan! Here girl, come on, don't be afraid,” he called to his dog.

The whining came again along with a thunder crack and a gust of straight-line wind that nearly toppled them both.

“Crap and a half,” Joely said. “This is not funny.”

Finally Rowan let out her low, unmistakable woof. They found her beneath a cottonwood tree pinned by a five-inch-thick branch taken down by the storm. Joely let out a cry. Alec knelt, his panic surging again. The big dog raised her head and licked his hand.

“The branch is caught and looks like it smashed into her knee,” Joely said, holding the flashlight steady on Rowan's leg. We can get it off her, but I think she might be in tough shape. I can't tell if it crushed her sides, too.”

“Oh, God.” He moaned. “Rowan, I'm so sorry. We'll get you out.”

It took only seconds to move the long, heavy limb. Alec prayed for his dog to jump up, happy to have her prison opened. But she didn't move. She thumped her tail and lifted her head to look at him with confused eyes, then lay back down.

“Oh, God,” he said again.

“Let me look.” Joely knelt behind the dog's back. “Dogs get hurt all the time on a ranch. Hold my flashlight.”

She ran her hands slowly over Rowan's belly, ribs, and back. The dog didn't make a peep.

“I don't think anything's out of place here,” she said. “It's all her leg. But I can feel a bone out of place. And there's a gash right above the joint. I don't think she lost a lot of blood, but it's hard to tell.”

She stood and left him so she could hop and shuffle to the saddle rolls. Quickly she extracted a white tank top from her pack. She returned and in moments had ripped a makeshift bandage out of the shirt. Carefully she wrapped it tightly enough around Rowan's leg to stop the bleeding.

“We have to figure out a way to get her home,” she said.

“I'll ride out.”

“No.”

The forcefulness behind her single word made him stare, too numb with worry to start an argument. “No?”

“We have to wait until the rain passes, and then I'm the one who should go. It won't be light for hours yet, but I know this area like I know my name. I can get close enough to the highway to maybe get a cell phone signal. If not that, I'll get home faster, and Cole can get the truck and trailer close.”

“We'll discuss it after the storm.”

The rain started five minutes later. Between the two of them they hefted Rowan to the shelter spot and led the horses out of the worst of the wind. Joely's bravery in forcing use of her injured leg humbled and astounded Alec. By the time they sat mostly out of the rain all five of them were soaked. Rowan slept, and Alec held her big head in his lap, stroking and talking. Joely held him, rubbing shoulders and convincing him everything would be fine.

The student who had been learning how to find her strength had definitely become the master.

She left the instant the rain slowed and the thunder faded into the east. It ate at him like acid that she was headed out by herself, but she never wavered. Rowan would be more relaxed with him, she said. She would have someone back before suppertime. If she rode quickly it would only be a few hours.

As she headed off, all Alec could think was how little fast riding she'd done and how her legs had to be like rubber. He convinced himself she was undertaking an inevitable suicide mission and created a long list of possible disastrous outcomes. When he went to work on a list of successful ones, the only item was “miracle.” Rowan whimpered in her sleep, distracting him, and he tried to wake her. She opened one eye and thumped her tail, but then slept again almost before the thump ended.

Finally exhaustion hit him, and his eyes closed, too. He fought to stay awake, to keep prayers heading heavenward for his dog, and for his girl. It had only been a few hours since her lovemaking had made him feel like king of the world.

What was it Sadie had said? Every form of lovemaking involved trust? He brought back the memory of how hard it had been to drop his jeans. He'd bared every ounce of vulnerability he still kept hidden, but her reaction had defined the word trust.

She had defined the word love. He'd said he loved her, and now as he had no choice but to wait in half panic, he knew he'd meant the word in every way.

T
HE WILDEST PART
of the storm might have passed, but rain still drove like fine needles into Joely's skin. The gamble she took by leaving before it cleared was that she'd had to guess this was the end of the system and the rain would end soon. Fifteen minutes into her trip, Joely wondered what had possessed her to be so bold.

She'd never been afraid of the dark, so the night didn't bother her. She'd always known that nocturnal animals prowled the darkness—cougars and coyotes among the most dangerous—but she and her sisters had learned as children how to beware of and avoid the creatures who were the true residents of this land. She wasn't even afraid of storms, although she knew the idiocy of getting caught without shelter in a Wyoming plains tempest.

What she feared was falling off the horse. If she did she wouldn't be able to get back on without Alec's help. If she'd had Penny, she'd have believed she could ford head high rivers and never fall. But Muddy was an unknown. An interloper. A horse she'd had no part in choosing and, therefore, a horse she hadn't wanted. Unfortunately, their lives now more or less depended on each other.

“Don't be melodramatic,” she said out loud, and let the darkness swallow the sound. Muddy Waters swiveled his ears back, listening for more of her voice. “You aren't depending on me for anything are you?” she asked him and knew the question was stupid on its face. Any horse united with a human by virtue of a saddle and bridle had to trust every minute its rider wouldn't put him in harm's way. Muddy needed her as much as she needed him.

She wasn't sure she had any ability to promise this horse he could trust her. Her legs had been strong for the first five minutes. Now they felt like noodles tied to the stirrups with licorice.

Alec had argued that she should be the one to stay with Rowan. From a strictly physical standpoint he'd been right. He had five times her stamina and strength. But Rowan had started to whine and whimper in her sleep. It took a great deal of pain to make a dog complain out loud. She had a long, deep laceration on her leg, and although it didn't look like it had punctured the joint capsule, Joely couldn't be sure in the dark. Joint infection was a possibility and that could be life threatening. At the very least the wound needed stitching, and the longer they waited to get help, the less likely it would be that Rowan survived. If Alec were to get lost, a highly likely scenario, nobody would come looking for them for two more days.

The musings helped her pass another five minutes. She knew exactly where she was, and it didn't comfort her much. She hadn't made much progress over the soggy ground. She might as well have been plodding along pulling an old milk wagon. A solid thirty miles remained to the ranch and she'd be able to access certain cell coverage once she was within a couple of miles. The section of highway traversing the ranch was slightly closer. She might find cell coverage sooner, but the coverage was spotty at best and she could wander miles out of her way to find a clear signal.

For the moment she told herself she was doing her best. It wasn't as if they could gallop through the root-studded trails. Muddy, for his part, didn't seem bothered by the uneven ground. He missed the roots efficiently and moved willingly at whatever pace she allowed. In fact, she thought, he'd been like this the entire ride. He didn't lag; he didn't jig or forge ahead. He waited for instructions and carried them out.

Good boy.

She patted his neck absently. It wasn't his fault they were making slow time. But she couldn't go any faster.

Why?

She hated voices in her head, especially when they weren't hers. This one belonged to Alec. He'd been in her head pretty much constantly since she'd met the man, and the thing that made his voice so aggravating was not that he was wrong or even right. It was that she'd grown to appreciate it. She'd started to trust it when she didn't even trust herself. The fact that she wanted to listen to this man, who had plenty of his own issues, irritated her inner self—the one who wanted help from nobody.

Why?

That voice was hers. Why should she trust him?

Because it was his doing that she wasn't sitting in her tiny apartment insisting she couldn't go out into the world. Because he'd arranged this long ride, this arduous task for her weak body, just so she could ride in the rodeo—something that was an obstacle in his own life.

Because he'd said he loved her.

Loved her! Heaven help her, she loved him right back. And if she loved him she must trust him, and if she trusted him she had to believe him.

Hadn't Alec said she could do anything she put her mind to doing?

She and Muddy broke out of the woods, and the long, sloping eastern meadowlands stretched before her. The choice had to be made here: go for the highway or head for home?

If she got back to the ranch, she wouldn't have to wander her way home from the highway. She could bed down the horse, connect with Dr. Ackerman and, more importantly, she could return to Alec and Rowan with the rescue crew and help with Alec's horse while he dealt with the dog.

Right. You're going to deal with the horse. You can't even ride this one.

Suddenly, she didn't much like her own voice anymore.

“Let's go home, Muddy,” she said. “But we have to go a little faster than we've been doing. I can do it if you'll keep your lope nice and easy on me. Okay?”

It took almost more mental energy than she had left to urge Muddy from a jog into a gentle lope. She had managed the gait in the confines of the round pen, but she didn't know Muddy or what he'd do given the chance to run on open ground. She should trust her riding skills, but that ship had sailed months before. All she could do was hope Muddy would forgive her awkwardness and not take off.

He lifted into a gentlemanly lope, his ears flicking back as he listened for further instruction. For a long minute she struggled with coordination. Her seat slipped and her thighs burned until she ended up pinching improperly with her knees to stay tight in the saddle. Her body fought against everything she knew was correct. Where the heck was her muscle memory? Riding was counterintuitive to the neophyte: sit up to stay in closer contact with the saddle, don't squeeze your legs to stay on, and don't pull back to slow down, use your seat and back. Nothing felt right—until it did.

Muddy's long, swooping lope was much swingier and level than Penny's had been. It rode like a BMW rather than a sporty little Audi. Comfortable and easy—yet filled with unleashed power. Joely sat up straighter and forced her weak leg back from where it had slipped out in front of the cinch. Immediately Muddy dropped his ear back as if to say “okay,” gave a quick snort, and dropped into a trot.

Joely let out a low whistle of appreciation for his training, but it was cut short when Muddy's next step took him into a slight depression. He hitched to compensate, Joely's left leg flopped away from the saddle leather and threw her off balance. In a split second she was sliding off the left side of the saddle smoothly and inevitably. She landed hard on her left hip and butt cheek with a splat. Instantly the storm's aftermath had her soaked but she was grateful the waterlogged prairie grasses had saved her from serious injury.

It still hurt.

And it sent her into helpless panic. Her nightmare had come true.

Every ounce of strength drained away, and hopelessness enveloped her the way it had the day the mustang foal had been born, and Joely lay on her back with sharp cold rain pricking at her skin and hot fat tears pouring down her temples. She didn't know where Muddy had gone and she didn't open her eyes to find out if he'd run off. She didn't care. She couldn't even go for damn help anymore because she was the one who constantly needed it herself.

Failure.

It blew in rapid fire bursts through her life and had ever since she'd won the Miss Wyoming pageant and allowed two men who saw her as pretty and delicate tell her what to do with her pageant winnings. She'd given it all away, along with her self-esteem.

The losses played through her mind for the millionth time. Her father, her husband and their marriage, the baby whose near weightlessness still weighed her arms down, and the horse. Now the dog—most likely. It was the same overwrought sadness—the same grief that seemed destined to control her emotions no matter how many steps she took to climb back out of her hole. At least this time Alec wasn't here to witness the weakness. She could remember his arms around her during that last breakdown and feel the mortification as he'd rocked her and said nothing—the one time she'd needed the man who'd given her unsolicited advice on everything to really fix something.

Nothing.

But he hadn't needed to; he'd
been
there. Been there with her and for her but not trying to fix things he couldn't and shouldn't fix. That was Alec Morrissey's great strength—he jumped in when he knew what he was talking about. He supported her silently when the battle had to be hers. Whether she liked it or not.

And he was still back there. Waiting for her. Trusting that she would do what she had the expertise to do. Her head swam. She wanted his arms around her again. Now. Now she understood how his silence could fix everything.

But it was her turn to buck up. She was the only one who could fix this, and the only thing holding her back was the little voice she'd allowed to make a home in her head that kept saying she couldn't.

A primitive cry full of frustration and pure anger burst from her lungs. She slammed her fist into the wet ground and pushed up onto her elbows. Something warm and dank-smelling nudged her cheek, startling her until she turned to the wet horse and started to laugh. Muddy snuffled curiously around her ear and snorted, adding horse sneeze to the rain still falling. She laughed harder and grasped the sides of the halter she'd put on under his bridle so she never had to tie him by the reins.

“Pull me up, big guy,” she said.

He didn't really obey, of course, but he snorted and backed away. Amazed, she used his weight as leverage and got to her feet. The instant she was fully upright, she threw her arms around Muddy's neck, burying her face in his wet coat, and letting his animal heat infuse her with strength and hope. He allowed the tight hold, bobbing his head and shaking it once to clear the rain from his face.

He wasn't Penny. But then, Alec wasn't Tim, and nothing else about her life was the same. Fine. She'd fallen off the horse. Figuratively and literally. They said you weren't a real rider until you came off at least once. Well then, she must be a damn good rider.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Now all you have to do is let me lean on you until we find a hillock I can use as a mounting block. That or you'll have to drag me all the way back to the barn.”

They found a perfect rise where she mounted from the wrong side. Muddy stood statue still, making her question her belief that he didn't really understand.

They galloped two long stretches on the way home. Once she decided she wasn't afraid to fall off again, the rest of her fear disappeared. She had the strength in her hips, after walking with crutches so much, to curve her thighs and calves around Muddy's broad sides, and she'd developed enough flexibility in her back to rock down into the saddle. Her left ankle and foot were less flexible, but she worked out how to compensate for not having them as shock absorbers—the same way Alec couldn't feel his prosthetic foot yet managed fine.

At last, within two miles of Rosecroft, Joely finally got service enough to call Harper. By the time she and Muddy made it to the barn, pain circulated through her body as if her blood were made of it and the breeze after the rain had chilled to her marrow. But the truck and trailer were ready to go, and a plan was in place. Her mother took Muddy, handed Joely a dry sweatshirt and pair of jeans, and despite what had to be her hideous, bedraggled sight, not a single person argued when Joely said she was going back with Cole and Gabe to pick up Alec and the dog.

That alone made the wild ride triumphant.

T
HE
FOLLOWING
S
ATURDAY
Alec rose from beside the giant dog bed and smiled at his oaf of a pet. She was the perfect convalescent. A lazy girl perfectly happy to be waited on hand and paw. Sadly, he was only too willing to give her anything she wanted. She'd be incorrigible if he didn't stop bringing her treats every five minutes.

He was just so grateful. One week ago, twelve stitches and a bandage on a badly bruised knee had been the result of her accident. She'd be restricted for another week, but she'd be fine. He looked out the window, knowing their savior would be there any second for lunch. She'd started her new job at the beginning of the week, and she was happier than he'd ever known her.

Unless it was when they were together in that physical and nearly spiritual bond they were perfecting at night . . . but he needed to stop thinking about that so much.

Or not.

He didn't hear her arrival in the car she was borrowing from Mia—to see if she was ready for her own. Since her ride to the rescue the past weekend, she finally seemed to believe she could do whatever she put her mind to. She'd taken to driving by herself like she'd never been fearful of the task, and each time she tried something new at work, her confidence took bigger leaps.

“Time for lunch!” she called, surprising both Alec and his dog, who jumped to her feet as Joely entered, wearing a backpack Alec suspected was loaded with goodies.

He grabbed Rowan's collar and forced her to sit. She wiggled like a two-year-old confined to a stroller.

“Hello, baby,” Joely cooed at the dog. “How's my girl?”

She stroked and kissed the dog until Alec cleared his throat. She looked up laughing. “Oh hi, you're here, too.”