Текст книги "Only With A Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
“Yes, Father. He’s as worried about it as we are.”
“Can ye feel this strange energy?” he asked, looking back at the lake. “Still? It’s still here?”
“Yes.” She frowned at his back. “But instead of being strange, if feels…familiar some how.”
She shook her head when he spun toward her in surprise. “I know it’s not Matt’s or mine, but it seems to be…” She shrugged, tossing her hands up and letting them fall to her sides.
Daar stared at her for what seemed like forever, then suddenly sighed and stepped out onto the porch. “Come, then,” he said as he turned toward the stairs. “Show me the problem you’re having with yer staff.”
Winter ran out onto the porch and down the stairs to where Daar was standing in the middle of the clearing. “Every time I ask for something as simple as a fire to light,” she told him, pulling her pencil from her pocket, “everything but the twigs starts bursting into flames.”
Daar scurried to the side when she pulled out her pencil, positioning himself slightly behind her.
“There,” he said, pointing at a large boulder at the far end of the clearing. “Instead of asking for fire, see what happens when ye ask that rock to turn into a pebble.”
She pointed the pencil at the boulder, but Daar covered her hand with his. “Simply pictureit as a pebble, girl. Gently, very gently,” he warned, removing his hand.
Winter squinted at the boulder, pointed her pencil, and pictured a tiny round pebble sitting where the boulder stood. When nothing happened, she squinted harder, concentrated even more, and said, “Turn into a pebble!”
The boulder exploded with enough force to shake the ground as a million granite missiles spewed out in different directions. Winter grabbed Father Daar and threw them both to the ground, using her body to shield his.
Strong hands were on her within seconds, even as the tiny pebbles she’d created continued to fall. Winter was picked up, spun around, and hauled against a hard, half-naked chest as an unyielding broad hand covered her head.
She smiled into her husband’s chest, even as the last of the pebbles finally finished falling.
“Good morning,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him.
He lifted a brow. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
Winter lifted her own brow. “Did you hear enough to be satisfied I’m keeping my vows?”
He scowled at her. “I don’t doubt you’ll keep them. It’s Pendaär I don’t trust.”
“Saints and curses,” the old priest muttered, awkwardly climbing to his feet and brushing himself off. He turned, gasped hard enough to nearly knock himself over again, and stepped back. “Cùram,”he hissed, his hands balling into fists and his eyes narrowed in hatred.
Matt stepped away from Winter and inclined his head. “Pendaär,” he said, his tone civil. “It’s a privilege to finally meet the great drùidhof Pravad.”
“Pravad?” Winter repeated. “Where’s that?”
Both men ignored her, what with being so busy eyeing each other—Daar with a fierce scowl and Matt with an even fiercer grin. Winter stepped between them, speaking first to her husband. “You will stop presenting yourself like that,” she scolded.
He gave her an innocent look. “Like what?”
She waved at his clothing. “Like an ancient warrior drùidh. You do it on purpose, just to push people’s buttons.”
“My clothes were soaked,” he said, still appearing innocent, except for the sparkling gleam in his golden eyes. “You see, there was this sudden rainstorm on the way up, and I needed to change into something dry.”
Winter felt her cheeks redden. “Thank you for putting out the fire,” she whispered, quickly turning to Daar. “Quit your scowling, Father, and help us figure out why I can’t control the energy.”
Daar leaned slightly to the left, looking up at Matt standing behind her without letting go of his scowl. “There’s no reason she can’t control it, other than maybe she doesn’t want to,” he said smugly.
“But I do!” Winter insisted, turning to Matt. “I dowant to control it.”
Matt looked over her head at Daar. “Do you suppose it’s because she’s a woman?”
“Oh, of all the—” Winter stamped her foot. “Being a woman has nothing to do with anything!”
“Aye,” Daar said, scratching his beard as Winter spun to face him. He squinted past her to Matt. “That might be it,” he said with a nod. “The energy is used to responding to a man’s way of thinking. Women think different, ye know.” He finally looked at Winter and frowned. “Ye don’t think straight, girl. Women think in dizzying circles,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “You’re always talking yer way around a problem instead of hitting it straight on. Ye need to start thinking like a man if ye want to control the energy.”
“It was male thinking that got us into this mess,” she growled. “And circling a problem and looking at it from every perspective is what’s going to get us back on track.”
“Not if you keep blowing up the world one rock and tree at a time,” Matt said with a chuckle.
He pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her as they both faced Daar. “It will only take practice then,” he told the once-again scowling priest. “Winter and the energy are going to have to learn each other’s language. May I suggest that she work with you while I help MacBain and MacKeage figure out who else is in this game?”
Daar looked like he was having to force down another sour pickle, but he finally nodded curtly, turned, and silently walked back to his cabin, making a wide swing past Gesader, who was hiding under the porch.
Matt spun Winter in his arms to face him and gave her a hearty, passionate kiss on the mouth.
“Good morning, wife,” he whispered.
She patted his bare chest. “That was very sweet of you.”
He smiled. “My kisses are sweet?”
“No. What you just did for Daar.”
He reared back. “What did I do?”
She traced one finger through the soft hairs on his chest. “You let him keep his dignity by making him feel needed.”
“He is needed,” he snapped. “I can’t babysit you and hunt the strange energy at the same time.”
She kissed his chest, pulled away with a laugh, and started walking down the mountain.
“Sweetness isn’t a flaw but a strength,” she said, spinning toward him. When she heard him growl, she began walking backward. “And whether you want to admit it or not, I am married to a very sweetman.”
He suddenly waggled his fingers at her, and Winter stopped with a gasp and looked down at herself in surprise. She fingered the beautiful plaid she was suddenly wearing, which was draped over a lovely white cotton blouse.
The plaid had a base color of deep flannel gray, with wide forest green stripes running in one direction, and narrow yellow and red stripes running in the other. She looked back at Matt, only to find him standing three feet away.
“This—this is the Gregor plaid?”
“Aye,” he said, smiling in approval. “It’s time you started wearing my colors.”
“Papa is going to throw a fit,” she whispered, looking down at the way the plaid draped over her shoulders like a shawl and gathered around her waist before falling all the way past her knees, all being held into place by a thick leather belt. She bent slightly and looked down at her legs, finding them covered by tall suede leggings that turned into leather-soled shoes.
She looked up at Matt. “Ah, maybe I should have a jumper and some shirts made out of it instead.” She gave him a daring smile. “Thank you. Getting me out of my wet clothes was a very sweetthing to do.”
That said, Winter turned tail and bolted down the steep mountain path, squealing in delight when Matt caught up with her. Without breaking stride, her husband tossed her over his shoulder and proceeded to carry her down the mountain, and he didn’t even snicker when they passed through the burnt remains of her little forest fire.
She was married to a very sweet man, and Winter knew she had more than enough hope for them both.
Chapter Twenty-three
W inter dipped her fingerin the bowl of whipped potatoes, tasted her progress so far, and decided she needed to add more butter. She plopped in several more tablespoon’s worth and started the beater again, smiling as she listened to her mama and Megan arguing over how to get the lumps out of the gravy.
It was hard for Winter to believe she had been married five whole weeks. She and Matt were living at Gù Brath because not four days into her marriage, Winter had lost her first real fight with her husband. She had been soundly defeated, though Matt’s getting her family, Robbie, and even old Tom involved in their little domestic dispute hadn’t been fighting fair.
Winter had wanted to move into the cave while they built their home, arguing that it was cozy and warm and had everything she and Matt needed. Her parents and Megan had been appalled to think she would even consider living in a cave all winter, Robbie had flat out told her she was crazy, and Tom had laughed himself silly and immediately taken Matt’s side.
Which was why for the last five weeks, Winter had spent her time getting her gallery ready for the fast-approaching Christmas shopping season, and Matt had been putting in twelve-hour days getting a road cut through the forest and having a small cottage built down on the lake below the meadow. Once their permanent home was finished up on the mountain—in about two years, Matt had estimated—the lakeshore cottage could then become their summer retreat. But even while waiting to get a temporary home built, Matt had been adamant about not having his pregnant wife living in a cave. So he had been pushing himself and his construction crew to get their cabin done by Thanksgiving, and trying to help Robbie and her papa hunt down the strange energy still lurking about.
There had been yet another puzzling incident since the pine had been cut, this time involving their precious cave. When Winter and Matt had gone out to see what could be salvaged from her accidental fires—and maybe find some privacy for some noisylovemaking—the cave was gone.
The soaring granite cliff was still towering over the meadow, but the entrance to the cave had disappeared. No matter how hard Matt repeatedly tried using whatever powers or spells he could conjure up, he couldn’t make the entrance reopen.
So for the last five weeks Winter had been dividing her time between the gallery, visiting Daar for her lessons on wizardry, and helping her mama collect furnishings for their nearly completed cottage.
The gallery was getting busy, her lessons with Daar were proving more frustrating than helpful, and Winter didn’t much care if her curtains matched her table linens or not. She just wanted to get moved out of Gù Brath so she could make love to her husband without worrying about her papa breaking down her bedroom door.
Gesader was still lurking about, although he’d been spending more time with Megan than with either Winter or Matt. And though her papa kept putting the panther out every night when they all went to bed, Megan had confided to Winter that Gesader would be up on the garage roof within minutes, and she would let him in her window so he could curl up on the bottom of her bed and keep her feet warm.
Winter still couldn’t bring herself to tell Megan that Gesader was really an ancient highland warrior. At first, once she’d realized the implications, Winter had been appalled to think she’d been so cozy and cuddly with her husband’s brother for over two years. She had remembered swimming—
naked!—in the high mountain pond with her pet, confiding her deepest secrets to him, and even telling him about her terrible dates with men who had thought they were God’s gift to women.
Matt had laughed at Winter’s outrage and asked if she thought he would have sent the panther here if it truly was his brothersharing her bed. When Kenzie was an animal, Matt had explained, he was nothing more than the creature he embodied, albeit an exceptionally intuitive creature. Megan was safe, Matt had assured Winter, at least until the upcoming solstice. Then all bets were off, he’d said with a very male grin. Once Kenzie was back to his old self, he would certainly find his way back into Megan’s bed.
As for Megan, her belly had popped out almost overnight, and she’d begun wearing maternity pants and baggy tops. She seemed to have come to terms with her pregnancy and hardly ever cried anymore. In fact, she was finally so mad at Wayne Ferris, Winter feared Megan was thinking of hunting him down and dispatching his black heart to hell herself.
Winter carried the huge bowl of potatoes from the kitchen and put it down on the large dining room table that was set to serve seven for Thanksgiving. Father Daar was already seated—toward the head of the table right beside her papa’s place, probably just to aggravate him—and the old priest had his napkin tucked in his collar and was already holding his fork.
“Who’s the seventh place for?” he asked, frowning down the empty table.
“Tom,” Winter told him, straightening one of the napkins. “He’s been here for the last two Thanksgivings, remember?”
“I remember he ate more than he talked.”
“Just like someone else I know,” she said, rolling her eyes and heading toward the living room, but having to stop when Daar spoke again.
“He’s late,” the priest said. “It’s impolite to make us wait. The food’s getting cold.”
“We’re starting, Father,” Winter assured him. “If we wait any longer, Tom will be embarrassed to have held us up.”
Daar harrumphed and Winter stepped into the living room to find her papa and husband deep in conversation, sitting facing each other in front of the brightly burning hearth. She smiled with quiet joy.
Who would have thought the two men she most loved in the world would end up getting along so well considering their precarious beginning? But whenever Matt wasn’t away on company business, he and her papa had been scouring both Bear and TarStone Mountain with Robbie, looking for whoever—or whatever—was interfering in their business of saving mankind.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said softly.
Both men looked over, smiled, and stood up. “What parts did you cook?” Matt asked, walking up and kissing the tip of her nose. “So I know what to avoid.”
“I cooked the turkey and the potatoes and the squash,” she said, giving him a smug smile when he groaned. “I waved my pencil over the turkey just before I put it in the oven.”
It was her papa who groaned this time, as he stopped on his way to the dining room and glared at Matt. “I thought ye took that damned thing away from her.”
Matt grinned. “She’s learned enough to keep it hidden from me,” he said in his own defense.
He looped his arm over Winter’s shoulder and guided her back into the dining room just as Megan and Grace showed up carrying more bowls of food.
“The turkey’s on the counter,” Grace said, sitting down on the left side of her husband’s place, opposite Daar. “Would you get it, Grey?”
“Tom’s not coming?” Matt asked, holding first Winter’s chair and then Megan’s as they sat down. But instead of sitting beside Winter, he then walked around the table and sat next to a scowling Father Daar.
“If Tom shows up, we’ll feed him,” Grace said, placing her napkin on her lap. “But everything was getting overcooked, so we’re starting without him. Father,” she said when Grey set the enormous turkey on the table and sat down, “would you say grace, please?”
“I blessed the food while it was cooking,” Daar said, reaching for the bowl of potatoes. “We can begin eating.”
Winter quickly slid the potatoes out of his reach. “Then maybe you could bless us,”she suggested.
“All of us?” he asked, darting an uncharitable glance at Matt before glaring back at Winter.
“I hope I don’t drop the pumpkin pie when I bring it out,” she said, keeping her hand on the bowl of potatoes.
Daar snapped his gaze down to his empty plate, folded his hands together, and said, “We ask ye God, to bless all the goodpeople here today, that we might finally get to enjoy yer bounty. Amen. Let
’s eat.”
Apparently eating was more important than worrying about sitting down to dinner with the enemy, and Daar took the casserole, spooned himself a huge helping, and bypassed Grey by handing it directly to Grace, obviously not wanting to interrupt the carving. “I’ll take that leg and thigh, Laird, if ye’
re wanting to get it out of yer way,” Daar said, holding his plate toward Grey. “And some of that stuffing.”
“So, Matt,” Grace said as she passed Winter the casserole, “have you found a way into your cave yet? Or do you think it even still exists?”
“I can feel an energy coming from inside the cliff,” Matt told her as he took the cranberry sauce from Megan. “But only sometimes, and usually at night.”
“You’ve been going to the cliff at night?” Winter asked in surprise. “When?”
“I misspoke,” he told her. “I mean in the early morning, just before dawn. I often stop by on my way to check the progress on our cottage, just to see if anything’s changed at the cliff.” He looked over to include Grey. “If I place my hands on the rock and concentrate, I can make out a vibration coming from inside.” He looked to the far wall, and Winter saw him rub his fingers together on his right hand.
“Actually, the granite feels unusually warm, and I can hear faint tapping sounds coming from inside.” He looked back at Grey and shook his head. “I’ve tried to place the sound, but I can’t.”
“So you think something is going on in there?” Megan asked. “That the cave still exists and someone is working inside it?”
Daar stopped stuffing food in his mouth long enough to glare at Matt. “Who else have ye angered over the centuries?” he asked.
Matt looked startled. “No one,” he said. “I haven’t angered anyone…else.”
“The vibration you felt,” Winter asked, drawing his attention. “Is it the same energy we sensed near the pine?”
“It feels the same,” Matt said, though he was shaking his head. “Whoever it is, he’s much more powerful than either of us, I’m afraid. He’s able to cloak his identity even from me, and he’s made the cliff impervious. I tried getting inside from a different direction, but I couldn’t get within ten feet of the original cave.”
Winter grinned crookedly. “You keep calling the energy a ‘he.’ Maybe it’s a ‘she.’ Maybe that’
s why you can’t wiggle your way around her power.”
“Neither can you.”
“Not yet,” she said, filling her fork with potato and popping it into her mouth, smiling at Matt’s frown as she chewed.
Daar stopped eating long enough to ask Matt another question. “What were ye doing up on TarStone yesterday? Ye made a terrible racket that shook the mountain hard enough to knock my lantern off its peg, and ye caused a landslide that missed my cabin by only a few yards.”
Again, Matt looked surprised, then suddenly turned narrowed eyes on Winter. She quickly popped some turkey into her mouth, chewed, then said, “Megan, would you pass me the cranberry sauce, please?”
“Winter?” Matt growled.
At the sound of the doorbell, Winter rose to answer the door. “Hello, Tom. We’d given up on you, I’m afraid, and have already sat down to eat.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling off his cap and inclining his head in apology. “I lost track of time.”
He looked toward the dining room. “Is there anything left?”
“There won’t be if you don’t beat Daar to the dessert,” she said with a laugh, slipping her arm through Tom’s to escort him into the dining room once he hung up his coat.
“I’m sorry,” Tom repeated to the table of people as he walked over to the empty chair beside Matt. “I lost track of time,” he told them, a gleam in his eyes as he looked at Winter. “I got involved working on Winter’s birthday gift.”
“Oh,” she said, clasping her hands in delight and looking up the table at her parents. “Tom is carving something special for my birthday. He’s keeping it under a sheet in his workshop and won’t let me in, but I saw just enough to know it’s nearly as large as a small car. Tom, there’s really no reason to wait to give me my gift.”
Tom chuckled as he began filling his plate with food. “I know it’s quite a difficult concept for you to imagine, Winter, but patience can be a useful virtue.” He gave her a wink, then scanned his gaze up the table. “Did any of you hear that loud noise on the summit of TarStone yesterday morning? I was hiking into town and I swear I heard thunder, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.” He looked at Matt.
“At first I thought it was your jet breaking the sound barrier, but I saw you driving down to your cabin not ten minutes later.”
“I heard it,” Daar piped up between bites before anyone could answer. “Something caused a powerful landslide that pretty near cleaned out my cabin.”
“It could have been seismic activity,” Megan quickly offered with a smile, reaching over and poking Winter’s thigh. “We get tremors every now and then, when the land rebounds from the weight of the old glaciers.”
“Even a small tremor could trigger a landslide,” Grace added, winking at Winter.
Winter just kept eating, deciding that maybe she should start driving to the next county to practice her magic. She had been able to master some things, like masking her own vibrations of energy at least enough to hide her pencil from Matt. And she had finally conquered fire—well, mostly. But learning to think like a man was about as likely as her learning patience.
“I have an announcement,” Matt said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Our cottage is finished. It cost me a bundle in bonuses, but the crew pounded the last nail and put on the final coat of paint yesterday afternoon. We can move in tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow is the first official shopping day of Christmas, and my busiest day of the year,”
Winter said. “And both Megan and Mama have to help me out in the gallery. We can’t move in tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to lift a finger,” Matt said. “I’ll move us in.”
“And hang the curtains?” Grace asked, giving Matt a skeptical look. “And unpack all the boxes and set up the kitchen and bathroom? We’re going to be busy right up until Christmas.”
“Don’t you wish there really was such a thing as magic?” Tom interjected with a smile. “That we could just wave a magic wand and make everything happen just like that?” he said, snapping his fingers in the air.
Winter could only blink at her friend, and when she looked over and saw the gleam in Matt’s eyes, had to cover her mouth with her napkin so she wouldn’t burst into laughter.
Yes, if only they had a magic wand…or two.
Matt sat on the couch facing the brightly burning fieldstone hearth that dominated the north wall of their cozy three-room cottage, frowning at his wife draped across his lap. “You aren’t falling asleep on me, are you?” he asked, giving her a small shake. “This is our first night in our very own home. We should be dancing naked in front of the fire.”
“You dance,” she said drowsily, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “I’ll watch.”
“Poor baby. Hard day at work?” He tenderly stroked her thigh. “Were you sick again today?”
“Only queasy, because I didn’t have time to throw up,” she said with a tired sigh. She looked at him and smiled. “I did finally call Heather, and she said having morning sickness is a good sign that the baby is settling in for a long and happy stay.”
“Heather’s the doctor, right? Your oldest sister who lives in California?” He laid his hand across her flat stomach when she nodded, his fingertips spanning her waist from hip to hip. “Seven daughters,”
he said with a chuckle. “Your poor papa.” He smiled when she frowned. “You’re not going to take after your mama, I hope. I want at least a few sons.”
“It’s the man who donates the Y chromosome,” she told him, her frown deepening as she wiggled around to see him better. “How come you know so much about the twenty-first century, about stuff like physics and business?”
“I’ve been living here for almost three years now.”
“Since Kenzie came? You came here when he did?”
“No, shortly after.”
“Did you come to Pine Creek? How come I never saw you?”
“I only came here four times a year, and stayed just the twenty-four hours Kenzie was human.
The rest of the time I spent out in the world, learning as much as I could about modern society and technology, gathering wealth and knowledge while waiting for when you were ready.”
“Ready? For what?” she asked in surprise.
“Me,” he said, leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose. “And actually, you did see me a few times in the last couple of years.” He nodded toward the hearth, to the large painting hanging over the mantel. “Even though I was damn good at masking myself, you were still able to sense my energy. I’
m right there in Moon Watchers,in the top left corner.” He frowned when she looked from the painting to him. “I don’t like that you made me a fairy, and I’ve a mind to make you repaint my image.”
She lifted her chin. “Artists do not change their vision to suit picky patrons. I sensed a warm, sweetspirit that night, and that’s what I painted. You don’t like it, hang it back in the gallery. I could probably get double what you paid for that painting the way business was today.”
Matt pulled her more tightly against his chest. “I am not selling Moon Watchers.” He kissed her nose again. “And I am not sweet.”
She looked around their perfectly furnished living room, then brought her gaze back to his and lifted her brow. “I would say busting your butt to get us moved in today without using your magic makes you sweet.”
“It wasn’t sweetness motivating me, it was lust,” he said, lifting her shoulders to kiss her full on the mouth this time. “I worked my tail off to get us moved in here, so I can finally make you scream again without worrying about your father charging in on us with his sword.”
His wide-eyed little wife giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Papa’s been living in this time over thirty-seven years, and he still sleeps with his sword by his bed.” She kissed the pulse on Matt’s neck, then grinned up at him. “I’ve noticed you’re in the habit of placing your fountain pen on the beside table. Maybe I should start sleeping with my pencil.”
Matt involuntarily shuddered. “Lord, lass, don’t do that. You’ll burn down our home and we’ll have to move back in with your parents.”
She ran her fingers through his loose hair, making him shudder again. “It was rather exciting trying to make love without making any noise,” she whispered. “Maybe even decadent. I liked doing it in the shower with the water running.”
Matt smiled sadly. “Too bad you’re so tired. I planned to try out the hot tub on the front porch tonight,” he said with a sigh as he leaned his head against the back of the couch.
But he quickly snapped forward with a surprised grunt when his suddenly wide-awake wife squealed in delight and scrambled off his lap. “We have a hot tub?” she cried. “Why didn’t I see it when I came home?”
Home. Matt decided he liked the sound of that, especially when Winter said it. “Because you came in through the back door,” he explained, leaning against the couch again and lifting one brow. “Get a second wind, did you?”
But he was talking to her back, as Winter ran out the front door. Matt got up with a rather tired sigh of his own. Moving an entire household in one day hadn’t been easy, especially considering that he’d only resorted to using his magic toward the end, when it had looked like he wouldn’t get done by the time Winter got home. He followed his wife onto the porch that overlooked the lake, and found her already stripped down to her bra and pants.
“Quick, get undressed,” she said as she kicked off her shoes, unfastened her pants, shoved them down her legs, and stepped out of them. She stopped in the process of unclipping her bra. “The tub is all warmed up, isn’t it?”
“It’s warm,” Matt said, unbuttoning his own shirt. “Wind up your braid so it won’t get wet.
The…ah, hot tub won’t hurt the baby, will it?”
“No,” she said, tossing her bra away and sliding her thumbs under the elastic of her panties. “As long as it’s not too hot, and I don’t stay in too long.”
Matt had a little more trouble unfastening his own suddenly tight pants, and had to sit down to unlace his boots—and hopefully get control of his lust before neither of them reached the tub. But he only ended up making knots in his laces instead of undoing them, when he spotted his naked wife with her arms raised to twine her hair on top of her head, bathed in the soft light coming through the huge front windows.
She was so stunningly beautiful, so vivaciously alive and filled with such innocent promise, that sometimes Matt found himself wondering if this was nothing more than a dream.
Or maybe it was hell. Maybe Providence was punishing his sins by giving him just a taste of Winter—offering him this one small glimpse of hope—before it all disappeared just as suddenly as the entrance to his cave had. Aye, maybe the energy he felt coming from inside the cliff was really an avenging angel, waiting for just the right time to deliver his deathblow.
If that was the case, then so be it. Matt had placed his future in Winter’s delicate hands, and he had four weeks left before he met his fate face on. He would damned well meet it with the courage of a warrior.
But in the meantime, he had every intention of basking in the warmth of Winter’s hopefulness, regretting none of his actions that had ultimately brought him to her. She would at least save his brother, Matt knew, and protect their child at all costs—even if it meant destroying him—because her strength of spirit would not allow her to do anything less.
As long as there was life there was hope, she’d told him in the cave the day after he’d claimed her, and at this single moment in time Matt felt more alive than he had in centuries.
“Oh, this is heavenly,” Winter breathed, sliding into the warm swirling water up to her neck.
“Run inside and turn out the lights so we can see the lake and the stars.”
Matt gave up and tore his laces free, finished stripping off his clothes, reached inside and hit the light switch beside the door, and quickly climbed in the tub.
“I’m so glad I was smart enough to marry a sweet man who’s enamored with modern technology,” she said, floating toward him until she was just barely straddling his thighs. Matt’s eyes had adjusted to the starlight enough that he could make out her smile when she asked, “How far are we from Tom’s cabin?”
