by Valerie Parv
His look was long and heated. “You know what I want, and it has nothing to do with land or diamonds.”
With no answer to this she could live with, she settled at the controls. By the time she landed the Cessna near the homestead, the rain was sheeting down, making visibility hazardous. Between fighting to stay on course in the buffeting winds and rain, she felt exhaustion creeping up as they ran through the storm to the house.
Pulling down shutters to screen out the weather used her last reserves of energy. She was standing at the kitchen door, watching the rain pelt the thirsty ground, when Ryan began to massage her shoulders. “Mmm, feels wonderful,” she said.
“You’ll feel even better after you’ve showered and changed.”
“I don’t have the energy.”
“Then let me help.”
She didn’t resist when Ryan undressed her and helped her into the shower. “I should be the one taking care of you,” she said. “You got clobbered by a rock.”
“Fortunately, I have a hard head.” He adjusted the water to tepid and held the shower door open for her to step in.
She wasn’t embarrassed having him see her naked now. Too tired, she thought. Or perhaps too comfortable in his company. The thought made her push away from his supporting hand. “I can manage.”
“Dinner will be ready when you are. Take your time.”
Almost dozing off while dressing, she roused herself by putting in a call to Des and Blake at the crocodile farm. Cade had indeed decided to stay the night. He’d already told the others what had happened, saving her having to go into details. Her father required the most reassurance, and she couldn’t help worrying. He sounded so ill. But better he heard the story from the family than learned about it from the police tomorrow.
Ryan agreed when she rejoined him in the kitchen. She looked without enthusiasm at the chicken salad he put in front of her. “It looks great, but I’m too tired to eat.”
“Just a few bites,” he said in the manner of coaxing a child. “Feeding you is the least I can do after you saved my life.”
She picked at the chicken, managing to eat some, before putting her fork down. “I’ve never shot anyone before.” To her horror, her voice quavered.
He came around to her side of the table and lifted her to her feet. “Don’t fight your feelings. I’ve seen hardened police officers turn to jelly after their first live-fire incident. You’re definitely not hardened.”
“No,” she agreed, nuzzling closer, absorbing his strength. “Would you keep me company again tonight?”
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
Afraid to admit how long that might be, she nodded and let him guide her to a chair while he put the salads in the refrigerator and tidied the kitchen. He went around methodically locking the house, sensing her need for security. Then, with an arm around her shoulders, he took her to bed.
Although sex was the last thing she wanted tonight, she’d been prepared to let him make love to her in exchange for the comfort of his presence. But he surprised her in this, too. Setting aside the robe she shrugged off, he dropped a thigh-length cotton nightshirt styled like a man’s shirt over her head. He tucked her in and smoothed her hair back. “Give me a minute to shower, and I’ll be back to cuddle you to sleep.”
She nodded, her tension escalating inexplicably as he went into the bathroom. He was back in record time to ease himself into bed beside her. He wore only a pair of sleep shorts and his heated skin carried the scent of herbal shower gel. Wrapped in his arms, she was pulled against him. Finding herself almost instantly, powerfully aroused, she instinctively tried to turn to him, but he held her tightly. “No demands tonight, my Annie Oakley. You need to sleep.”
She needed him, she thought in astonishment, as desire stabbed through her as hot and bright as the lightning forking through the night sky. Knowing she loved him made her want him so much she could hardly stand it. Confusion coiled through her. Moments before, she’d been reluctantly ready to trade sex for comfort. Now what was her excuse?
“You’re still too tense,” he said, digging his fingers into her shoulders.
She arched like a cat. “This could get to be addictive.”
“No reason it shouldn’t. You know I’m willing.” His hands paused, then continued. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. I said no pressure, and I mean it.”
But the damage was done. Why couldn’t they just enjoy each other without worrying about forever? She didn’t need forever. She needed him tonight. Rock-solid, his arms around her to shut out the dreams she feared would come as soon as she closed her eyes. Seeing Horvath about to shoot Ryan was a nightmare she’d relive over and over, along with the kick of the gun as she fired first. How could anyone endure a lifetime of such roller-coaster emotions? The beloved didn’t have to be held at gunpoint. How could she stand waiting for him to come home, wondering what might have gone wrong to keep him from her?
How did anyone stand such torment?
Judy couldn’t decide what had awakened her. The storm continued its relentless drumming against the roof, and occasional jagged streaks of lightning bathed the room in flickering light. A weight lay across her hip. Ryan’s arm. He’d held her all night, soothing her through disturbing dreams that were fading with the dawn. She let them go.
She realized he was awake when his finger traced a lazy circle over her stomach under the nightshirt, making her muscles tighten. “Ryan?”
“Expecting someone else?” he teased.
Energy burned through her. Desire for him was so strong she had to turn over and find his mouth. “No one else.”
The kiss lasted a long, long time while he explored the rest of her with slow, deliberate strokes that made her quiver. She felt the surge of his arousal against her, and her own anticipation grew.
His hungry mouth devoured her eyelids, her cheeks, the slim column of her throat and finally, gloriously, her breasts in turn, suckling until she saw stars. Letting her head drop back, she felt her defenses crumble. She had no idea where they would go from here, but he would be part of her life somehow. Not only for this, but for everything else she sensed they could share.
She felt him kick his sleep shorts off. He’d already pushed up her nightshirt. Now she lifted her arms to let him remove it altogether. She wanted no barriers of any kind between them. Not even fear about the past or the future. Now was all that mattered.
Her mouth opened as his mouth became more demanding. His tongue plunged deeper and she drank greedily while her hands roamed where they would over his lean flanks and tumescent sex. His ragged intake of breath proved to her the effect her movements had on him.
His shudders thrilled her. He was hers to command. Was any power more intoxicating than this? To see a lion willingly surrender control to the tamer for no reason other than his own desire?
When he slid his hand down to where she trembled with need and irresistibly began to assuage that need, her mind spun out of control. “Make love to me now,” she urged, her tension so tight she couldn’t bear it.
“Soon.”
Then she was spinning through the stormy sky, whirling and tumbling into a supernova of delight. She had barely drawn breath from the wild ride when he slipped inside her at last and began to take her on a second, even more dizzying ascent to the summit.
Breath rushed through her like a river, catching and releasing as he moved with exquisite slowness, making her want to scream at him that she wasn’t fragile. She wouldn’t shatter if he went higher, faster, now, now, now.
Who was the tamer and who the tamed? she thought frantically. He had taken control so subtly, taunting her with the promise of pleasure so intense as to be barely endurable. Somehow she did endure it and much more at his behest, until the blood roared in her ears and her heart felt as if it must beat right out of her chest.
The last vestiges of restraint fled and all coherent thought was eclipsed by wave after wave of mind
-shattering sensation. Clinging to him, she felt him quake and heard him roar in triumph as the jungle prevailed.
Lying beside him, pleasantly aching and fulfilled, she had to struggle to gather her thoughts. She’d never totally loved before, and never thought she would, so what now? Did she let him go and resume her single life, the life she’d thought she wanted? Was it even possible after this?
If she felt so entangled now, what would marriage to him be like? She had a flash of herself in her mother’s shoes, worrying, imagining, sacrificing. Completely ignoring her own needs to give her all to husband and family. When Judy found herself starting to smile at the prospect, thinking it might not be so bad, she knew she was in trouble.
Beside her, Ryan slept deeply, a contented expression on his face. She resisted the urge to kiss him, needing some time to deal with her perturbing feelings. Careful to avoid waking him, she slid out of bed and pulled on a T-shirt, a pair of panties and jeans. The morning air would be cool after the storm. Sliding her feet into sandals, she padded out of the room.
She needed to breathe. Outside the air sparkled, the landscape cleansed by the rain. It would be even better after the wet season really took hold. Some people hated the drumming of rain day after day, isolating the land and forcing thoughts inward. Judy loved the Wet, seeing it as a greening and restoring time for herself, as well as the land.
Wanting to be close to her surroundings, she stepped off the veranda, skirting pools of water, until she stood beside the mended fences of the holding paddock. The dawn chorus of insects and birds giving thanks for the rain rang in her ears. She avoided looking at the destruction of the bunkhouse. It, too, would be restored in time.
Suddenly, bleakness swept over her. What if Horvath’s creditors managed to take this place? Her dreaming place. Ryan had ceded his claim to Cotton Tree Gorge and Max was on the run, but his creditors might yet bring them all down. How could she fret over her feelings for Ryan when so much more was at stake?
A sudden noise and a sense that she wasn’t alone made her peer into the shadows. Her pulse raced. “Who is it? Who’s there?” she demanded before a hand closed over her mouth.
Chapter 15
Panic swept through Judy and she clawed at the hand suffocating her, then felt the icy bite of metal behind her ear. Stop struggling and think, she ordered herself. Her captor could be only one person. Max, holding a gun to her head.
He dragged her backward, her sandals scrabbling for purchase on the muddy ground between the ruins of the bunkhouse and a cleared space used for car parking. Two cars were there, Ryan’s and an ancient Jeep kept as a workhorse. Now she recognized another shape.
Instantly, she understood what had awakened her earlier. In spite of the tumult, her pilot’s instinct must have registered the distant sound of the helicopter landing not far from the house. Ryan must have heard it, too, but had evidently thought no more about it than Judy had.
The hand on her mouth slackened and she dragged in a tortured breath. Max kept the gun jammed behind her ear as he forced her toward the bubble shape. “This isn’t going to work, Max,” she protested.
He jabbed her painfully with the gun. “It’s already working. I didn’t care which of you came with me, but since you conveniently nominated yourself, you can fly this thing. My hand hurt like hell getting here, thanks to you.”
“You’re crazy, I’m not flying anywhere.”
He tugged at her hair and she stifled a cry. “You’d rather I put a bullet through your bedroom window into Sleeping Beauty?”
Her heart threatened to stop as she pictured Ryan lying un-suspecting in the bed they’d shared so recently and recklessly. Max sounded deranged enough to carry out the threat. Her gorge rose at the thought of him playing Peeping Tom.
She didn’t let a flicker of expression betray her shock “Why should I care about Smith?” she asked with a deliberately casual lift of her shoulders.
Horvath’s mouth thinned. “He’s your lover, isn’t he?”
The question was oddly reassuring. If he had to ask, he didn’t know for sure. Somehow, that was important to her. Bad enough that he must have looked through the window and seen Ryan sleeping in her bedroom. She hated the thought of Max sullying one of the most perfect experiences of her life. “He’s a lover,” she dismissed.
Using his roughly bandaged hand, he prodded her viciously with the gun barrel. “Never mind, we’re wasting time. Get in and fly.”
Unable to think of an alternative that wouldn’t endanger Ryan, she climbed into the pilot’s seat of the two-seater Robinson 22. The parking area was hardly big enough for the rotor blades to clear. The R22 was used for mustering cattle because of its maneuverability. Of course, that was in the right hands. She had far fewer hours’ flying experience in a helicopter than a fixed-wing craft, but Max was in no mood to listen to reason.
He got in beside her, angling himself to keep the gun trained on her. When she reached for the safety harness, he snarled, “Forget that. Get going.”
Her temper flared. “This thing has no doors. I won’t be much use as a pilot if I fall out at five hundred feet.”
Her glare daring him to stop her, she snapped the belt and shoulder harness into place. She waited for him to do the same, but he evidently preferred to keep his gun arm unimpeded. Fine. If he chose to risk death, that was his business.
Flipping switches, she saw telltale glows and felt the rotors start to turn. Vibrations jarred her teeth. The turbine temperature gauge told her when the chopper was ready to lift off; then, with a stomach-lurching kick, they were airborne.
“Where to?” she yelled above the throb of the rotors.
“The gorge. I heard what the kid said about a map. We’re going to find it.”
“You’re nuts. The place will be flooded after last night’s downpour.”
He shook his head. “The kid was up on a ledge. There’s an inflatable boat on board. We’ll use that in the cavern.”
She couldn’t take the time to argue. Flying at low level through obstacles required all her concentration. They were at two hundred feet and should really be higher, but Max was urging her to stay low, making his point by jamming the gun into her side.
“You’re going the right way for us to end up nose-down in the ground,” she roared. Normally they’d use headsets to communicate, but if Max was too impatient for harnesses, he was unlikely to care about other niceties.
At least he pulled the gun barrel away from her side. At this rate, she’d have bruises on her bruises. He was watching for the escarpment above Cotton Tree Gorge, she assumed. She was doing the same. They were cruising at eighty knots. She applied aft cyclic to slow their airspeed for better ground observation. The craft bucked and she decided against increasing power. They had already slowed to just above fifty-three knots, the speed for minimum power in level flight, so she stayed ready to restore their rpms and prevent stalling.
Then a movement on the ground caught her attention. She almost lowered the collective lever in reaction, causing the stall she was so anxious to avoid.
Below them, Ryan was chasing the helicopter in his crazy jalopy, going faster than such a rust heap should be able to. Except it wasn’t a rust heap, she remembered, thinking of the turbo-powered Branxton engine he’d installed. He must have heard the chopper take off and decided to follow.
Exhilaration warred with fear. She hadn’t been scared for herself, being too furious at Max. Now as she saw him swivel the gun and take aim at Ryan’s car, she felt real terror coursing through her.
Without stopping to think, she pushed the helicopter into what was known as the deadman’s curve. Life-threatening to those on board and dangerous to the machine, it put them below a hundred feet and down to less than twenty knots airspeed. Experienced pilots used the tactic when mustering cattle amongst trees, but she wasn’t that experienced. Her heart rammed into her mouth as she applied enough pedal to slew them to the left and banked at the same time, finding herself hanging fro
m her harness at a forty-five degree angle.
Max wasn’t so fortunate. With nothing to grab on to as the machine tilted, he slid sideways, grasping at air as his seat dropped from under him. Man and gun plummeted through the opening and suddenly she had a fight on her hands to stay airborne as he grasped the skid and hung on.
She managed to wrestle the helicopter level again, pulling out of the feared stall. Given enough height, she could have landed the craft on propellers alone, without engine power. Like every pilot, she was trained to handle the critical maneuver called autorotation. But at this low level, she was more likely to plow them straight into the ground.
As it was, keeping the unbalanced craft aloft took every trick she knew and a few she improvised on the spot. They were down to treetop height, Max’s dangling legs brushing greenery as he tried to hang on.
Ryan’s first thought when he was half-awake and heard the chopper was that some last-minute mustering must be under way before the wet season set in. Only when he reached for Judy on the other side of the bed and found her gone had he come fully alert, putting two and two together.
Plunging into his pants and boots, he’d raced outside in time to glimpse her lifting off at the controls of an R22 with Max beside her brandishing a gun. Never had Ryan felt so helpless, knowing she was up there with a madman while he was on the ground, unable to lift a finger to help.
Think, he’d ordered himself. Max must have overheard Sunny talk about finding a map to the diamond mine and decided to force Judy to act as his guide. There was no way she would have gone willingly. The chopper’s heading had suggested Ryan was right.
He’d screamed away from the homestead in his car doing well over a hundred, only slowing down when he reminded himself that he couldn’t help Judy if he was dead. In the distance, the helicopter was flying dangerously low and slow. At the thought of her crashing, his heart spiked. If that happened, Horvath had better die with her because his life was over anyway, Ryan resolved. Last night had obliterated any possibility that Judy might not belong with him. They had fitted together like two halves of a whole. All she had to do was accept the fact. Any alternative was unthinkable.
