Midnight Rainbow

by Linda Howard

  “Easy,” he soothed, blowing his warm breath across her flesh. He wanted her so badly that he felt he would explode, but at the same time he couldn’t get enough of touching her, of watching her arch higher and higher as he aroused her. He was drunk on her flesh, and still trying to satiate himself. He took her nipple in his mouth and began sucking again, wringing another cry from her.

  Between her legs a finger suddenly penetrated, searching out the depths of her readiness, and shock waves battered her body. Something went wild inside her, and she could no longer hold her body still. It writhed and bucked against his hand, and his mouth was turning her breasts into pure flame. Then his thumb brushed insistently over her straining, aching flesh, and she exploded in his arms, blind with the colossal upheaval of her senses, crying out unconsciously. Nothing had ever prepared her for this, for the total, mind-shattering pleasure of her own body.

  When it was over, she lay sprawled limply on the tarp. He undid his pants and shoved them off, his eyes glittering and wild. Jane’s eyes slowly opened and she stared up at him dazedly. Grasping her legs, he lifted them high and spread them; then he braced himself over her and slowly sank his flesh into hers.

  Jane’s hands clenched on the tarp, and she bit her lips to keep from crying out as her body was inexorably stretched and filled. He paused, his big body shuddering, allowing her the time to accept him. Then suddenly it was she who couldn’t bear any distance at all between them, and she surged upward, taking all of him, reaching up her arms to pull him close.

  She never noticed the tears that ran in silvered streaks down her temples, but Grant gently wiped them away with his rough thumbs. Supporting his weight on his arms, sliding his entire body over her in a subtle caress, he began moving with slow, measured strokes. He was so close to the edge that he could feel the feathery sensation along his spine, but he wanted to make it last. He wanted to entice her again to that satisfying explosion, watch her go crazy in his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a raw, husky tone, catching another tear with his tongue as it left the corner of her eye. If he were hurting her, he wouldn’t prolong the loving, though he felt it would tear him apart to stop.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she breathed, stroking her hands up the moving, surging muscles of his back. Fine… What a word for the wild magnificence of belonging to him. She’d never dreamed it could feel like this. It was as if she’d found a half of herself that she hadn’t even known was missing. She’d never dreamed that she could feel like this. Her fingers clutched mindlessly at his back as his long, slow movements began to heat her body.

  He felt her response and fiercely buried his mouth against the sensitive little hollow between her throat and collarbone, biting her just enough to let her feel his teeth, then licking where he’d bitten. She whimpered, that soft, uncontrollable little sound that drove him crazy, and he lost control. He began driving into her with increasing power, pulling her legs higher around him so he could have more of her, all of her, deeper and harder, hearing her little cries and going still crazier. There was no longer any sense of time, or of danger, only the feel of the woman beneath him and around him. While he was in her arms he could no longer feel the dark, icy edges of the shadows in his mind and soul.

  In the aftermath, like that after a storm of unbelievable violence, they lay in exhausted silence, each reluctant to speak for fear it would shatter the fragile peace. His massive shoulders crushed her, making it difficult for her to breathe, but she would gladly have spent the rest of her life lying there. Her fingers slowly stroked the sweat-darkened gold of his hair, threading through the heavy, live silk. Their bodies were reluctant to leave each other, too. He hadn’t withdrawn from her; instead, after easing his weight down onto her, he’d nestled closer and now seemed to be lightly dozing.

  Perhaps it had happened too quickly between them, but she couldn’t regret it. She was fiercely happy that she’d given herself to him. She’d never been in love before, never wanted to explore the physical mysteries of a man and a woman. She’d even convinced herself that she just wasn’t a physical person, and had decided to enjoy her solitary life. Now her entire concept of herself had been changed, and it was as if she’d discovered a treasure within herself. After the kidnapping she had withdrawn from people, except for the trusted precious few who she had loved before: her parents, Chris, a couple of other friends. And even though she had married Chris, she had remained essentially alone, emotionally withdrawn. Perhaps that was why their marriage had failed, because she hadn’t been willing to let him come close enough to be a real husband. Oh, they had been physically intimate, but she had been unresponsive, and eventually he had stopped bothering her. That was exactly what it had been for her: a bother. Chris had deserved better. He was her best friend, but only a friend, not a lover. He was much better off with the warm, responsive, adoring woman he’d married after their divorce.

  She was too honest with herself to even pretend that any blame for their failed marriage belonged to Chris. It had been entirely her fault, and she knew it. She’d thought it was a lack in herself. Now she realized that she did have the warm, passionate instincts of a woman in love—because she was in love for the first time. She hadn’t been able to respond to Chris, simply because she hadn’t loved him as a woman should love the man she marries.

  She was twenty-nine. She wasn’t going to pretend to a shyness she didn’t feel for the sake of appearance. She loved the man who lay in her arms, and she was going to enjoy to the fullest whatever time she had with him. She hoped to have a lifetime; but if fate weren’t that kind, she would not let timidity cheat her out of one minute of the time they did have. Her life had been almost snuffed out twenty years ago, before it had really begun. She knew that life and time were too precious to waste.

  Perhaps it didn’t mean to Grant what it did to her, to be able to hold and love like this. She knew intuitively that his life had been much harder than hers, that he’d seen things that had changed him, that had stolen the laughter from his eyes. His experiences had hardened him, had left him extraordinarily cautious. But even if he were only taking the shallowest form of comfort from her, that of sexual release, she loved him enough to give him whatever he needed from her, without question. Jane loved as she did everything else, completely and courageously.

  He stirred, lifting his weight onto his forearms and staring down at her. His golden eyes were shadowed, but there was something in them that made her heart beat faster, for he was looking at her the way a man looks at the woman who belongs to him. “I’ve got to be too heavy for you.”

  “Yes, but I don’t care.” Jane tightened her arms about his neck and tried to pull him back down, but his strength was so much greater than hers that she couldn’t budge him.

  He gave her a swift, hard kiss. “It’s stopped raining. We have to go.”

  “Why can’t we stay the night here? Aren’t we safe?”

  He didn’t answer, just gently disengaged their bodies and sat up, reaching for his clothes, and that was answer enough. She sighed, but sat up to reach for her own clothes. The sigh became a wince as she became aware of the various aches she’d acquired by making love on the ground.

  She could have sworn that he wasn’t looking at her, but his awareness of his surroundings was awesome. His head jerked around, and a slight frown pulled his dark brows together. “Did I hurt you?” he asked abruptly.

  “No, I’m all right.” He didn’t look convinced by her reassurance. When they descended the steep slope to the floor of the gorge, he kept himself positioned directly in front of her. He carried her down the last twenty feet, hoisting her over his shoulder despite her startled, then indignant, protests.

  It was a waste of time for her to protest, though; he simply ignored her. When he put her down silently and started walking, she had no choice but to follow.

  Twice that afternoon they heard a helicopter, and both times he pulled her into the thickest cover, waiting until the sound had comple
tely faded away before emerging. The grim line of his mouth told her that he didn’t consider it just a coincidence. They were being hunted, and only the dense cover of the forest kept them from being caught. Jane’s nerves twisted at the thought of leaving that cover; she wasn’t afraid for just herself now, but for Grant, too. He put himself in jeopardy just by being with her. Turego wanted her alive, but Grant was of no use to him at all.

  If it came to a choice between Grant’s life and giving Turego what he wanted, Jane knew that she would give in. She’d have to take her chances with Turego, though it would be impossible now to catch him off guard the way she had the first time. He knew now that she wasn’t a rich man’s flirtatious, charming plaything. She’d made a fool of him, and he wouldn’t forget.

  Grant stepped over a large fallen tree and turned back to catch her around the waist and lift her over it with that effortless strength of his. Pausing, he pushed her tangled hair back from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle. She knew how lethal those hands could be. “You’re too quiet,” he muttered. “It makes me think you’re up to something, and that makes me nervous.”

  “I was just thinking,” she defended herself.

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “If Turego catches us…”

  “He won’t,” Grant said flatly. Staring down at her, he saw more now than just an appealing, sloe-eyed woman. He knew her now, knew her courage and strength, her secret fears and her sunny nature. He also knew her temper, which could flare or fade in an instant. Sabin’s advice had been to kill her quickly rather than let Turego get his hands on her; Grant had seen enough death to accept that as a realistic option at the time. But that was before he had known her, tasted her and felt the silky texture of her skin, watched her go wild beneath him. Things had changed now. He had changed—in ways that he neither welcomed nor trusted, but had to acknowledge. Jane had become important to him. He couldn’t allow that, but for the time being he had to accept it. Until she was safe, she could be his, but no longer. There wasn’t any room in his life for permanency, for roots, because he still wasn’t certain that he’d ever live in the sunshine again. Like Sabin, he’d been in the shadows too long. There were still dark spots on his soul that were revealed in the lack of emotion in his eyes. There was still the terrible, calm acceptance of things that were too terrible to be accepted.

  If things had gone as originally planned, they would have gotten on that helicopter and she would be safely home by now. He would never have really known her; he would have delivered her to her father and walked away. But instead, they had been forced to spend days with only each other for company. They had slept side by side, eaten together, shared moments of danger and of humor. Perhaps the laughter was the more intimate, to him; he’d known danger many times with many people, but humor was rare in his life. She had made him laugh, and in doing so had captured a part of him.

  Damn her for being the woman she was, for being lively and good-natured and desirable, when he’d expected a spoiled, sulky bitch. Damn her for making men want her, for making him want her. For the first time in his life he felt a savage jealousy swelling in his heart. He knew that he would have to leave her, but until then he wanted her to be his and only his. Remembering the feel of her body under his, he knew that he would have to have her again. His golden eyes narrowed at the feeling of intense possessiveness that gripped him. An expression of controlled violence crossed his face, an expression that the people who knew him had learned to avoid provoking. Grant Sullivan was dangerous enough in the normal way of things; angered, he was deadly. She was his now, and her life was being threatened. He’d lost too much already: his youth, his laughter, his trust in others, even part of his own humanity. He couldn’t afford to lose anything else. He was a desperate man trying to recapture his soul. He needed to find again even a small part of the boy from Georgia who had walked barefoot in the warm dirt of plowed fields, who had learned survival in the mysterious depths of the great swamp. What Vietnam had begun, the years of working in intelligence and operations had almost completed, coming close to destroying him as a man.

  Jane and her screwball brand of gallantry were the source of the only warmth he’d felt in years.

  He reached out and caught her by the nape of her neck, his strong fingers halting her. Surprised, she turned an inquiring glance at him, and the small smile that had begun forming on her lips faded at the fierce expression he couldn’t hide.

  “Grant? Is something wrong?”

  Without thinking, he used the grip he had on her neck to pull her to him, and kissed her full lips, still faintly swollen from the lovemaking they’d shared in the cave. He took his time about it, kissing her with slow, deep movements of his tongue. With a small sound of pleasure she wound her arms around his neck and lifted herself on tiptoe to press more fully against him. He felt the soft juncture of her thighs and ground himself against her, his body jolting with desire at the way she automatically adjusted herself to his hardness.

  She was his, as she’d never belonged to any other man.

  Her safety hinged on how swiftly he could get her out of the country, for he sensed Turego closing in on them. That man would never give up, not while the microfilm was still missing. There was no way in hell, Grant vowed, that he would allow Turego ever to touch Jane again. Lifting his mouth from hers, he muttered in a harsh tone, “You’re mine now. I’ll take care of you.”

  Jane rested her head against his chest. “I know,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THAT NIGHT CHANGED forever the way Jane thought of the darkness. The fear of being alone in the dark would probably always remain with her, but when Grant reached out for her, it stopped being an enemy to be held at bay. It became instead a warm blanket of safety that wrapped around them, isolating them from the world. She felt his hands on her and forgot about the night.

  He kissed her until she was clinging to him, begging him wordlessly for release from the need he’d created in her. Then he gently stripped her and himself, then rolled to his back, lifting her astride him. “I hurt you this morning,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You control it this time; take only as much as you’re comfortable with.”

  Comfort didn’t matter; making love with him was a primitive glory, and she couldn’t place any limits on it. She lost control, moving wildly on him, and her uninhibited delight snapped the thin thread of control he was trying to maintain. He made a rough sound deep in his throat and clasped her to him, rolling once again until she was beneath him. The wildly soaring pleasure they gave each other wiped her mind clear of everything but him and the love that swelled inside of her. There was no darkness. With his passion, with the driving need of his body, he took her out of the darkness. When she fell asleep in his arms, it was without once having thought of the impenetrable darkness that surrounded them.

  The next morning, as always, she awoke slowly, moving and murmuring to herself, snuggling against the wonderfully warm, hard body beneath her, knowing even in her sleep that it was Grant’s. His hands moved down her back to cup and knead her buttocks, awakening her fully. Then he shifted gently onto his side, holding her in his arms and depositing her on her back. Her eyes fluttered open, but it was still dark, so she closed them again and turned to press her face against his neck.

  “It’s almost dawn, honey,” he said against her hair, but he couldn’t force himself to stop touching her, to sit up and put on his clothing. His hands slipped over her bare, silky skin, discovering anew all the places he’d touched and kissed during the night. Her response still overwhelmed him. She was so open and generous, wanting him and offering herself with a simplicity that took his breath away.

  She groaned, and he eased her into a sitting position, then reached out to unzip the flap of the tent and let in a faint glimmer of light. “Are you awake?”

  “No,” she grumbled, leaning against him and yawning.

  “We have to go.”

  “I know.” Muttering s
omething under her breath, she found what she presumed to be her shirt and began trying to untangle it. There was too much cloth, so she stopped in frustration and handed it to him. “I think this is yours. It’s too big to be mine.”

  He took the shirt, and Jane scrambled around until she found her own under the blanket they’d been lying on. “Can’t you steal a truck or something?” she asked, not wanting even to think about another day of walking.

  He didn’t laugh, but she could almost feel the way the corners of his lips twitched. “That’s against the law, you know.”

  “Stop laughing at me! You’ve had a lot of specialized training, haven’t you? Don’t you know how to hot-wire an ignition?”

  He sighed. “I guess I can hot-wire anything we’d be likely to find, but stealing a vehicle would be like advertising our position to Turego.”

  “How far can we be from Limon? Surely we could get there before Turego would be able to search every village between here and there?”

  “It’d be too risky, honey. Our safest bet is still to cut across to the east coast swamps, then work our way down the coast. We can’t be tracked in the swamp.” He paused. “I’ll have to go into the village for food but you’re going to stay hidden in the trees.”

  Jane drew back. “Like hell.”

  “Damn it, don’t you realize that it’s too dangerous for you to show your face?”

  “What about your face? At least I have dark hair and eyes like everyone else. Don’t forget, that soldier saw you, and your pilot friend no doubt told them all about you, so they know we’re together. That long blond mane of yours is pretty unusual around here.”

  He ran his hand through his shaggy hair, faintly surprised at how long it was. “It can’t be helped.”

  She folded her arms stubbornly. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  Silence lay between them for a moment. She was beginning to think she’d won a surprisingly easy victory when he spoke, and the even, almost mild tone of his voice made chills go up her spine, because it was the most implacable voice she’d ever heard. “You’ll do what I say, or I’ll tie and gag you and leave you here in the tent.”