When I Found You (A Box Set)

by Webb, Peggy

  “I take it you like those things?”

  “Yes... I like them.”

  “That’s a great start. You like me and I like you. We’re going to have a wonderful marriage, Virginia.”

  “See. There you go again.” She jumped up from her chair and stalked around the room. She was in such a fizz, she didn’t even notice that her belt had come loose and her robe was flapping open.

  Bolton caught the edges of her robe and maneuvered her to the front of his chair. Then he held her there, robe parted, devouring her with his eyes.

  She didn’t struggle against him. She’d never win in a contest of strength against a man the size of Bolton. Furthermore, she didn’t want to win. She wanted to stand exactly where she was, with her body and every one of her secrets exposed.

  His eyes held hers, and she felt the quick, hot rush of desire.

  “This is not fair,” she said.

  “All’s fair in love and war.”

  “Is this love or war?”

  “Both, I think...” He thoroughly kissed her. “In that order,” he murmured.

  She wouldn’t argue with that, couldn’t argue with that. If her easy acquiescence made her weak and selfish, she didn’t care. She had come to the cottage to end the affair. There was no future for the two of them, but they had the moment, and it was too precious to be thrown away.

  “Love me... please... tonight I don’t want to think, I don’t want to talk.” She wove her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. “Tonight, just love me.”

  He eased her robe off her shoulders, and it pooled at their feet. Pulling her close, he tipped up her chin.

  “You ‘re the most exciting woman I’ve ever known.” He ravished her with a kiss, and as he lowered her to the rug, he whispered, “It will always be this way with us, Virginia, love and war.”

  “Shhh, don’t talk, not yet.” She pulled him fiercely to her.

  They loved as if they’d waited a lifetime for each other, loved until their bodies were slick with sweat and glistened in the glow from the fire. They loved until the first faint fingers of dawn turned the windows soft shades of rose and gold.

  Bolton wrapped Virginia’s robe around her shoulders and pulled her onto his lap.

  Suddenly she was too full to speak. He rocked her, smoothing her damp hair and murmuring love words to her in Athabascan.

  “I never did learn that language.”

  “You will.”

  She didn’t deny him yet. She wasn’t strong enough. She would close her eyes for a moment, gathering strength in a catnap, and then she’d tell him good-bye.

  Bolton watched her sleep. He knew why she had come, knew it with a certainty that required no words. The interview was finished. Now there was only one reason to stay in Mississippi—Virginia.

  He’d always been supremely confident that whatever he wanted, he could have, either by hard work or patience, or sometimes merely by the sheer force of his will. But he’d never met anyone like Virginia. For the first time in his life he couldn’t predict the outcome.

  Her face was damp and dewy from their lovemaking and the glow of the fire. Tenderly he touched her cheek, then he licked her scent off the tips of his fingers. She stirred, smiling in her sleep and snuggling closer to him. He joined their hands, and her fingers automatically curled around his. Conscious, she might deny her feelings, but unconscious, she melted into him as naturally as the snows of spring melted into Mother Earth.

  Suddenly he knew the outcome, he could predict the future. Virginia would be his no matter how long it took to win her.

  She woke with a start.

  “What time is it?”

  “Just after dawn.”

  “I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

  “I’ll escort you back if you want to go now. Candace is probably not awake yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Candace knows.”

  Virginia went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She didn’t dare look in the mirror. Every night took its toll for the years would not be denied. They extracted their due no matter how much she paid for products with names such as line preventer and repair complex. Why didn’t the cosmetic companies just get realistic and call the night cream damage control?

  Bolton was still sitting on the rug with the fire burnishing his light copper-colored skin. She leaned against the bathroom door and drank in the sight of him. Even after a marathon session of sex, she still wanted him, wanted him with such hungry desperation that she had to bite the inside of her lip.

  “Would you like something to eat?” he asked. “I’ll make scrambled eggs and toast.”

  “No, thank you. I want to suffer.”

  Bolton stood up and propped his elbow on the fireplace, towering over her, gloriously naked.

  “Would you please put on some clothes?”

  “Do I distract you, Virginia?”

  “You know you do.”

  “You said you wanted to suffer.” His smile was without mirth.

  “Not that much.”

  They locked eyes, and she was the first to look away. “You could join me,” he said. “Slip your robe off, Virginia. I want to see you naked once more in the morning sun.”

  “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

  “I don’t give up at all. Did you think I would?”

  Chapter Nine

  She really hadn’t known what to expect. In spite of her vast experience with men in the fantasy world, she’d had very little in the real world. Roger had been her first man, and after he had left she’d been too busy raising Candace and carving out a career to develop another relationship, even if she’d wanted to. It took years to get the bitter taste of her first disastrous marriage out of her mouth, and when she thought she had recovered, good old Harry had led her down another boulevard of broken dreams.

  “Scared, Virginia?”

  “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “Your face told me.”

  She put her hands on her cheeks. “I’m not scared of you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “You have no reason to be afraid of me. Not now, not ever.”

  “There you go again. Assuming a future for us.”

  “It was no assumption. It’s fact. There is a future for us, Virginia.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Fate never makes mistakes.”

  “I’ve met at least a dozen men who would have made my life a constant catastrophe. And I probably would have given my share of grief back to them. How do you know fate didn’t send them my way?”

  “What did your heart tell you?”

  She batted at the air as if she were swatting flies.

  “I’d be in a pretty pickle if I’d listened to my heart. It was so broken when Roger left that all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there. But I didn’t.” She balled her hands into fists and thrust out her chin. “I don’t listen to my heart, Bolton. I listen to my head.”

  Bolton wanted to pick her up and ride off on one of her white Arabians. His gut instinct told him that the only way he could ever make Virginia listen to her heart was to take her captive, to get her away from computers and cars and microwave ovens and all the other machines that cluttered up her life. He always went back to nature when he needed to understand the message of his heart.

  If he had spent a few days in the mountains thinking, he’d never have bought Janice a ring. Fortunately, he’d corrected that mistake before it was too late.

  Was it too late to keep Virginia from making a mistake that would cost them the future?

  “Come with me, Virginia.”

  “Where?”

  “Back to Arizona, back to the mountains and the rivers and the forests, back to a place where man can understand the messages of the heart.”

  Almost, his vision seduced her. Almost she could believe that what he said was true.

  “It’s tempting.”

  “Come, Virginia.”

 
Bolton held out his hand. One of her philosophies had always been take the risk and the angels come. Over and over she had taken giant leaps of faith. But she and Candace had been the only ones affected by her decisions. This time it was different. She couldn’t take a risk that had such sweeping consequences for a man who had the best part of his life ahead of him.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking, Bolton.”

  “I know exactly what I’m asking. I’m asking you to marry me.”

  “Is that your head talking or your heart?”

  “Both.” He stared at her with a fierce and tender regard that forbade challenge. “To deny your heart is a tragic mistake, Virginia. Don’t make a second one.”

  She held her breath as he watched her. To speak now would be to deny Bolton the right to make his case.

  Say something, she silently screamed at him. Say something to make me believe in us.

  As if he had read her thoughts, he began to speak.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I haven’t given this matter any thought. I take love and marriage very seriously. It doesn’t take forever to recognize the things you would bring to a marriage. Love. Passion. Laughter. Warmth. Intelligent conversation. Intellectual stimulation. Companionship.”

  Virginia’s hope began to shrivel and die. What he’d said was not enough.

  “What about children?” she whispered.

  For a split second his face was naked, and she saw the thing that scared her most.

  “You want children, don’t you, Bolton?”

  “I’ll have a child—Candace.”

  “I’m talking about a child with your genes, Bolton... a child you can watch grow, a child you can teach to fish and ride and speak in the beautiful language of your people. That’s the kind of child you want.”

  More than anything she wanted a quick denial from Bolton. She wanted him to say that children didn’t matter, that she was enough for him. His silence was more painful than words. Virginia squeezed her hands so hard, the nails bit into her flesh.

  All the other problems she’d named could be overcome, but this one was insurmountable. This one, alone, was enough to make a man as young and virile as Bolton turn tail and run from a woman her age.

  Sometimes silence is a sword, slaying without words.

  “I won’t deny it, Virginia,” Bolton finally said.

  “Let’s end this as gracefully as possible... Goodbye, Bolton.” Virginia stood up, uncertain that her legs would support her on the long walk to the door.

  Bolton held her captive with his eyes. She could do nothing but stare into their impossibly blue depths as he stalked her.

  “That was before I met you, before I knew that a woman can be everything a man needs.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, then pulled her close. “You’re everything I need, Virginia, everything I want.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I won’t do that to you. I won’t deny you the joys of fatherhood.”

  “Childbearing is no longer the exclusive privilege of the young.”

  “I had a hysterectomy six years ago.”

  Her barrenness settled over her like a hair shirt, and she was suddenly overtaken with sadness. There was something magical in being able to bear a child, something that made a woman feel feminine and complete.

  “It doesn’t matter, Virginia.”

  The fraction of a second she waited for his denial told her all she needed to know.

  “Of course, it matters! You deserve everything, Bolton, a wife who can climb mountains with you and not be winded, one who can wear a backless dress without worrying about sagging upper arms. But most of all you deserve a woman who can give you a child.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman. You’ll always be beautiful.”

  He was skirting the real issue, but she was too tired to point that out. Besides, there were no arguments that could take away the basic fact: She could not have a child.

  “Don’t you think I can count, Bolton? When you’re forty-six I’ll be fifty-nine. When you’re fifty I’ll be sixty-three.” She pushed against his chest. “Let me go. I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “No, Virginia. I won’t let you go.” With subtle pressure he pulled her so close, she could feel his body heat through her robe.

  “Do you think I want people asking if I’m your mother?”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Oh, is it? Have you taken a good look at my thighs? And what about my belly? When you’re knocking ‘em dead at the beach, I’ll look like somebody whose skin needs a good pressing.”

  “Do you think I’m that shallow? Do you think all I care about is appearances?”

  “No. I don’t think you’re shallow.” She was close to tears now, but she’d be hanged before she’d cry. She’d do her crying later, when pride was not at stake and when dignity no longer mattered. Her hands shook as she shoved her hair back from her hot face. “This is so hard.”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Virginia.”

  “Yes, it does. Don’t you see, Bolton? This is not merely about appearances. You’re young and vigorous.”

  “So are you.”

  “No. I’m at the age when women start having medical problems. I’m not going to saddle you with something like that.”

  “Are you having problems, Virginia?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Then don’t borrow trouble. Most women outlive their men anyhow. Our ages even the odds.”

  “I’m not borrowing trouble. I’m being realistic.”

  “No, you’re being pessimistic.”

  “One of us has to be.”

  Suddenly he laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Like all artists, you can turn the mundane into drama, sometimes even melodrama.” He hugged her hard. “I’m never bored with you.”

  “I’m glad to know I’m good for something.” It took heroic effort to keep her voice from breaking. If she didn’t get out of there soon, she’d be bawling like a baby.

  “You’re good, Virginia,” Bolton whispered. His lips brushed her hair, then her eyebrows, her cheeks, her lips. “You’re very, very good.”

  It would be so easy to let herself be seduced, so easy to forget everything except the sensations he aroused in her.

  “Don’t.” She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held her fast.

  “Don’t fight against me. Don’t fight against us.”

  “There is no us. Oh, Bolton, don’t you see... our love is impossible.”

  “Do you love me, Virginia?”

  “I didn’t say that.” His quick smile broke her heart. “All right. I love you. But that doesn’t change anything.”

  “It does, Virginia. Love makes the impossible possible.”

  She shook her head, but he put a finger over her lips.

  “Don’t you know that when two people love each other, there’s no problem they can’t solve.” He smiled at her. “You write about it all the time.”

  “That’s fiction.”

  “Life imitates art.”

  “But life is not art. It’s real, and I won’t be the cause of your misery.”

  “If you walk out that door, you will be.”

  “No, Bolton, if I don’t walk out that door, I will be.” When he started to protest, she put her hand over his mouth. “Please don’t say another word. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

  They were still so close she was beginning to sweat. She didn’t know if her condition was caused by the fire or the unseasonably warm temperature or her age. He shifted subtly so that their hips were pressed close. She could feel his body heat, feel his arousal. If she didn’t leave soon, all was lost.

  She cupped his face so that he could see the truth in her eyes.

  “Nothing you can do will change my mind, Bolton, so please... let me leave with some dignity.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Finally she decided the only thing she could say was good-b
ye. He must have read her mind. When he held up his hand, it was not a signal for silence, but a command.

  His words were as fluid and musical as the most exquisite poetry. She didn’t have to understand the language to know what he was saying.

  Bolton Gray Wolf was pouring out his love to her in the ancient language of his people.

  Turning away from him was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  She had gained the door when he called out.

  “Virginia...It’s not over between us.”

  She plunged through the doorway without looking back.

  Chapter Ten

  Virginia put a cold cloth on her head and stayed in bed while Bolton left. She didn’t want to see him carry his bags down the path, didn’t want to see him get in his car, didn’t want to watch as the Mustang shot down the driveway.

  She was too numb to do anything except lie flat on her back, aching inside and out.

  The knock startled her. When Candace poked her head around the door, Virginia looked at the clock. Three in the afternoon. She must have slept. Pity she didn’t feel refreshed.

  “Mother...” Candace sat on the side of the bed. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” She didn’t think she’d ever be all right again.

  “We didn’t want to disturb you, but I got worried when you didn’t come out for lunch.”

  “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m young and resilient. I can take it.” Candace studied her mother. “I almost made you smile, didn’t I?”

  “Almost. Where’s Marge?”

  “Loading the car. We’re headed back to school.”

  Virginia made a halfhearted attempt to sit up, then flopped back onto the mattress.

  “Tell Marge ‘bye for me... and Candace, tell her I’m sorry I missed lunch.”

  “No problem. She understands... really, she does, Mother. We both do.”

  Virginia found the wet bath cloth wadded under the sheets and flung it to the floor.

  “I wish I did.”

  Candace picked up the cloth and carried it to the bathroom. Afterward, she stood in the bathroom doorway watching Virginia.

  “Candace, you look like somebody whose cat has just been run over. You might as well spit it out and get it over with.”