Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html

by Brianna Lee McKenzie

  Unmoved by her speech but seemingly amused by it, Travis folded his arms in front of his chest and drawled with a devilish grin, “Now, come on, Bunny. You know you liked it.”

  “I did not!” she seethed, putting her hands on her hips. “I’d rather kiss a rattler than to lock jaws with the likes of you.”

  “Well, I’ll be on the lookout for one. I’d hate to disappoint you,” he said, pretending to search the ground for a snake of her choosing.

  When she threw her hands up in disgust, he chuckled and dismissed her reaction to his advances with a shake of his head. He took the reins into his hands and stepped into the saddle, his anger at her dissipating as he smiled down at her. He reached a hand down to help her mount. His smile widened, accompanied by a playful wink, while he coaxed her to forgive him despite her obvious reproach.

  She darted daggers of reprisal at him for several seconds before she relented to climb up behind him. Slapping his hand away, she grabbed the leather straps that dangled on the skirt of the saddle and heaved her body up behind him.

  Travis glared over his shoulder at her before he spurred the horse into motion once again. His anger returning, he stiffened his back and thrust his Stetson back on his head as he kept his eyes toward the south and the destination that would finally give him freedom from the unrelenting passion that he felt for this woman and her unforgiving disapproval of his advances, which raised that passion another notch each time she rejected him.

  Neither said a word as the day turned into evening and when they stopped to camp for the night, they ate in silence and then turned into their respective beds. And as the stars gathered over head, they kept their emotions and their thoughts to themselves as sleep eluded them both.

  When Travis slumped against the saddle, he lay there deep in thought. He could not, for the life of him, figure out that woman. He’d tried every way that he knew to get through to her, to show her how he had felt about her, but as soon as he’d get close enough to break the barrier that she had built, she would run away like a scared rabbit. He’d never met a woman that didn’t come slinking up to him, begging for his attention. Sure, he’d been testy these past few days, but that was because she was getting under his skin and he could not find a way to make her feel the same way that he felt about her. She brought it out in him like a bur under his saddle, pricking at him every now and then just to rile him up. He didn’t mean to take it out on her, but by God, she was the reason that he was in the condition that he was in.

  He rolled over and looked at the form that cuddled in the blanket just a few yards away from him. Maybe he should apologize to her for forcing her to kiss him and for yelling at her the way that he had. Maybe he should tell her that he was confused and unsure of himself where she was concerned and that her presence was the cause of it and maybe even the cure of it, that is, if she’d ever let him prove it.

  Naw. He rolled over and stewed in his turmoil until he finally fell asleep.

  The night air began to cool the earth beneath Savannah’s bedroll and she snuggled under the blanket and shivered. She opened her eyes and her gaze fell on the man that held her heart in his hand. She sighed and wished that she hadn’t have been so hard on him. A man as handsome as he was is used to having his way with women. And what a way he had! With his smoldering kisses and unnerving touch, he sent her reeling with passion each time he had indulged himself with her. Sure, she had enjoyed the kiss, more than she cared to admit. And she had wanted more but her pride would not let her give in to him.

  She closed her eyes again and his face was all she saw in the darkness that overtook her. The light of that visage that smiled at her with both arrogance and intensity, passion and hatred all rolled together in his brown eyes and on his lips, which twitched with words that she knew he ached to tell her—words that she longed to hear from a man and to know that they were spoken from his heart. In her own heart, she yearned for the closeness that this man offered and she wished that she had not pushed him away yet again. She wished with all her heart and soul that he would ignore her vow of abstinence due to her counterfeit marriage and show her the passion that she knew was bursting inside him and that she would, with all her heart, show him the passion that she felt inside her.

  Deep in the recesses of her mind, as it drifted upon fitful dreams of past and future occurrences, she fought against the hateful face of her husband while wrestling with the urge to give all that she had to give to the man that she truly loved. And somewhere, from far, far away, she heard a vindictive voice of a woman who flaunted the fact that she was the one who held her husband’s heart and that no Georgia gringa was going to take him away from her. Slowly, the woman’s face came closer and her voice became louder as she told Savannah that Diego loved her and always had.

  Sitting up in her blanket, her body covered in perspiration, Savannah replayed the dream in her mind. But, it had really happened! She remembered hearing Maria’s voice taunting her as she lay paralyzed in that bed where she and Diego had kept her drugged and unable to fight against them. She remembered the hateful face that moved closer to her as it administered more laudanum and then laughed at the stupor that it caused in her. And she remembered seeing her husband take that woman into his arms as Savannah lay motionless and kiss her as if his wife did not exist.

  A surge of anger swelled through her as she sat on that cold, hard ground and vowed to herself that she would make them pay for the pain that they had caused her. On that night, upon all those stars and that brazen moon, she promised herself that she would no longer be a prisoner to the falsity of her vow to cleave only to her husband and guaranteed that the next time the opportunity arrived, whether it was forced or if she asked for it, she would kiss the man who seemed to be drawn to her and, if it so happened, she would allow him to thrust upon her all the passion that tore at his own body and translate it to her in a way that she longed to discover.

  With a sigh of yeaning, she lay down and closed her eyes against the urge to go to him and tell him, to show him, how she meant to make amends with him once and for all. And soon, new dreams overtook her, dreams of him showing her just how much he wanted to make amends with her once—and then again and again—and, if she had her way, again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  If the sun had not been so hot, it might have been a nice day. The wind, which blew a cooling breeze from the east, whipped at the two riders and their mounts. Savannah had tied her flying hair with a kerchief, trying in vain to keep it from slapping at her face. And as she held the reins with one hand, she smoothed down the silvery mane of her mare, which popped in the wind in front of her, smacking her in stinging strikes.

  After determining that Dixie was able to support a rider that morning, Travis had thrown the saddle upon the Appaloosa’s back and then mounted the bare back of his Palomino while Savannah rode the mare. The mended mare pranced and strutted beside the golden stallion without missing a step. Her nostrils flared and her head dipped excitedly as if she was glad to be ridden again.

  Travis looked across at Savannah, who sat proudly and confidently in her saddle, as if glad to be away from him and back in control of her quest to rid the world of the man who had done her wrong. Her back straight and her shoulders pitched back below her black mane of hair, which she held high like a princess riding among her subjects, she seemed to him to be just that. Her amethyst eyes stared forward, never catching a glimpse of his gaze as she sat upon her gentleman’s saddle with little effort on her part to keep the horse beneath her in complete control. He could not keep back the smile that creased his face despite the feeling of inferiority that this tiny woman suddenly instilled upon him when she finally turned her glorious head toward him and smiled sweetly as if to silently ask of him, “Why aren’t you begging for mercy?”

  It had been three days since he had kissed her, and since she had pushed him away again, and he still wondered if she had really wanted him to stop kissing her or if she was just as confused about their relationshi
p as he was. He had not tried it again, had not even come close to touching her unless she needed his help to mount the Palomino behind him for the first two days that they had agreed that the mare should rest as they lead her with the rope. And, now that Savannah was riding alone again, there was no further need to help her, for she insisted that she was perfectly capable of getting on her own horse and therefore, it was not necessary for him to even stand behind her on the ground in case she fell backward. True, the mare was at least three hands shorter than his own mount, which took her stretching her entire body in order to reach up and then step up into the saddle when mounting the Palomino and it only took a small hop for her to swing herself onto her mare’s back. Still, he felt the need to wait to mount until the tiny woman had settled in the saddle, a deed that perturbed Savannah so much that she would spur the mare into a trot and leave him behind.

  More amused than angry at her for her actions, Travis would just shake his head and chuckle to himself before slipping onto the back of his own horse and trotting after her. And then, after hours of resisting the urge to reach over and drag her down to the ground where he would ravage her whether she resisted or not, he finally resigned himself to settle into the saddle and ignore her altogether.

  After hours of monotonously plodding along, Savannah finally snuck a glance at Travis, who seemed to doze on the back of his Palomino. With his head against his chest and his hands resting on the stallion’s withers, he looked vulnerable and approachable. But, she dared not wake him, for fear that he might shout at her the way he had before. So, she let him continue sleeping as she stared at him in a way that she had only occasionally allowed herself to indulge in.

  His ample lips, which had branded hers with that insistent kiss, now parted minutely as his breathing escaped from them. The arms that had bound her were slack and sluggish while his elbows dipped and stretched ever so slightly in a rhythm that mirrored the gait of the stallion. Those long, lanky legs that bounced against the horse’s sides in a drowsy dance were the same legs that had closed the distance between them with very little effort in order to clamp his lips to hers.

  Remembering that kiss, that feeling of his body constricting hers into submission, recalling that yearning that she knew that she could not—would not—allow him to know that he had won the battle that raged within her, she tried desperately to suppress that growing desire to have him repeat the daring deed that had been and would be her ultimate undoing. It angered her even more that she had let her body overpower her determination to keep her vows to her husband sacred. But what perturbed her most was that with the slightest look, the tiniest touch from him, she feared that she would break her resolve and she would be his to do with whatever he wanted.

  Her only saving grace was that, in a few days, they would be in the village that harbored Casa de Flores and their journey would end with the death of her husband and the return of her son to her would be eminent. This feat would take every bit of her energy to perform, leaving little room for thoughts and dreams of a relationship with Travis. And, when the job was done, there would be no need for the former Texas Ranger. She was more than confident that she could make the trip back home alone.

  They rode until early afternoon when Travis jerked into motion, awaking from his slumber on his stallion’s back. He pulled back on the reins and looked around as if disturbed by a riotous noise and as awareness took over, he blinked languidly and then nudged Blazer into motion again, saying as if to himself, “We’ll stop the next time we find water and have a bite to eat.”

  Savannah only nodded the acknowledgement, for she knew that if she said anything, she would have to stifle a giggle that welled up in her throat at the comical appearance that he presented. As it was, she had to press her fingertips to her lips to suppress any smile that would have showed itself when he looked her way for an answer.

  In less than an hour, they had found a patch of grass that indicated an underground stream and they dismounted and dug a hole for the horses to drink from. Savannah found a secluded place to relieve herself and then returned to find Travis rummaging through the saddlebag. She wondered what he would find to eat, for their food was running low, but she really did not care what she put into her belly as long as it was nourishing.

  She leaned against the boulder behind her and yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Just as she had touched the sky with her fingertips, she heard that familiar rattle that reminded her of the maracas in a mariachi band. Her heart stopped and her breath ceased its passage through her lungs. She would have panicked had Travis not caught her eye and motioned for her to freeze.

  She heard him hissing to her in excited panic, “Don’t move a muscle!”

  Still frozen in her position of reaching for the sky, she dared not disobey him. She held her breath and kept her eyes fixed on Travis, who was very slowly pulling the rifle from the saddle. The rattle snake continued its warning clatter while she stood just six inches from its face and silently begged her knees not to buckle in her fright. When she saw that Travis had placed the butt of the rifle to his shoulder and pulled back the trigger, she closed her eyes. Even though she knew that he was an excellent shot, she still worried that he could miss or that the snake would strike her before the bullet struck it.

  The deafening explosion of the rifle shook the ground beneath her feet and gave her body permission to collapse in relief and weakness. Before the blackness of oblivion took over, though, she was caught in strong arms that eased her to the ground and then held her to his body in an effort to quell the trembling that had assailed her.

  Travis trembled almost as much as she did as he held her next to him, hugging her and kissing her head and then her forehead, following the profile of her nose until their lips met in a searing, searching, healing kiss that both felt would remedy the violent shaking of their bodies. Then, he pulled away, and thrusting her back into his arms, he let out a most painful groan of relief as he whispered huskily into her ear, “My God, Savannah. I thought I lost you.”

  He rocked her in his arms until they both calmed down and their hearts slowed their erratic beating. Then, he pulled her just far enough away from his face to cup her cheeks in both of his palms and to stare into her velvety violet eyes as he breathed, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if he’d have bitten you.”

  Without worrying that she would reject his actions, he eased his face toward her and pressed his lips gently to hers, so gently that her heart fluttered with desire. Without resistance, she returned the gesture with more fervency than he had expected and spurred by that furor, he wound his arms tightly around her and cupping her head with one hand, he thrust his delving tongue into her mouth. A groan of protest--or was it a plea to continue?--escaped her hungry mouth as he left it to caress her neck with his exploring lips.

  Just as suddenly as it had happened, the two reverted to reality and, in unison and together, they pulled away, turning from the other as if the sight of them was repulsive. Or was it an effort to resist the magnetism that their bodies must have exuded at that very moment? Whatever the reason, they mumbled apologies and scrambled to their feet, creating distance between them as Savannah walked toward her horse and Travis inspected the snake’s limp body.

  He carried it toward her. In a rapid demonstration of jest, he raised it at Savannah’s face and asked, “Care to kiss him instead?”

  Jumping in surprise at the sudden sight of the snake, she held her fingers to her neck and drew in a breath before letting it out again. Shifting the rifle aside with her fingers, she used the other hand to slap his shoulder playfully, forgiving him instantly for scaring her again and for his reminder that she had said that she ‘would rather kiss a snake than the likes of him’, she said just as jokingly, “I’m not in the mood.”

  He chuckled, remembering their embrace and their driven kiss, he lifted the snake to eye level and said to the dead reptile, “Sorry, son. Looks like she’s not attracted to you. But, is she hungry enough to have you
for lunch?”

  Savannah narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her as she said, “That depends. Is he the only option?”

  “Well,” Travis said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s either snake steak or cactus cakes. About all we have left is a little bit of flour and some dried beans.”

  “Snake sounds delectable,” she said with a smile of agreement.

  While Travis cut up their lunch, Savannah gathered wood for a fire. Then, they ate the terrifying reptile while laughing at the commotion that it had caused, yet neither of them mentioned the aftermath of that experience: the discovery that both of them felt the need to cling to the other and the growing emotions that lingered just below the surface, untapped until that very moment when dread met desire, and were somehow, one and the same.

  They remounted and continued their journey until the stars illuminated the sky and the waning moon winked behind distant mountain ridges. After securing a site for their camp, Travis built a blazing fire against the cold that he knew would come. Savannah unfolded her blanket and then emptied the contents of the side of the saddlebag that held their food stores. With the rabbit that Travis had shot earlier and the flour, they could make a nice meal. But tomorrow they would have to stop earlier in order to soak the dry beans for a soup.

  The meal was consumed without conversation, for both of them were deep in thought about the day’s events. Reliving it in their minds, they dared not reveal to the other, the feelings that those thoughts provoked in them. And, while Savannah cleaned the dishes, Travis rubbed a clean cloth over the barrel of his rifle. With the dishes cleaned and put away, she drew a small pan of the precious water and heated it slightly on the coals of the fire. She took the water to her pallet and knelt beneath the privacy of the blanket and took a much-needed bath.