Master of Solitude (Mountain Masters & Dark Haven Book 8)

by Cherise Sinclair

  Picking up the excitement, the horses broke into a trot, heading for the stable. The riders shouted with glee.

  Cheering and welcoming yells came from the people in the yard and crowding the fences.

  Oh, how she’d missed her man. It had been far too long. Unable to wait any longer, Mallory swung over the fence and ran across the grass.

  Catching sight of her, Achilles gave a delighted ooo-ooo-ooo, broke away from his very important task of leading the drive, and charged across the pasture to greet her.

  Mallory crouched to greet the frantically whirling dog. “Did you take good care of Sawyer and the horses?”

  During the exchange of hugs and kisses, Achilles assured her he’d done an excellent job of supervising.

  Laughing, Mallory rose and realized the line of horses had reached the stable and the center of the milling crowd.

  Sawyer jumped off his gelding and handed the reins to someone in the crowd. Eyes on Mallory, he started across the yard toward her.

  A second later, she was pulled into his rock-hard arms.

  Burrowing as close as she could get, she rubbed her face against his shoulder and inhaled the scent of leather and sweat and man. “Oh, Sawyer.”

  “Fuck, I missed you.” Sawyer pulled her tighter, his big frame hard and amazingly real.

  She pulled his head down for a long, wonderful kiss. And another. “Oh yes. More.” She rose on tiptoes—and he took control, molding her against him, as he devoured her mouth.

  The ground disappeared right out from under her.

  When they came up for air, the last of the riders had moved past. By the stable, the townspeople were helping unsaddle and water the horses before turning them out to pasture.

  Sawyer looked around at the cars parked up and down the lane, at the people milling around the cabin. “What’s all this?”

  “Bear Flat wanted to celebrate the town’s first annual spring horse drive.” She grinned. “Your place has been commandeered for a town barbecue.”

  The disbelief in his gaze was simply wonderful.

  What the fuck? Sawyer could only stare.

  The wooden half-barrels beside his porch and the driveway entrance were overflowing with bright red and white tulips. Had Mrs. Reed and Vanessa decided his yard was too boring for a celebration? Good thing the eight-foot bush—had Mallory called it a lilac?—beside the cabin was in full, fragrant bloom.

  Three barbecues were set up near the cabin, and the aroma of grilling meat made his stomach growl. Close by, picnic tables covered in red-and-white tablecloths were loaded with food.

  Blankets, lawn chairs, and picnic baskets dotted the lush grass a little distance away. People everywhere… Families with babies and toddlers, clusters of men in flannel shirts and jeans, older locals in lawn chairs, young men and women flirting… “Is the whole town here?” he asked, feeling gut-punched.

  “Maybe not everybody, but close.” Mallory smiled, her eyes a vivid green in the sunlight. “The business owners appreciated how you timed your arrival before the tourist season starts—and on a Sunday—so they could come.”

  He and Morgan hadn’t “timed” anything. “Have I mentioned Bear Flat people are crazy?”

  She grinned. “You fit right in, Captain.”

  He couldn’t argue.

  She laughed at his disgruntled look. “Go finish your duties. I’ll be waiting for you over there.” She motioned to the swath of picnic blankets covering the grassy area, well away from the stable and corrals.

  “But…” Fuck, he didn’t want to let her go. Only, she was right; he had responsibilities. “See you soon.”

  After a worried look between them, Achilles trotted after her, obviously deciding his duties were over, and it was time for food.

  With a burning hunger for his woman simmering in Sawyer’s blood, the end of the trail drive seemed to take forever, even though people appeared from everywhere to help.

  Leading away one of the horses, Att had stopped to give him a hard hug. Saddle over one shoulder, Logan had nodded on his way past. Virgil was helping one of the younger riders groom his horse.

  It hadn’t taken long before the horses were turned out to pasture and the tack put away in the stable. After learning the town had set out blankets and chairs for the guest riders, Morgan and Kallie had guided them there. Everyone was getting fed.

  Sawyer looked around the empty stable and grinned. Work done. Time for food and drink.

  As he walked toward the barbecues, trying to spot his woman, Barney stopped him.

  “Hey, Cap.” The massive logger who’d been beside him at what the town had labeled “the Simmons Fire” handed him a beer with a thumping slap on his arm that almost knocked him over. He pointed to the right. “Mal’s over there.”

  “Thanks, Barney.” Weaving through the maze of blankets and chairs and groups of people, Sawyer exchanged greetings, handshakes, hugs, and finally reached his target.

  Mallory was on a blanket, Atticus and Gin on her right, Virgil and Summer on her left.

  Sawyer dropped down beside his woman, close enough to breathe in her clean fragrance. Wrapping an arm around her, he took himself another long, satisfying kiss, and the rough edges inside him settled into place with a contented sigh.

  “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, then remembered they were in the middle of a crowd. Damn. Pulling upright, he glanced around.

  Hell of a lot of smiles were now directed at him and Mallory.

  “Your drive looks like fun, bro. I wish I could’ve gotten the time off. Next fall, I’m in.” Atticus glanced down at his little redhead. “You want to come?”

  “Riding all day?” Gin’s little nose wrinkled. “I wouldn’t be able to walk afterward. However, I do believe Trigger would be happy to join you.”

  Sawyer followed her gaze and saw Trigger and Achilles playing tag around the blankets.

  “Must be nice to be young,” Sawyer said. He’d loved the drive…and was going to be fucking happy to be in a soft bed again. With his woman in his arms.

  Smiling, he took a sip of his drink and felt it dissolve the dust in his throat.

  “Mr. Ware, I got food for you.” Trotting up to the blanket, Roger Simmons’s little boy handed him a plate filled with two burgers, potato salad, beans, and a massive piece of cake. The plate was accompanied by a worshipful look.

  “Looks great. Thanks, Heath.”

  The kid grinned and ran back to a herd of youngsters.

  “It’s good to see him acting like a kid.” During the winter, the boy had been unnaturally quiet. Looking around, Sawyer spotted Simmons’s pretty teenager, who had also seemed subdued. “Both kids look perkier.”

  “Heath’s resilient,” Virgil said. He was sprawled on the blanket, his head resting on Summer’s thighs.

  “Jasmine probably had it rougher. She understood how close her little brother came to dying.” Mallory grinned. “In addition, Terry’s grandson finally caught her attention. These days she’s thinking of other things than death and violence.”

  A young man had his arm around the girl, his stance protective. With a shock, Sawyer realized the tall, strong teen was the blond boy he’d caught buying drugs. “Was Jasmine the girl he was trying to impress when I caught him in the alley?”

  “Mmmhmm.” Mallory smiled and leaned her head against Sawyer’s arm. “He learned a man shouldn’t give up his integrity for a woman. And she realized a macho swagger doesn’t guarantee a good character.”

  “I don’t think I learned those lessons until well past high school.” He studied the young couple and smiled at how they leaned against each other. Young love. Nice.

  Sawyer kissed the top of Mallory’s head. His own love had a rare understanding of people. Sometimes it seemed as if she could read his mind. And she possessed another uncanny talent. “Last night…”

  “You’re frowning at me, Ware.” Without him asking, she took his beer so he could dig into his food. “What happened last night?”r />
  “I was sitting by the campfire. Did you know when your eyes are dazzled by firelight, it’s impossible to see up into the tree canopy? To see anything higher than head-high?”

  She wrinkled her nose quizzically. “And?”

  “At Simmons’s fire, you yelled for me to get down.” He could still hear the panic in her voice. “How did you see Animal in the tree? He wouldn’t have been visible.”

  Laughter filled her eyes. “I’ve told you before—auras are easier to see in the dark.”

  She’d actually seen Animal’s aura. He shook his head. “You are the most amazing woman.”

  As he approached, Morgan heard Sawyer’s comment and had to grin. Ware sometimes reminded him of Wyatt. Neither one wanted to accept any shit he couldn’t see nor touch. Smirking, Morgan dropped down on an empty blanket. “Told you she could see auras.”

  Sawyer gave him a dirty look. “You’re not helping, Masterson.”

  Grinning, Morgan accepted a food-filled plate from Heath and saw the huge wedge of pie. “By damn, that’s Vanessa’s cherry pie, isn’t it?” His favorite pie in all the world.

  “Yessir. I told her to make it big cuz everybody knows how much you like cherry pie.”

  “You’re a good kid. Thank you.”

  Beaming from the compliment, the boy ran back to the cook area. He looked great. Healthy.

  Alive.

  Because Morgan had killed a man for him.

  After the Simmons Fire last November, Morgan had headed up into the high country for a few weeks. At that elevation, the air was so crisply cold, it felt as if it would snap. The trees had been a stark black against the pristine snow.

  Camping in the snow, he’d lived from moment to moment, concentrating on survival. Far away from the soggy, clinging emotions of people, he’d come to terms with the shot he’d taken. No matter how sickened he was at killing another human, he’d done what needed to be done. He’d protected a child—one of his tribe. When it came right down to it, all creatures lived by the natural order—life and death, kill or be killed…and protect the tribe.

  When he’d returned, wind-burned and gaunt, Sawyer had pushed him into seeing the local counselor. Talking with Jacob Wheeler had been interesting, but Morgan hadn’t needed the psych dude. He was doing all right. When the counselor agreed, that had been the end of it.

  As Morgan lounged on the blanket, he listened to the conversations around him—and enjoyed the hell out of food he hadn’t had to cook. Especially the pie. Oh yeah.

  After the last bite, he sighed and looked up. “Hey, Mal, I heard from Wyatt. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”

  “Good news.” She grinned. “Just in time to put him to work.”

  “Exactly.” There would be some battles coming as well. With Kallie’s agreement, Morgan had made more than a few improvements to the business.

  Might even say he’d done the same to himself.

  “Speaking of work…” He glanced at Sawyer. “Since the drive is over, your job is done. The Mastersons and Hunts will assume responsibility for the clients.”

  Halleluiah. Sawyer grinned. This was probably how Achilles felt when the leash came off. “I stand relieved. Gotta say, I am fucking pleased to have your outfit handling the two-legged critters.”

  Morgan huffed a laugh. “We noticed.” He glanced around and noticed Kallie was escorting the older clients toward the parking area. “Speaking of which, I better help before she gets pissed at me for sitting on my ass.”

  As Morgan headed for the guests, Sawyer watched Kallie. The tiny brunette was like a herding dog, filled with energy, keeping her guests happy, and enjoying the hell out of herself in the process. Mallory had good taste in her friends.

  Sawyer kissed the top of his woman’s head and smiled down into her clear green eyes. “What’s the plan for the afternoon?”

  “We eat and drink and talk. We all want to hear about the trail ride—feel free to exaggerate; the bigger the tale, the better. Once everyone leaves, we can have our own celebration.”

  “Can’t ask for better than that.”

  The afternoon progressed with, as Mallory had said, food and drink and talk. The townspeople not only made the clients from the horse drive welcome, but coaxed stories of the experience, which led to a round of tall tales from the Bear Flat old-timers.

  As the sun lowered behind the still white-capped mountains, the Hunts and Mastersons shuttled the clients up to Serenity Lodge, and the townspeople cleared away all evidence of the celebration.

  Then a stream of cars headed down the mountain, leaving Sawyer and Mallory waving farewell in front of the cabin.

  “C’mon, Captain.” Mallory took his hand. “Let’s go home.”

  Taking her hand, he walked with her down the lane and up the hill to the farmhouse.

  Aslan was perched on the porch railing, having monitored the gathering from a safe distance. With a welcoming purr, he accepted a chin rub, then jumped down to greet the pup.

  Tail wagging frantically, Achilles bounced around the solemn cat, sharing all his puppy adventures in high yips and whines.

  Grinning, Sawyer opened the front door for Mallory and glanced back over his shoulder.

  His horses were grazing peacefully in the green meadow where the rushing creek glinted in the last of the sunlight. The little cabin—which Hector would use when he came to visit—sat waiting for its next occupant. Mallory’s farmhouse—now their farmhouse—seemed to expand in serene welcome.

  This was where he belonged. To this land. To this town. And above all, to this woman.

  “Welcome home, my hero,” Mallory said softly and rose onto tiptoes to give him a kiss.

  As peace filled his soul, he wrapped his arms around her.

  Yeah, he was home.

  ~ The End ~

  *

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  Have you tried the Wild Hunt Legacy series?

  Hour of the Lion

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  Winner of The Romance Reviews’ Best Book of 2011 award ~ There’s a reason why Cherise Sinclair is on my auto-buy list: she writes fantastic erotic romances with great stories and wonderful characters. So, when I saw her newest release, I was intrigued that it was a departure from the kind of books that she normally writes. But, I am happy to report that she’s done it again. Hour of the Lion was simply amazing. Hot hunky shifter men, a strong and sassy heroine, a gripping story, and some oh so lovely ménage action are just the tip of the iceberg in this phenomenal read!

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  First a Marine, then a black ops agent, Victoria Morgan knows the military is where she belongs…until a sniper’s bullet changes her life. Trying to prove she’s not washed up, she rescues a young man from kidnappers. When the dying boy transforms into a cougar—and bites her—she learns of an entire hidden society. He begs her to inform his grandfather of his death and to keep the secret of the shifters’ existence. She can’t refuse, but what if the creatures pose a danger to the country she swore to protect?

  As guardian of the shifter territory, Calum McGregor wields the power of life and death over his people. When a pretty human female arrives in their wilderness town, he and his littermate become increasingly concerned. Not only is the little female hiding something, but she is far more appealing than any human should be.

  While investigating the shifters, Victoria begins to fall in love with the werecat brothers and the town as well. For the first time in her life, she might have a real home. Her hopes are crushed when a deadly enemy follows her from the city, and the shifters discover she knows their secret. Now nobody is safe—least of all Victoria.

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t of fun side characters (I’ve already asked for a certain bear and wolfie to get books) this slick paranormal romance came at me out of nowhere and knocked my socks off.

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  Excerpt from

  Hour of the Lion

  Ignoring the wood pixie chittering angrily in the oak tree, Sheriff Alec McGregor silently stepped onto the porch, coming up behind the burglar. He tried not to laugh as the criminal squirmed like a paw-pinned mouse.

  It’d been a boring week so far. The last excitement was a good four days ago when old Peterson, having indulged in rotgut tequila, tried to demonstrate how to tap-dance on top of Calum’s bar…which he did about once a month.

  At least a pinioned burglar had the dubious distinction of being unique.

  He rubbed his chin, feeling the rasp of stubble. He’d noticed—being as how he was a guy—what was wiggling was a very fine, nicely rounded ass in tight jeans.

  And being a guy, he felt the need to see the front of this dangerous perp who had one leg inside the window and the other outside. He moved silently across the porch and checked out the criminal’s front side to see what else the evening might hold.

  Evening is going well. Hair, the rich color of dark walnut, rippled across her shoulders, and her purple T-shirt was tight enough to reveal amazingly lush breasts for such a compact body. Since she was too occupied to notice his arrival, he could study her assets without being considered a macho pig. Abundant. Yes, that would be the word. He’d heard the more-than-a-mouthful is wasted saying, but when it came to breasts, he was a bit of a glutton.

  Concentrating on freeing her leg from something, she was oblivious to everything else.

  He thought for a minute and decided to speak up. And hey, he needed to see the color of her eyes—for the report and all.

  “My jail is empty today,” he remarked sociably. “In case you wondered.”

  She froze like a mouse hearing a fox. When huge copper-colored eyes met his, everything inside him came to a halt, like the day he’d been chasing a rabbit and got his leg caught in a steel trap. A hard painful grip, only this time it was his chest being squeezed.