Touch the Horizon

by Iris Johansen

  “What are they?”

  “Anemones,” he answered. “Windflowers.”

  She laughed shakily. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of a man postponing a seduction to plant flowers. I think perhaps I should be insulted, even if they are my namesake.”

  “Not a seduction, a blossoming.” His hands were rapidly finishing his task. “And these aren’t just flowers I’m planting. It’s a sort of ritual. I believe in rituals, sweetheart. I think they make life more meaningful and beautiful.”

  “And what is this ritual?”

  “Love,” he said simply. “I’m planting my windflower in the center and surrounding her with pinks. That’s one of the flowers that means love, you know.”

  A windflower surrounded by love. How incredibly moving. She felt her throat tighten with emotion. “No, I didn’t know. I thought only roses meant love.”

  “No, there are any number of flowers that have the same meaning.” There was an odd flicker of pain in his face, and he lowered his eyes once more to his sprigs. “I planted an entire garden of love once. For my mother, at the ranch in Texas.”

  “What a wonderful thing to do,” Billie said. “How she must have loved it.”

  “No, not wonderful. Necessary.” His tone was weary. “I’d taken so much from her, and she couldn’t accept what I wanted to give her.” He paused, and there was a little thickness in his voice when he continued. “I thought perhaps it would be a way of easing her pain.”

  “Pain?”

  “I nearly destroyed her as well as myself when I experimented with those drugs in college. Maybe I deserved it for being such a God-awful fool, but she didn’t.” He closed his eyes. “You can’t imagine what those first years were like. The terrible nightmares, the fear. It was like being burned alive. And then, when I started to get well, I wasn’t the same person I’d been before. It was as if that other David had been destroyed when I took acid in the dorm that night and I’d been born again from the flames of the hell I went through. She couldn’t accept that new David. She nearly had a nervous breakdown, and my father thought for a while that he’d lost both of us.”

  He opened his eyes, and she felt a stabbing pain as she saw the weariness and sadness there. “So Bree and Alex took me away to Sedikhan and tried to bring back the son she’d known before that night. The doctors…” He shrugged. “They may have been able to restore my memory and my brainpower, but they couldn’t perform miracles. They couldn’t resurrect the man who had died in those flames. I thought it might be enough for her, but when I went back to the ranch for a visit two years ago, things hadn’t really changed. She was still uneasy around me, still hurting inside. She’s a very loving, caring person, and I’d killed the person she loved most in the world besides my father. She needed someone to love, but she couldn’t love me.” His hands clenched suddenly in the earth. “She couldn’t love me anymore.”

  “David…” Billie could scarcely see through the mist of tears. She could feel his pain as if it were her own, and it was almost unbearable. “Perhaps you were mistaken. She must have loved you.” Who could help but love him?

  “No, I wasn’t mistaken. I’d hurt her too much, and I’m only a reminder of her pain now.” His hands slowly unclenched, and the dark earth sifted through his fingers. “I’ve never been back since that visit. I met my father in New York last year when I had to fly over on some business about the book, but I haven’t seen my mother. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.” He drew a deep, shaky breath as he sat back on his heels. He reached for the towel beside him and began wiping his hands. “But she’s going to be all right. She’s happy now. I sent her someone she could love. A sweet, pretty child who needed love as much as she needed to give it.”

  Zilah. He’d found a way to heal everybody’s hurt but his own. God, she wanted to heal that hurt. To hold him and find a way to banish the sadness that still lingered on his face.

  He turned to look at her, and when he saw her face he smiled and shook his head. “Hey, don’t look like that. There’s nothing to be sad about. I told you, she’s fine. And I’m all right too. I have friends who love me, and now Sedikhan is my home. We can’t have everything.”

  But she wanted him to have everything, she thought fiercely. She wanted him to have beauty, love, and everything he’d ever wanted. He deserved it.

  “No, we can’t have everything.” She smiled up at him a little mistily. “But we can try. If you remember, that’s why I’m here.”

  “How could I forget?” He reached out and took her hand in his, his eyes suddenly twinkling. “After all, my anatomy has been very aggressively reminding me since I left you in the hall tonight.” He picked up the towel and the lantern with one hand and, still holding her hand with the other, pulled her to her feet. “Come, milady, let me show you to your chamber.”

  He led her toward a tall flowering hedge that occupied a central position in the greenhouse, stopping only a moment to wash his hands at one of the mosaic fountains. Closer up she could see that the high, symmetrical wall of the hedge was broken by an arched opening. Then they were going through that opening and she found herself in the chamber he had promised her. Enclosed by hedges on three sides and a lattice wall of golden honeysuckle on the fourth, it was like a cozy little room. There was a wrought-iron bench on the far side of the enclosure, and in the center was a large mat covered in ivory silk that shimmered in the lantern light.

  “I come here sometimes when I’m having trouble mapping out a chapter,” David said, putting down the lantern on the mossy ground beside the silk-sheathed mat. “It’s very pleasant and soothing.”

  She chuckled. “Those must be some sensual chapters if they’re thought out on silk sheets.”

  “That’s a new addition,” he answered. “In your honor, windflower. You’ll notice the sheets are ivory. I remember how you hated the idea of clashing.” He turned her in his arms with a tenderness that caused the trembling to start deep inside her. “No clashing tonight, love. Just a sweet blending, a perfect joining.” His lips caressed hers in a sensual brushing, tasting, teasing that made her open them with unconscious yearning. Then his tongue was plunging into her moist warmth and her lips closed hungrily on it, sucking and nibbling until she could feel the gentleness leave his arms as he crushed her to him with a low groan. His iron-hard arousal was pressed against her, and she welcomed it with an involuntary upward thrusting that made him give another gasping groan deep in his throat. It was odd what a savage satisfaction she received from that helpless cry of need. She rubbed slowly against him in deliberate provocation, reveling in the half gasps that shuddered through him at every movement. She wanted him to feel that need, wanted it to build up until it broke free and exploded into the same primitive desire she was having. There was a wild, aching throbbing between her thighs that was being stoked into liquid flame.

  His hands suddenly clutched roughly at her buttocks, and he began a thrusting against her that caused her hands to grab at his shoulders and hang on desperately as she felt her knees melt and go weak. He lifted his head, and his face was flushed, his eyes dark and glazed. “That’s another one of life’s rhythms, Billie.” He slowly rotated her against him while still thrusting. “Do you like that one?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.” Her head was thrown back, her throat ached with the tension that was mounting at a pace that was burning her alive.

  “I’ll show you other rhythms that you’ll enjoy even more.” His hands were squeezing her in tempo with the thrusting of his lower body. “How much do you want me, sweetheart? Do you want me inside you as much as I want to be there? Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

  “I want you.” She could barely speak as she felt the heat tingling through every vein of her body. He rotated her against him again, and she inhaled sharply as she felt a jab of desire so intense that she thought it would rip her apart. “Please, David. I want you there now.”

  His hips were still, and he was holding her pressed against hi
m with urgent strength. She could feel his heart thundering against her and the harsh sound of his shallow breathing. Then he was pushing her away from him. “And heaven knows I want you now too,” he said thickly. “But not yet, windflower. I want to make it as perfect as I can for both of us. I told you I believe in rituals. The blossoming is a very important one.” His hand was unbuttoning her black tunic top and lifting it swiftly over her head. He threw it aside carelessly, his hot gaze on her small, uptilted breasts. “My tulips. I’m going to make them blossom, too, love.” His hands were on the fastening of her khakis, and then he was pushing them, together with the minute bikini panties she wore, over her hips and down her legs. Falling to his knees, he carefully lifted her legs out of them, removing her sandals at the same time.

  He sat back on his heels, and his glowing eyes ran over her lingeringly, in a way that was only a breath away from incendiary. “Beautiful, strong, and graceful.” He leaned forward to nestle his head against her belly, the slight roughness of his cheek causing little shivers of heat to go through her. “And sexy. Definitely sexy, Billie.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are,” he interrupted firmly. “Shall I show you how sexy?” He rubbed his head against her, his teeth nipping occasionally at the soft flesh, his tongue tasting her with an erotic delicacy. “It’s responsiveness that makes a woman sexy, sweetheart. Let’s see just how responsive you are.” His fingers were running with sensual pleasure through the soft down that guarded the center of her womanhood. “You’re trembling. I can feel the heat of you beneath my hands. So soft and yearning.” He was stroking her, rubbing her with a circular motion that wrung a tiny moan from her. “Sexy,” he whispered. “Completely and marvelously sexy.” Then he was pulling her down on him, his arms going around her and his lips covering hers with a passion that took her breath away. He bore her back on the silk counterpane of the mat, covering her body with his own. She could feel the burning heat of him through his clothes.

  “You’re still dressed,” she muttered as his lips left her own to wander down her throat in a hundred hot kisses.

  “Yes.” He lifted his head, his eyes oddly smoky as they met hers. “And you’re completely naked. How does that make you feel?”

  “What?” she asked confusedly. “I don’t know. Vulnerable, I guess.”

  “Nothing else?” he asked softly. As he rubbed his chest against hers, the crisp cotton of his shirt caused a slight friction that made her tense. “Isn’t there something else, too, love?”

  Yes, there was something else. The vulnerability of her own nakedness, the dominance of his still-clothed body, were engendering an erotic excitement that was bringing a hot flush to every inch of her exposed form. She buried her face in his shoulder with a low cry, her back arching up to meet him.

  “I thought so.” His voice was hoarse as he parted her legs with one of his. “I think I’ll just wait awhile to undress.” His lips were moving over the rise of her breast. “It’s time I tasted your honey, Billie.” His hand cupped her breast, and his head bent slowly to the pink rosette that was offering itself eagerly to his mouth. “Let me suckle at your pretty breasts.” His mouth closed on her with a dainty sipping and then suddenly changed to a strong suction as his hand closed and opened around her breast in a gentle milking pressure that caused her head to thrash feverishly back and forth on the silk counterpane.

  “Rhythms, Billie,” he murmured as his mouth continued the tempo that was turning her into an aching void wanting to be filled. “Rhythms.”

  Then he suddenly drew his knee up between her thighs until it was resting against the center of her being. She gasped as he began to rub back and forth against her. The rough denim of his jeans was a hot abrasion causing flashes of sensation that were beginning to shake her apart. Rhythms, she thought hazily, the rhythm of her pounding heart, the rhythm of his lips against her breast, the rhythm of his knee against the sensitive core of her. Hot, mind-exploding rhythms.

  David was breathing as if his lungs were starved for oxygen when he finally lifted his head and gazed into her flushed and languorous face. “I don’t think I can wait much longer. I think we’d better move to some of the other rhythms, love.”

  He rolled off her and stood up, gazing down at her with a face that was heavy with sensuality. He unbuttoned his black shirt with hands that trembled slightly. “In a moment I’ll be just as vulnerable as you.” He grinned ruefully. “If I can stop my hands from shaking enough to get these damn buttons undone.” He pulled the shirt out of his pants and shrugged out of it, his bronze shoulders taking on a copper luster in the flickering lantern light. “I think we’ve got it made, windflower.”

  It appeared that he had, for in an amazingly short time he was stripped completely and was dropping down on the mat beside her. “Come here, love. I want to see how well we flow together.” He pulled her to him and strained her so close, she felt as if she were being absorbed into him. His sleek, warm flesh, the slight roughness of the hair on his chest, the hardness of the muscles of his thighs, it was all terribly arousing. For him, too, it seemed, for she could feel that arousal prodding demandingly against her. She unconsciously nestled her hips closer, and she heard his low, husky laugh beneath her ear. “Trying to strike up an acquaintance? I assure you, you’re going to be on exceptionally good terms very soon.” He pushed her away, turning her over on her back. He parted her legs and slid lithely between them. He sat back on his heels and looked down at her a long moment, his sapphire eyes darkened to almost navy. “Lord, that’s wonderful. Ready and waiting and so lovely.” He edged closer, so that the warm velvet length of him was pressing against her.

  She gave a little gasp, and she could feel something clench inside her. He was rubbing against her now as his knee had before, and it was sending little electric shocks to every nerve in her body. His face was very intent, and she could see his chest move with the labored force of his breathing. His fingers were stroking her now, preparing her, and she writhed against them helplessly, feeling as if every inch of her were on fire. Then his hands were gone and he was pressing against her once more, this time with a more urgent, not a teasing, pressure.

  “David,” she said, her eyes wild and feverish in her flushed face. “I’ve never—”

  “I know,” he interrupted gently. “I think I know everything about you, love. I’ve learned you by heart.”

  Then he was entering her with painstaking care. So large. So full. Joined. How wonderful to be part of him. Even though she was aching with frustration for more, this was beautiful too.

  He paused, his eyes narrowed in concern. “A little pain now, windflower. But with growth there’s always a bit of pain, and what comes afterward is the blossoming. And that’s a miracle.” He leaned over, and his lips took hers with a tenderness so intense, she felt her heart stop.

  He thrust forward forcefully, smothering her little cry with his lips. He gave her an instant to become accustomed to him. Then he was moving, plunging, thrusting, with gradually increasing force. It was fire and need and an emptiness that at last was being filled. She arched upward and began to meet his rhythm with her own.

  Rhythm. Yes, another one, the most powerful one of all. Somewhere outside herself she could feel the rhythm of their bodies merging with the silent throbbing tempo of everything about them. The rich earth. The flowering shrubbery, the silver moonlight streaming in and bathing them in its mystical glow. Everything.

  Then he was thrusting even harder, lifting her hips to bring her closer, him deeper. She could feel the tension mounting within them both like a tightly closed bud that was growing impatient to unfold and unite with the sunlight. Then the bud burst into glory, rapture, beauty, reaching up to meet the warmth of the sun. The sun, David. The blossoming, oh, dear heavens, the blossoming!

  “A miracle.” His murmur in her ear was a mere breath, his heart still pounding erratically. “I told you it would be a miracle, windflower.” He rolled over on his side, keeping her with
him. “A miracle of joy. It always will be with us.”

  It was strange, but she could still feel the warmth of that miracle of the blossoming even as her heartbeat slowed and steadied. She was still wrapped in its loving sunlight. “It was unbelievable.”

  “Believe it,” he said thickly, his arms tightening around her. “Because it’s going to happen again. We can make it happen. Aren’t we lucky, love?”

  “Yes, so lucky,” she murmured drowsily. “Can we do it again soon?”

  “Very soon, love. As soon as you’ve taken a little nap. You’ve had a hell of a day, and I think you deserve a little rest.”

  Day. It had been only one day, she realized with surprise. So many things had happened in that short space of time. Her lovely guitar, Yusef, the Silver Crescent. They all seemed as if they’d taken place in another century. Nothing was real but this moment in David’s arms. “Are you sure it’s not you who needs the rest?” she drawled, nibbling teasingly at his shoulder. “After all, it’s not many men who could withstand the temptation of a sexy wench like me.”

  “Sexy?”

  She nodded, her hands tangling in the soft mat of the hair on his chest. “Sexy. You’ve convinced me. If response equals sexuality, then I’m the randiest sex goddess on record.” She lifted her head to meet his lips in a long, sweet kiss. “See how I respond to you, David?”

  “Oh, yes, love.” His voice was throaty as one hand stroked her hair back from her face with gossamer gentleness. “Just as I respond to you. And I always will. Fifty years from now I’ll still want you if you do nothing more than smile at me or wrinkle your nose.”

  She stiffened against him as she felt a little frisson of uneasiness. “That’s a long time,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “I think I told you how I felt about forever.”

  His hand was still, and then continued its soothing stroking. “Don’t panic, love. I’m not trying to tie you down, as much as I’d like to. Stay with me as long as you can. That’s all I ask.”