by Ann Gimpel
Chapter Eight
“Do you suppose those cots would be stable if we pushed a couple of them together?” Tim glanced at her, his eyes glittering naughtily.
When she looked closely, he appeared drawn. Liam’s visitation aside, whatever Tim did tonight had obviously cost him.
“We might be better off making a nest out of foam pads and sleeping bags on the floor.” She hugged him briefly and then stepped back. “I’ll do that. Why don’t you drink some tea? We never did get much supper.”
He picked up the pot and tipped it. She saw his throat work as he drank, and bent to the task of nest building. By the time she felt his hands close around her waist from behind, she had a respectable heap of bedding piled against one wall.
Moira had been thinking as she pulled their bed together. “Do you believe Ryan’s really gone?”
“Oh, yeah. More than gone.”
She turned to face him. “What am I going to tell my boss?”
“What do you want to tell him?”
“The truth might be easiest, but somehow—”
“He wouldn’t believe you,” Tim cut in.
She snorted. “No. I can hardly believe it myself. Okay, guess I can stick with showing up here, finding Jake and Mitch, confronting Mitch about his dope—”
He laid a finger over her lips. “Ssht. We’ll have lots of time to figure that out. Right now, there are more important things. Things I’ve waited my whole life for.”
She cocked her head to one side, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch into a wide smile. “Oh, really? And what might those—”
He slashed his mouth down on hers and crushed her to him. This was nothing like the first kiss they’d shared. His lips were hard and insistent, his breathing fast. His tongue plumbed her mouth, and she sucked on it. His erection jutted against her almost immediately, and he made that incredible, possessive, growling noise deep in the back of his throat. Tim’s unique, exotic scent—musk mingled with heather—filled the tent. She inhaled hungrily.
Hands on her ass, he pulled her firmly against him. His cock jumped against her belly. Sexual heat churned through her. Her core turned molten, panties soaking through with wanting him. Her nipples hardened, and high voltage current coursed along her nerve endings all the way to her toes. She tugged at his jacket, wanting to get rid of the clothing between them.
Moira was desperate to feel him skin-to-skin against her. She craved his cock—needed it to fill the empty space deep in her belly that clamored for him.
He lifted his mouth from hers. Back arched, she pushed against him, wanting his lips again. Tim settled his hands on her shoulders. “Open those gorgeous, golden eyes, mo ghrá.”
When she did, panting, keen for more of him, she was surprised by how serious he looked. “It’s okay,” she managed, trying to figure out why he’d stopped, “I have an IUD.”
“Nay, mo ghrá,” was followed by a string of Gaelic.
She shook her head. “English, please. It’s been three years since Grandma died. My Irish is rusty.”
“I was asking if you’re sure you want this.”
She wondered how he could doubt that. Her hips writhed against him. “Yes.”
He shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his gaze augured into hers. “If we join our bodies, we’ll be wed. It’s an ancient Arch Druid ritual. In truth, we’ll be more than wed. You will have joined your soul to mine for all eternity.”
She drew away from him. Once she got enough space between their bodies so she could think, something nagged at her, and her next words came slowly. “I finally understand. That’s why you’d never have sex with me.” An unpleasant thought intruded. “Weren’t you sure you wanted to spend eternity with me back then?”
“I was sure, mo croi. But the covenant said I couldn’t wed—or have sex—until after my investiture as Arch Druid. And that wouldn’t happen until Liam’s death.”
She snorted. “It took a while, but I finally think I know who he is. Never made the connection when Grannie talked about him. He has to be the one with the long white beard. He used to scare the hell out of me when I was a kid. Besides, looks like he’s still very much alive.”
“That he is. It’s why he was willing to bend the rules. Of course, he didn’t excuse me from all the work I’ll have to do eventually to hone my magic.” Tim chuckled. “When the Druids drew up that covenant sometime during the thirteen or fourteen hundreds, the average lifespan wasn’t much more than thirty years. People who made fifty were ancient—”
“I don’t care about people who lived hundreds of years ago. I care about us. You asked if I was sure. Are you?” Moira felt a trembling deep in her belly. She wanted Tim to love her more than she’d ever wanted anything.
“When Gaia answered my call and helped me deal with Ryan, she reminded me you were my one true love. And told me not to blow it this time.”
He laughed. “Even without her friendly little boot in the seat of my pants, something about you resonates in here.” He tapped his breastbone. “You feel right in a way no one else ever has.” A hesitation. He dropped his gaze, and then raised it so he could look at her full on. “Your turn. Do you feel it too, mo ghrá?”
She nodded, unable to look away, her throat clotted with emotion. “Yes. I’ve always loved you. I left because I didn’t think you loved me.”
“So, does this means you’re sure?” he asked again. “There’s no going back once we cross this bridge.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. More than sure.” For the first time in her life, she felt absolutely certain she was doing the right thing. “Now can we lie down?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” His smile warmed her to the depths of her soul. “I want to look at you, Moira. Can you stand the cold long enough to let me undress you?”
“Funny, but I was about to ask you the same thing.”
He brought the candle lantern close and started with her jacket. As he stripped the layers off her body, he strung kisses across newly exposed flesh. When he drew her sports bra over her head and bent to take her breasts in hands and mouth, she arched against him.
He raised his lips from her breasts long enough to ask, “Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?”
“You make me feel beautiful.”
He started working on her pants, but she batted him aside. “Not fair. You still have everything on. This is starting to feel like a one-sided strip poker game.” She heard him make that husky little passionate sound again as she unzipped his borrowed down jacket. Next came his brightly patterned fuzzy jacket, a vest, and his long john top. With hands that were trembling a little, she ran her fingers over the well-defined muscles in his chest and torso. Golden hairs sprinkled lightly over his bare chest. Hard planes of muscle disappeared into the waistband of his pants.
Her breath stalled in her throat. Gorgeous. She’d never seen such a beautiful man before. He could have passed for one of the Greek gods.
“Mo ghrá? Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, incapable of speech. Bending her head, she licked one of his nipples and heard him gasp before he drew her close. His body felt extraordinary pressed against hers. His skin was alive where it touched her, hot and silky. She’d dreamed of what he’d feel like naked in her arms so many times. To finally have him in her arms was almost more than she could bear.
She raised her lips, and he brought his mouth down on hers. She felt hunger and desperation in that kiss—and love. The love she’d always craved from him, and never gotten before. She straddled one of his legs, rubbing herself against him. To know he wanted her as intensely as she wanted him stoked her lust. Every cell ached for release. A climax spooled deep inside. It wouldn’t take much to unleash it.
“Let’s get the rest of these clothes off.” He pulled her down onto the heap of sleeping bags, tugged one on top of them for warmth, and unzipped both layers of her pants.
“Boots,” she gasped. “Need one off.”
He moved down and busied himself with her bootlaces. He worked one heavy, leather boot off her foot, and then started on the other.
She pulled him into her arms. “One’s all I need.”
He kissed her again, taking his time as he nipped and licked her lips. She yanked one leg free of her pants and tackled freeing his cock. Maybe because she’d figured out how to work her way through the layers of fabric and down before, it went faster this time. She loved the feel of him, hot and hard in her hands.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice was rough with passion.
“You. Inside. Now.” She spread her legs and felt him settle on top of her. The head of his cock probed for entrance. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his back, and curved her body against him, feeling him sink his full length into her.
He supported himself on his arms and gazed tenderly at her. “You are my first, and you shall be my last, my one, my only love.” He waited, body quiet within her. “Now you,” he urged a bit breathlessly. “It’s the Druid wedding ceremony, although I’m sure Liam will do something more formal.”
“You are my first, and you shall be my last, my one, my only love,” she murmured, nearly overcome by the sentiment. “I love you.”
“And I love you. I always have. I always will.” He pulled nearly all the way out, then drove himself home inside her.
She could tell he was trying to make it last, but both of them were too hungry. They’d waited too long for each other as it was. The orgasm, dancing beneath the surface, rose closer and closer. The next time he sank inside her, she tightened her legs and ground her sensitive nub against the base of his cock.
He sensed her need and slammed into her, harsh, primal, fierce. His gaze never left hers. She felt his cock swell as her climax took her. Somewhere in the midst of her release, she felt him judder inside her. He cried out in Gaelic. Long moments passed before he let himself down on top of her, breath hot against her neck.
When she could talk again, she murmured. “That part about you being my first wasn’t exactly true. Will it matter?”
He rolled off her onto one side and propped his head on an elbow. Joy etched deep into his face, making him even more striking. He reached out a hand and lovingly stroked her breasts. “No, mo ghrá. What matters is that now we are bound, soul to soul, through this life and all lives to come. Have you ever made love like this, drowning in your partner’s eyes, in their spirit?”
“No.”
“Then the most important part of you came to me as a virgin. All is well.”
She cuddled against him. Peace enveloped her. She felt like a ship that had finally found port after a long and arduous journey at sea. Her hull had been breached, her sails ripped, but there was finally an opportunity to mend the rents in her soul.
Moira closed her eyes. She didn’t realize she’d drifted off, but Tim’s voice woke her.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Three Rivers and Fresno. Depends on the season. I own a home in Three Rivers. Or I think I do. Depends how the divorce comes out.”
“He’ll be declared dead once his body is found. As a macabre aside, it will be interesting to see where it is. Liam will marry us legally as soon as the ink’s dry on the death certificate.”
Tim sounded so sure about Ryan, she decided not to question him. Magic still unnerved her.
“Do you want to keep working?” he asked.
“Huh?” She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“You wouldn’t have to,” he murmured, his voice mellow against her ear.
“I-I’m not sure. Besides, after I file my report on what happened to my trail crew, I may not even have a job.”
“We don’t have to make any decisions right now. I’m sure I can find another medically underserved area around Fresno and transfer the last year I owe the U.S. government for paying for my schooling. Or you could move to Bishop.”
Sleep tugged at her eyelids. It had to be well past midnight. “Morning—” she began sleepily, fitting her body to his. “We can figure things out in the morning and after that too.”
“Sure, love, we’ll talk more then.” He cradled her against him and stroked her hair.
* * * *
When she opened her eyes, it was unnaturally quiet. The soft sound of Tim’s breathing filled her ears. The howl of the wind had died. She scrabbled on the floor for her watch, not wanting to disturb him.
My God!
She tapped the crystal with a grimy finger, not believing it could possibly be noon. Moira started to slip out of bed. She wanted to look outside to assess just how much more snow had fallen.
Tim stirred. He reached out a hand, closed it around her wrist, and made a sleepy, satisfied male sound.
She laughed, surprised by how happy she felt. “Let go, silly. I want to put my clothes on and take a look outside.”
“Storm’s over.”
She looked at him. “Well, I don’t hear the wind anymore, but how can you know?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s another gift from the gods. I dreamed about several of them last night. I think they were pleased to hear from me again.”
“You’re feeling better about your Druid roots and vows.”
He turned a brilliant smile her way. “Maybe I’m not the only one who’s prescient. Liam tried to explain how everything needed an opposite, but I don’t think I truly understood until I called up the side of the magic I’ve always hated last night.”
An odd expression—sheepish and resolute at the same time—crossed his face. “I didn’t just summon destruction. I embraced it with my entire being. And I’d do it again in an instant if you were threatened. One of the things I plan to do, after we get out of here, is tell Liam he was right.”
“I guess you’re seriously considering the Arch Druid thing.” She quirked a brow his way.
He cocked his head to one side. “Yes, mo ghrá, I am. Once I’ve paid my debt to the government. Would you mind?”
She touched his face with tentative fingers, still coming to grips with the fact her one true love had dropped out of the sky and back into her life. “No. I wouldn’t mind at all. I want you to do what feels right.”
He closed a hand over hers. A beatific smile lit his face. “I love you. It’s so wonderful to finally be free to tell you that.” He reached for his clothes. “Time to get going and see what gifts this day will bring.”
“I don’t need any more gifts.” Joy, an unfamiliar emotion, warmed her. “You were the only one I ever wanted.”
“Mo ghrá—” He kissed her, and the warmth of his embrace lit a path all the way to her soul. Maybe it was the Druid wedding ceremony, but she felt the bond linking her to Tim as if it had a life of its own, and she reveled in the rightness of it.
She’d just fastened the last of her outer clothing and laced up the boot she hadn’t slept in when she heard the whirr of chopper blades. Moira ran to the door and yanked it open. When she waded out into thigh deep snow, she was rewarded by the sight of a helicopter circling.
How the hell is the pilot going to land?
“Grab a couple shovels,” she called over her shoulder. “Hurry. We have to hog out a platform for the chopper.”
She and Tim were shoveling as fast as they could when Jake and Christine joined them. It didn’t take long to clear a forty by forty foot square. The four of them dropped back to be out of the way of the rotor wash when the bird’s skids kissed the earth.
John Musgrove, five foot ten and burly, clambered out of the helicopter as soon as it touched down. He loped through the snow and stood facing her. With his brown hair in its usual crew cut, his rigid bearing practically screamed ex-Marine. Deep worry lines were etched in his forehead and cheeks.
He muttered, “Aw, to hell with protocol,” before he swept her into a bear hug. “Thank Christ you’re okay,” he said as he stepped away from her. “This has been a hell of a season for deaths.”
His gaze strayed to Ja
ke and Christine. He walked the few steps to where they stood and held out a gloved hand. “We’re taking you home,” he said, his voice gruff. “And we’re paying you double for this trip.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” Jake began.
“Shut up.” John punched his shoulder affectionately. “Beyond that, you’ve been working for us for years. Isn’t it time you signed up for a real job?”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes. Really. You’re in. Ask Betty for the paperwork once you get back. I’ve already signed it. You too, Christine.”
“Wow! Thanks, sir.” Her face broke into a grin, then she shook her head. “Don’t feel right to be happy just yet. Too many ain’t comin’ back from this trip at all.”
“Yeah, thanks, sir. Uh, Mr. Musgrove.” Jake sounded so nonplussed, Moira gave him a hug.
“It’ll be all right,” she said. “You’ll see. Maybe they’ll let both of you be my assistants on trips like this.”
She turned to John. “What do you want to do about the rest of the crew? And the mules?” Even before the words were out, she wondered if she’d be able to find any of the bodies without search and rescue dogs.
John looked at her. “It’s the weirdest thing. Just like it was a freak storm, we also weren’t expecting this break in the weather. It’s supposed to close in for at least three more days by tonight. Once it clears—and we get some meltage—I’ll send a crew in from Cedar Grove with dogs to round up the bodies and the stock.” He grimaced. “Probably won’t be much left of the remains by then, but it can’t be helped.”
He clapped his hands together. “Get your things. We’ve got time for two or three chopper trips, tops. So hurry.”
He looked at Tim and frowned. “Who are you?”
“I ran into him on the trail,” Moira said. “He’s a doctor who lives in Bishop. And a very old friend of mine. We grew up together.”
“Not sure quite what you were doing on the trail.” John eyed Tim sharply, no doubt taking in his borrowed U.S. Park Service clothing. “Judging from your duds, I’m betting this woman probably saved your life.”
