His mouth closed over her nipple, coaxing it to hardness, and she arched upward, moaning his name over and over again breathlessly, fingers digging deeply into his back. “Please,” she cried, “now…please…” Caressing her heated flesh, he stroked the sensitive skin of her thighs, asking entrance to the moist dampness of her yielding body. A fiery hunger seemed to consume her, and she arched to meet him, fusing with him in a primal explosion of volcanic need. Now they were molded into one, the throbbing rhythm sending them to higher and higher levels of exquisite pleasure. Reaching the pinnacle, she froze in ecstasy within his strong embrace, then pressed against his damp body as she felt him tense and shudder, their hearts beating wildly in unison.
A smothering joy enveloped her as she reached out, the flat of her palm against the stubbled roughness of his face. Sam caressed her, taking a deep breath of air. “God, how I love you,” he said thickly.
Twelve
They awoke at exactly six, still clasped in each other’s arms. As Dany slowly awoke through the process of bathing and toweling off, it dawned upon her that today was the first of the three tests: dressage. Wrapping the yellow towel around her body, she walked back into the bedroom where Sam was still dozing and began to dress for the event. Climbing into her white breeches and blouse, she felt that she was still wrapped in a blanket of happiness. She was back in the bathroom coaxing her hair into its neat chignon when she saw Sam enter. His hair was tousled and his eyes still filled with sleep as he slid his arms around her waist, drawing her back against him. Dany smiled, closing her eyes, loving his closeness.
“I don’t sleep well when you aren’t beside me,” he breathed against her ear, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“I could come back to bed, but who will get Altair ready for the dressage test at eight?” she teased, relishing his hard-muscled arms around her.
He raised one eyebrow, lifting his head and staring at her in the mirror. “Good question. Still, I vote for the bed.”
Dany turned in his arms, facing him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Sam rocked her gently back and forth in his arms. “Sure am. It’s all your fault, you know. I was going to wait until this show was over to propose to you, lady. I had it all planned. We’d take a couple of days off and go back into the interior. I wanted to woo you with the beauty of the land at its best and then catch you in a mellow moment so that you would be forced to say yes.”
She basked in the tenderness of his gaze, reaching up and taming the unruly strands of hair. “Yes to what? I willingly went to bed with you.”
He leaned back against the doorframe, cradling her against him. “Is that all you thought I wanted from you? Bed?” he questioned.
Dany caught the seriousness in his eyes and the inflection in his voice. She had been happy and teased him instead of responding to that pensive look dwelling in his pewter gray eyes. A blush swept up her neck and across her face. “Well—I—”
“I told you last night I loved you, Dany. Bed’s only a small part of it.” He looked around the bathroom, a smile edging his mouth. “This is a hell of a place to propose, you know that?”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and stood there resting against his naked body. His smile deepened.
“Well? Will you be my friend, my lover and my wife?”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she opened her mouth and then closed it. He was so right for her; he had been her friend in every sense of the word since their first meeting and it was an ingredient she had sought in her first marriage and found sadly lacking. Sam caressed her cheek, cupping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Just nod yes or no,” he coaxed.
Dany nodded and Sam picked her up, nearly crushing her in his impulsive embrace. Finally, she gave a half sob and half laugh as he set her back on her feet. He led her from the bathroom and in one deft motion picked her up, carrying her back to his room, depositing her on the bed. She snuggled into his awaiting arms, burying her head against his shoulder, yearning simply to be held, feeling his heart beat like a solid drum against her breast.
“You give me so much happiness,” she whispered brokenly.
“Mmm,” he growled close to her ear, “it’s mutual, honey, believe me.”
“I never dreamed…” she choked out.
Sam rested above her, absently stroking her bound hair. “What?” he urged.
Dany wiped the tears away. “Oh, my riding master, Terrence,” she blurted out softly. She sniffed again. “He always told me to chase the clouds, to go after what I wanted and never be afraid to try it.”
“Sounds like a wise old man.”
Dany met his warming gaze, melting inwardly. “I loved you from the moment I saw you, Sam, and I was afraid to admit it. Thank God I had the courage to come out West with you.”
Sam smiled patiently. “And here we’ve been fighting like cats and dogs all this time. The instant I saw you it was as if I’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. I was desperate to know you better.” He raised his head, frowning. “I think I would have moved heaven and hell to have that privilege, Dany. I knew you were frightened and you were still carrying too many fresh scars from your marriage.” He gazed down at her fondly. “Dany, you made my blood run like no woman ever has. Maybe it was your vulnerability, I don’t know. You have so much strength of character and I saw it every time you handled Altair, and at the same time, you had the capacity to know when to lean and give in when you were feeling weak.”
She gave a small laugh. “I learned a long time ago that pride is the first of my emotions that is expendable. Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be the first to fall into your arms when I feel like it.”
“That’s another nice thing about us I like,” he murmured, kissing her brow. “We both can say we were wrong and make up. Compromise is so much a part of a successful marriage and I think with one another we have that very rare ingredient.”
She nodded, glancing at her watch. “Sam, do you realize in an hour I have to be in the ring?”
He sighed, a quizzical smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Spoken like a true horsewoman. You want to leave me for that stallion, is that it?”
She laughed, sitting up on the edge of the bed, straightening out her white blouse. “Give the choice, I’ll pick you.”
He got up, turning on the shower. “That does my ego a world of good. Give me ten minutes and then we’ll get over to the barn area. Pete ought to have him ready to go by the time we get there.”
* * *
The dressage arena had a solid sand base, making footing for the demanding performance of the three-day eventers excellent. Dany sat quietly on Altair waiting for her number to be called next. A large crowd was watching as horses and riders put themselves through the strenuous, demanding test, politely clapping after each performance. Altair chewed on the snaffle bit, white flecks of foam appearing at the corners of his mouth. Pete patiently wiped his muzzle clean with a damp cloth, patting the horse.
Sam stood at her knee, his hand resting on her thigh. “You’re going to knock ’em dead,” he said, looking up at her, his mood serious.
She gave a nod. Of the three tests, this was the easiest. The one she dreaded the most was tomorrow morning. “He’s ready,” she agreed, rubbing the stallion’s neck fondly.
“He’ll do fine in that snaffle for you,” Sam noted. “Tomorrow you’ll probably want to switch to the hackamore.”
“For the cross-country and the in-stadium jumping,” she agreed. It was nearly impossible to have contact with the horse’s sensitive mouth without a bit in the dressage portion. Dany said a silent prayer that Altair would continue to bend and flex to her invisible hand movements and do as she asked. Her number, twenty-two, was called and she gathered up the reins. Altair immediately tensed, standing alertly, waiting for the next order.
“Good luck, honey,” Sam called, stepping away. He gave her a warm, intimate smile that sent her confidence soaring.
Dressage was the epitom
e of balance and teamwork between horse and human. At the Grand Prix level it was an art; the horse and rider moved together through the intricate steps in a fluid motion. Stopping at the judges’ stand, Dany nodded curtly to the three and then swung Altair to one end of the immaculate arena. There was a hushed silence over the crowd. Every fifty to sixty feet a letter was placed along the rail around the oval arena. The rider had to memorize in advance the dressage pattern and at the exact moment the horse paralleled the black and white letter, he was asked to change gait or execute a different delicate, demanding pattern.
Altair flexed beautifully; he was fully on the snaffle, his large nostrils flared, ears back toward his rider and attentive for the signals to come. His copper coat shone like red brass in the early morning sunlight as he broke into a brilliantly extended trot, his long legs thrusting out to their maximum length. It was rare that the dressage crowd would ever whisper or make any noise to break the concentration of horse to rider, but a small ripple of awe passed through the multitude as the stallion’s beautifully controlled movements flowed like molten copper into each demanding step.
With the test completed, Dany kept her face straight and serious, bringing Altair back to the center of the arena and once again nodded to the judges, before leaving the ring. She fastened her gaze on Sam in the distance as she rode out at a slow trot, unanimous applause breaking wildly in back of them. Once clear of the crowd, Dany slipped off Altair, giving him an enthusiastic hug. Sam came over, grinning broadly.
“Look at that.” He pointed at the scoreboard. “A 72! That’s the best score here today. Congratulations.” He swept her into his arms, kissing her soundly.
She laughed, returning his hug, stunned by Altair’s near-perfect performance. Pete clapped her on the back and, smiling happily, led Altair back to the boxstall while Dany and Sam followed behind at a leisurely pace.
“You don’t want to stick around and watch the competition?” Sam asked.
She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t stand the tension.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “He was wonderful, Sam! What a perfect gentleman!”
He rested his arm across her shoulders drawing her near. “Altair has always come through for me when I really needed him at his best. He’s giving you the same now, honey. I think tomorrow will make all the difference in the world. You’re going to feel safe on him, Dany.”
Her ebullient mood ebbed a bit at the horrifying thought of the cross-country. She resisted the fear that was eating a hole in her confidence, remembering how Altair had saved her life the night of the cattle stampede during the storm. Between Sam’s love and Altair’s surefootedness, she had little to worry about. Stealing a glance up at Sam’s handsome face, she murmured, “Terrence would skin me alive if I didn’t ride that wonderful stallion tomorrow. He’d shake his finger, scowl and give me the dickens.”
“Well,” Sam murmured gruffly, leaning down and kissing her hair, “I think good loving will do the same thing. What do you think?”
She rested against his strong body. “I think you’re right, darling.”
* * *
It was the first day of the rest of her life and Dany knew it. She sat astride the prancing red stallion who snorted with charged vitality as they waited their turn to begin the three-mile cross-country course. Sam had been right: By holding her and loving her all night long he had chased back the fear and put it into proper perspective. She had awakened earlier glorying in the joyous feelings of being loved and loving in return. And it was as if the stallion had sensed her newly found confidence, his flaxen tail lifting and flowing like white silk in the early morning breeze that caressed the demanding course. Today she wore her hard hat, a pair of canary yellow breeches, her black knee-high boots and a white T-shirt with the number twenty-two attached to the front and back of it.
Her mind was zeroed in on the eighteen jumps that would stress and challenge even the most seasoned eventer. Altair hadn’t jumped in nine months, and she was aware that he was rusty. She would have to make up the difference. Altair was allowing her to take charge, and he was responsive—something Sam had said he had never done with any of his other riders. She leaned down, rubbing his neck in a soothing circular motion, feeling him relax beneath her gloved hand.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jean coming up on his beautiful French thoroughbred. The animal shone like fine steel in the sunlight, moving well beneath Jean’s skillful hands.
“Congratulations on your dressage score, ma chérie,” he greeted, pulling the gelding he rode to a halt.
Dany’s eyes narrowed distrustfully. “Not bad for a ‘cow horse,’ is that it?”
Jean grinned mirthlessly, eyeing the sorrel stallion with a measuring stare. “No, being number two in the standings is not bad at all,” he agreed. “Still, that is only one-third of the entire score.” His voice dropped, lined with a threat. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up on the ground somewhere on this course today. Did you see that earthen wall? Jump number fourteen? The horses will be tired by the time they reach that devil. I’ll bet that half of them won’t make the steep angle of it and fall backward.”
“Fourteen is negotiable if you get the proper takeoff point,” she said, angry over his suggestion that Altair would not finish the course.
Jean shrugged. “Oui. After scaling that monster it is an eight-foot vertical drop on the other side to the water below it. I understand your cow horse hates water. I wonder what he’ll do once he sees it? Balk at the top? Rear and sunfish over backward taking you with him?”
She compressed her lips, gathering up the reins to the hackamore. “You aren’t scaring me any more, Jean,” she warned, her voice cold with fury. “This horse is more surefooted than any other animal here. I’ll bet my life on it.”
He smiled thinly. “You may just do that. Anyway, good luck. It’s the least I can do for my lovely ex-wife under the circumstances.”
“There’s no luck involved, Jean, you ought to know that,” she flung back, urging Altair as far away from him as she could get. Anger wove with her confidence, and suddenly, all the butterfly feelings in her stomach ceased. She heard their number being called and trotted Altair up to the chute.
The timer glanced down at his stopwatch, holding a white flag up. Dany swallowed hard, lips flattened, narrowing her perception to the course. The stallion was restive, his small, fine ears flicking back and forth nervously. She glanced to her left, meeting, catching Sam’s gaze. In that instant the last of her uncertainty disappeared, and she squeezed the horse’s barrel hard with her calves and knees as the buzzer sounded.
Altair lunged forward and the wind sheared at her face making her eyes water from the terrific speed built up within seconds by the thoroughbred. She allowed Altair to stretch to full stride, then she checked him with the hackamore, feeling him immediately slow down his approach to the first fence. She cued him at the exact moment that she wanted him to lift off. The stallion raised his front legs, tucking them high and close to his belly, sailing effortlessly across the four-and-a-half-foot wall which consisted of rough-cut logs. Dany shouted praise in his ear, and she felt a new, strange elation pushing off all of her fears. Just the steadiness of Altair’s ground-eating stride was soothing, and her world narrowed to counting off strides, and sizing up the dangerous jumps as they flew along at a dizzying pace.
The first six jumps were warm-ups compared to the next series, and Dany sat deep in the saddle forcing the horse to stretch to his maximum length as the next jump, a triple combination, loomed ahead. Unlike stadium jumps, the cross-country jumps were composed of natural elements for the most part. Logs did not move, stone was solid and earth did not yield. If an eventer hit log, stone or earth, it could end up in a split-second catastrophe.
She heard Altair exhaling great jets of air through his flared nostrils and felt the incredible strength and suppleness of his body moving solidly beneath her as she raised up in the saddle, leaning forward, releasing some of the pressure again
st the hackamore. The triple combination was composed of earth, logs and brush jammed in between the logs. The stallion launched, his powerful hindquarters propelling them up the slanting combination, forcing him to stretch the full length of his tremendous body. The brush slapped at his legs and belly, and Altair tucked his hind legs deep beneath him as they cleared the obstacle, landing heavily into a pool of muddied water. Snorting loudly, Altair’s ears pinned against his neck as he lunged up onto dry land at Dany’s coaxing.
Shouts of spectators roared into her consciousness as she swung him sharply up into the thickly wooded hills toward the most challenging jumps. She wasn’t going to push Altair at a wild, uncontrolled gallop just to get the time. He was in magnificent condition and moving easily beneath her urging. His life wasn’t worth a few seconds on the clock. All she wanted to do was finish the course in one piece with the horse.
They negotiated twelve and thirteen handily, the footing becoming slippery because of the morning’s heavy dew. There were spectators all along the course, and as she rounded a steeply inclined hill, Dany saw television cameras poised near the fourteenth jump. The seconds seemed like a lifetime as she called to Altair and the stallion attacked the hill. The earthen bank was four feet above the ground with two logs and a small space on the top of it. It meant an all-out effort to make that leap to the bank and then in the next half-stride, they would have to sail off into space over the jump that dropped vertically for eight feet into yet another water hole.
Her hands tightened on the slippery reins. Altair’s breathing came in huge enginelike chugs as he threw himself upward toward the bank. Dany rose in the saddle, signaling Altair. Clamping her knees like steel against his barrel, Dany rose perpendicular as the stallion lifted his front end. She literally stood at an angle in the stirrups, body straining over his neck, reins loose so that he could use his neck as a balancing lever. Everything became a blur as the horse sprang like a coiled spring. In a second, they were on top of the bank, clawing at the slippery conditions. Dany felt Altair wobble and threw her weight the opposite direction, giving him his head to rebalance himself. The stallion righted himself and in the same instant was leaping over the poles off the shelf of the bank, airborne, plunging down, his front legs extended like long shock absorbers as they hit the water. The water was belly deep, and Dany fell against Altair’s neck, off balance, muddy water surrounding them. Blindly, she gripped his mane, calling him, asking him to go beyond the limits of even his endurance and climb out of the precarious conditions.
Chase the Clouds Page 14
