Opal Fires

by Lynda Trent

  “Clare, I have to tell you something.” What if she is seeing Anderson, Ryan thought. And even if she wasn’t, could she ever learn to trust him if she knew he’d been to bed with a friend of hers? No, he couldn’t take the chance. “It’s about the well on the land just north of here. They’ve had to abandon it as a dry hole.”

  Only the music of the river and the call of mockingbirds broke the silence.

  “That’s only a mile away,” she said at last. “Are they sure it’s dry? There’s no mistake?”

  “No, there’s no mistake. The crew was pulling out this morning.” Seeing the look on her face, Ryan wondered if this had hurt her as badly as hearing about his indiscretion with Regina.

  “Then my well may be dry, too,” she said numbly. This was a possibility that she had never dared voice before.

  “I’ve drilled a lot of wells, honey,” Ryan said. “You get to the point where you can sense whether or not one will pan out, and yours feels good. I’d stake everything on it being a good producer.”

  “But what if it isn’t!” Clare looked about her at the land she loved so well. How could she bear to lose it?

  “I have no reason to believe your well is dry. The last core samples looked promising. We just aren’t deep enough yet. I’m placing an order for more pipe tomorrow. That’ll be

  enough to take us to the depth of the other producers. The dry hole north of here may not mean a thing. We aren’t about to give your well up.”

  “I can’t give it up,” she whispered as she fought back tears. “I can’t.”

  Again Ryan wondered if he was right about Clare. Through the trees, he could glimpse the weather-beaten gray house. Quietly, he took her into his arms. He couldn’t care less if she had money or a prestigious family tree; he had enough of both to satisfy her.

  “I love you, Clare,” he said softly.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, a gentle rain began to fall.

  “Look,” Clare exclaimed, struggling to hide her worry, “the sun is shining as it rains. Maybe it’s a sign.”

  The crystal drops of rain clung to the leaves, surrounding them in a magic bower of tiny rainbows. A shaft of weak sunlight made the failing rain look like a shower of diamonds and the soft hiss was like a fairy song.

  Clare looked up at Ryan, raindrops and tears glistening on her long dark eyelashes. Her soft lips were slightly parted to reveal her white teeth and her cheeks were as rosy as if she had been running.

  “Clare,” he said softly.

  He bent his lips to touch hers and kissed her long and slowly, with a depth of feeling that shook them both. The gentle rain touched them, caressed them and seemed to enclose them in a place of their own.

  Clare ran her fingers through his hair, now damp from the rain. A sigh escaped her.

  “I’m tired of games, Clare,” he said as he held her close. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid to trust me, but you should know by now that you can. I need to know where I stand with you. If you don’t love me, say so, but don’t keep me wondering.” He waited for her answer.

  As suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped and a bird flew into the tree above their heads.

  “I want you, Ryan,” she answered at last. “I’m terribly afraid of it, but I do. I can’t say what you want to hear. Not yet. It’s not that I don’t feel it, but the words are hard for me.”

  Only then did he realize he had been holding his breath. “Do you, love? Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I’ve tried not to, but I do. I told myself I’d never let myself be so vulnerable again, but I can’t seem to help it.”

  “You made it sound like a sentence,” he said disappointedly.

  “Oh, no. Never that. I was afraid. I still am. I don’t want to be one of several. I’ve never been very good at sharing.”

  “I don’t want to share you, either. There’s no one else.”

  Could she believe him? she wondered. Regina had been so convincing.

  Ryan kissed her and held her as if he’d never let her go. She felt the strong, steady throb of his heart against her cheek and the security of his arms. Slowly, Clare fired to release her last inhibitions. Yet her fear was too strong. To tell Ryan she loved him would be a commitment, and she didn’t want that. Not as long as the shadow of Regina hovered near. “Please give me a little more time,” she said.

  She felt so small and defenseless in his arms. Ryan was newly amazed at the protectiveness she aroused in him, as well as the passion. He felt he would never be able to touch her enough or hear her voice too often. He was willing to wait for her love, no matter how long it might take.

  Clare felt her heart race in time with his and she pressed closer to him, moving her cheek against the smooth texture of his pullover shirt. Marveling at the way her mind seemed to entwine and mingle with his, Clare lifted her head for his kiss.

  His lips were warm and sensuous and Clare felt a mellowing fire envelop her. “Let’s go home,” she whispered, when she could bring herself to speak. “I want you.”

  A tiny muscle moved in his jaw as he gazed down at her. “Let’s so, love,” he said, taking her hand in his.

  Once more she looked around the green glade. “This will always be our special place,” she sighed. “It was the magic rain, I think.” She fell into step beside him.

  The posture was green with new grass, and buttercups had recently sprung up and blossomed beside the crimson Indian paintbrushes. Queen Anne’s lace softened the riot of spring colors with its delicate snow, and several lemon-yellow butterflies fluttered above the flowers.

  “It’s a perfect day,” Clare sighed happily, avoiding a clump of wild violets that still sparkled with raindrops.

  “In spite of the rain?” Ryan asked. “I thought women complained if their feet got wet,” he teased. Small droplets of water glistened in her hair.

  “Not me. I love rain. Besides, I’m with the most wonderful man in the world, and he’s in love with me.”

  Ryan caught her hand and pulled her to a stop. “Does that mean you’re no longer afraid of loving me?”

  “I don’t know if what we have will last,” she said seriously. “Maybe what we feel is too strong and will burn itself out. Maybe when you get to know me…” she paused. “For however long it lasts, I want to be with you. I’ve never felt like this before and it’s a little scary.”

  Clare glanced back at the dark path they had left in the wet grass and smiled. “I’m going to want to be with you for as long as you let me. Probably even longer. Besides,” she said mischievously, “I think I can beat you to the house.” Without warning, she sprinted away, running with the sheer joy of living.

  Ryan laughed and ran after her, close on her heels but allowing her the lead. At the porch, she ran up the steps two at a time, but Ryan stretched his long legs and leaped straight onto the porch and reached the covered dog-run a split second before she did.

  “That’s no fair!” she gasped, happily out of breath. “You didn’t go up the steps!”

  “We never mentioned that,” he teased. “We were racing to the house, not the steps.”

  She collapsed against the door and giggled like a school girl as she fought to catch her breath. “I must be getting out of shape,” she wheezed.

  “No, you’re just getting old,” he comforted her. “Your shape is just fine.”

  “Oh!” she laughed, swatting at him playfully. “I’ll get you for that!”

  Ryan bent over her and kissed her into silence. Suddenly, they were both serious; he kissed her again, more deliberately. “I love you, Clare.”

  “Hush, Ryan,” she begged. “I can’t”

  “Then don’t say anything,” he interrupted. “But I’m going to keep telling you until you get used to the idea. Until you can admit that you love me, too.”

  “Ryan”

  “Be quiet.”

  He drew her into his arms and she felt his tongue tease her lips, urging her to respond. She returned his kiss with growing passio
n letting her tongue meet his and explore.

  “You make me feel shameless and abandoned,” she murmured when he released her. “Also, a little bawdy.”

  “Only a little? I’ll have to work on that.”

  Holding hands, they walked across the covered alleyway and gazed up into the thick, bottle-green umbrella of the old chinaberry tree. A breeze ruffled the leaves and was captured in the cool porch.

  How strange life is, Clare thought. If things had worked out differently, I would have brought Ryan home to meet my parents there in that very living room. They would have loved him, she mused. Reality again inserted itself and she sighed. No, things could never have worked out that differently. He was in love with the heiress to the Marshall fortune, not the girl she had been.

  “How long has it been since this house was lived in?” Ryan asked. “It seems to be in good condition.”

  “About four years. The structure is better than it looks. It needs paint and a new roof.”

  Ryan lifted a small cross made of horseshoe nails from the wall. Clare felt a tug of memory. Her mother had hung it there and said it would protect and bless their home. That had been the year before Clare had gone to college.

  Carefully, Ryan replaced the homemade cross. “Who lived here?”

  Clare swallowed and said, “A family named O’Brian. He died four years ago and she only lived three months longer. They were very close.” She hoped she wouldn’t cry. Not now.

  “Did you know them well?” Ryan asked without looking at her.

  “Quite well.” Clare walked purposefully down the front steps and into the yard. “Let’s go, Ryan. I feel too cold with these damp clothes on.”

  Clare was silent on the way to town and during dinner, and Ryan wondered if he had gone too far with his questions. Yet he still couldn’t see Clare Marshall living in the small cottage. He wondered if he were mistaken, but somehow knew he wasn’t. All evening he tried to think of some tactful way to tell her that her background was not important to him.

  When they drove back to her house, Clare took his hand and they went upstairs.

  “Should I move my car?” he asked as she turned on a lamp. “I don’t want you to feel compromised.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care about that. The neighbors can’t see the house from the street, and even if they could, it doesn’t matter.” She paused in flicking back the bedcovers. “Unless, of course, you would rather not take the chance. Someone could always drive up.” Like Regina, she thought sickly.

  “In that case, woman, come here and be compromised,” he grinned.

  He removed Clare’s clothing slowly, kissing each new part he exposed. Clare moaned with excitement and helped him out of his clothes until they stood naked in the dim light.

  “You get more beautiful every day,” he assured her.

  Clare raised her arms and loosened her hair, then shook her head to tumble it down her slender back. “I never knew making love could be so much fun!” She stretched like a cat in warm sunshine, rubbing her body against his.

  Ryan watched her with amusement. “You’re shameless.” he confirmed, “and more than a little bawdy.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, teasing the curve of his neck with the tip of her tongue. “I think I may be just that.”

  Unable to wait any longer, Ryan led her to the bed and pulled her down onto the silken sheets. Kissing her hungrily, he caressed her breast and gently rolled the already erect nipple between his fingers. Her low moan of ecstasy fired him to the depths of his being, and he lowered his face to her breast.

  His tongue teased her nipple, licking faster and faster, flicking the tautness into flame. Gently, he took it into his mouth, and she arched her back to meet him.

  She felt him stroke her side, her stomach, her thighs, then push her legs apart. As his fingers played in the dark curls and moved even deeper into her most secret place, Clare moaned. Ryan left her breast and moved his face downward, leaving a trail of kisses across her flat stomach, while his other hand toyed with her breast.

  Suddenly, Clare felt his tongue between her legs, arousing her in a way she had never experienced. He chuckled at her exclamation of surprise and she felt the growing need begin to skyrocket deep inside her. The sensation she had learned only in his arms began to claim her, possess her. With a cry, she felt herself swept up to the highest peak and plunged into the space of delight as wave after wave of pleasure thundered through her.

  Then, and only then, did he come into her. She gasped at the hard warmth of his manhood as he possessed her with tender passion. Again and again, he played her body like a fine musical instrument, bringing her to one soaring crescendo after another. At last, he could wait no longer for his own fulfullment, and with a shuddering moan he gave himself totally to her.

  They lay locked in each other’s arms, lightly dozing, only to wake, murmur words of contentment, touch a cheek with wonder, brush back a lock of hair. Then to drift again into sleep.

  At last, Ryan reached across her and turned off the small lamp. “You’re beautiful in the moonlight, too,” he whispered as he nuzzled in her soft hair. “In the daylight, your skin is silver. In the sunset, it was golden. Now it’s silver again. I’m looking forward to seeing it in the dawn light.”

  Clare ran her hand over the hardness of his muscled arm. “You’ll stay with me all night?”

  “If you want me to. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Stay. Never leave me, Ryan. Never.” She cuddled sleepily into the curve of his arm and pillowed her head on his shoulder.

  Ryan lay his head back onto the pillow, his cheek against her forehead. “I love you,” he said.

  Clare heard him as she drifted into sleep, and she smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dawn turned the room to a pale pink, less flamboyant than a sunset, as if it were reluctant to awake those who slept.

  Clare opened her eyes and blinked sleepily. Languorous memories of the night’s loving made her smile. When she looked over at Ryan, she found he was propped up on one elbow, watching her.

  ”Good morning,” he said. “In the dawn, your skin turns rosy.”

  “How long have you been awake?” she asked, touching his face lovingly.

  “Only a little while. I’ve been watching you sleep. Did you know you are also beautiful then?”

  Clare laughed. “Oh, Ryan. You’re incurably romantic.” She ruffled his hair playfully.

  “Complaining?”

  “No,” she answered softly. “Just being thankful.”

  When they made love this time, it was slowly and tenderly. The new familiarity of their bodies did nothing to dispel the wonder they felt. Each time was like the first to them.

  “I love you,” he said gently. “I think you love me,

  “Please, Ryan, don’t try to pin me down.” She turned aside.

  “Clare, why are you like this? I thought women always wanted to know a man is in love with them.”

  Had he learned that from previous experience? Clare wondered. Had Regina been telling the truth about his infatuation with her? Clare moved away from him.

  “Don’t turn away like that. Look at me.” He made her face him. “Do you love me?”

  “I care a great deal about you,” she hedged. “When I don’t see you, I’m miserable. And, when I do, I’m happy. Last night was wonderful, as are all the times we make love. I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone.”

  “But do you love me?”

  “I don’t know,” Clare had to admit. “Please try to understand and be patient. I don’t know if this is love or not. I only know I don’t want to lose you and I’m afraid.”

  Ryan drew her close to comfort her. “I don’t understand you, Clare.”

  “I don’t understand myself,” she agreed. How very easy it would be to allow herself to return his love! If only she knew if he were telling her the truth.

  “Ryan, just hold me,” she sighed. “Don’t let me think or do
ubt you. Just hold me.”

  When Ryan left Clare later that morning, he didn’t notice the dark blue Cadillac that drove in front of him.

  Regina watched him in her rearview mirror and tried to calm her anger. So Clare had let him spend the night, had she? And he had stayed! He hadn’t left afterward as he had the night they had been together. Regina sped up and raced through the yellow light that turned red for Ryan. Jealousy blazed over her, making her face hard and calculating.

  “We’ll see about that, Clare,” she muttered. “We’ll see who gets him in the end.”

  She altered her route to drive by Neal Thorndyke’s house. He was a source of information that had proved invaluable to her. If there was anything derogatory about Clare’s past or anything unsavory about her present, Neal was likely to know.

  His car was in the drive and Regina pulled in behind it.

  Clare was amazed at the fire of passion Ryan stirred in her. He just had to look at her to cause her pulse to quicken, and the mere sound of his voice could drive all previous thoughts from her head. She’d never seen anyone who could affect her in such an alarming yet very pleasurable way.

  The one block to Clare loving him totally and unequivocably was Regina. Not only were they thrown together at Kilgore’s many social functions, Regina had developed an annoying habit of stopping by to see Clare at odd times of the day. Whenever possible, Clare told Betty to say she wasn’t home, but often Regina simply drove up when Clare happened to be out in the yard or on the broad porch, and then escape was impossible.

  Always, Regina brought Ryan’s name into the conversation, and always Clare felt a knife twist in her stomach. Sometimes Regina merely dropped his name as if she were accustomed to saying it; sometimes she mentioned a play or movie they had seen and what he had later told her about this or that scene.

  Since these reports always tallied exactly with the times he was not with her, Clare didn’t know what to think. If Regina was lying, how did she know when he was there and when he was not? Because Clare wasn’t of a suspicious nature ordinarily, she never noticed how often a certain Cadillac was parked just down the street from her driveway. Or the blonde woman that watched from inside.