Where The Heart Is

by Sheridon Smythe

  Heart suddenly aching for what might have been, she clasped his hand and followed him through the cave. Once inside the small room she took the candle and knelt beside the skeleton of what had once been her father. With a trembling hand, she grazed the brim of his hat and murmured a soft prayer.

  "I didn't even know his name,” she said quietly, comforted by the knowledge that he stood behind her. Just as she started to rise, she caught the glint of gold on the cave floor near the man's hand. With a cry, she picked up the gold wedding band and held it out. “See? He was going to marry my mother!"

  Elliot took the ring and examined it. “There's an inscription on the inside of the band, but I can't make it out in this light.” He glanced at her excited face, his smile crooked. “Seems you were right, Natalie. The man obviously intended to marry your mother."

  She took the ring and slipped it into her pocket. Holding the candle, she approached the wall, reading the message aloud. “'My beloved Adell. I'm sorry. I will love you through eternity.'” It was signed,'Nate'. Natalie let the hot, cleansing tears fall unheeded. When she felt his hands on her shoulders, she leaned back with a shuddering sigh.

  "She named me after him, Elliot. My mother left a note telling Nelda my first name, but she didn't leave a last name. Nelda said she didn't want me having her name on account of how she took her life. That's when she started naming us after the presidents."

  "Hmm,” he murmured with interest. “So she named you after President Polk. I wonder how she knew? He was a brave man who didn't hesitate to voice his own opinions and stand up for what he believed, no matter who he angered.” He slowly turned her around in his arms and kissed her tears away. “Remind you of someone?” he asked with a soft chuckle, brushing his lips against hers.

  "I guess she did the best she knew how."

  He frowned. “I'm not convinced of that. Come on, let's go back to the ledge. You're cold."

  Natalie shivered, confirming his guess. It did seem to be colder in the smaller cave. She gave the remains of her father one last sad glance and followed him through the opening.

  When they reached the ledge, he pulled her onto his lap and began to rub her arms. She didn't give a thought to protesting, her mind returning to their predicament. Death was so final, and there were many things she had yet to experience.

  Such as making love with Elliot.

  Even before the thought slipped quietly into her mind, she began to heat up with a different kind of warmth. His slightly rough hands stroking her bare skin ... his breath warm and scented with sweet red wine as it drifted her over neck, and his incredibly strong thighs beneath her own all combined to awaken her senses, make her feel alive and aware.

  Need flooded her body and soul. Need for this man, for what he could make her feel and for what he could make her forget.

  With a gasp of longing, she turned in his arms.

  Their mouths met, clung, devoured, tasted and nibbled, growing more frenzied by the second. It was as if he shared her desperation, she thought. There wasn't any need to worry about tomorrow because tomorrow might not come.

  There was only now and she was here with Elliot.

  "Natalie?” he muttered against her mouth.

  "Yes.” She had known the meaning of his unspoken question. “Yes, Elliot. Make love to me fully. I don't want to die without sharing this with you.” And she meant it.

  "We're not going to die,” he argued, but began to work the buttons on her dress with feverish intensity, his breath quick and ragged. She continued to stroke her fingers through his hair and plant moist kisses on his neck, his ears, his jaw, his eyes. She wanted to touch every inch of him. When he pushed her dress from her shoulders, she arched into his hands, gasping as his rough fingers rasped across her nipples.

  His mouth soon followed, torturing her. She locked a scream in her throat and moaned instead. When he suddenly set her on her feet, her eyes flashed open in protest.

  "Let's get out of these clothes. I want to see all of you, Natalie. But first...” He yanked the pins from her hair and watched as the wild curls sprang free and tumbled about her shoulders. The soft candlelight caught just a hint of fire in her golden tresses. “So beautiful.” He speared his hands in her hair and slowly raked his fingers through.

  She thrilled to the sound of his husky, aching voice. He wanted her as she wanted him and there would be no stopping, no doubts, and no regrets. This was right. She belonged to him, and he belonged to her. She knew this as certainly as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow—even if it meant it would rise on their graves.

  Natalie wasn't sure how they managed to get undressed without parting lips, but within moments he broke away long enough to spread their clothes on the ledge in a make-shift blanket. He picked her up and gently laid her down, then stood back to look at her, his chest heaving with pent-up emotion.

  She boldly studied him in return. Finely muscled with dark blonde hair furring his chest and flat belly, he was a breathtaking sight. His skin seemed to glow a deep gold as if he'd spent time in the sun. Her gaze dropped for an electrifying instant on the evidence of his desire, then swiftly looked away.

  He chuckled, reaching out to cup her face with his hands. Desire and tenderness husked his voice. “Don't be afraid, Natalie. I won't hurt you."

  She forced herself to meet his gaze, her body trembling in anticipation despite the trickle of fear she felt. “I trust you,” she said simply. How could she not? She loved this magnificent man with all her heart.

  Too late, a sinister voice whispered.

  Despair tried to dig its ugly claws into her heart, but she growled it away. She wanted nothing to dim this joyous union. Since death was inevitable, it could wait.

  Her body seemed to leap of its own free will as Elliot stretched out beside her and took her into his arms again. His mouth crushed hers, demanded, sought, and received what he wanted. And while his mouth began their journey into love, his fingers continued it, sweeping across her belly and tangling in the silken curls between her legs. Skillfully and ever so gently, he parted her moist petals and stroked the very core of her desire.

  Natalie arched against him with a startled cry of pleasure, her hands clenching over his arms, then sweeping, seeking, touching. She gloried in the satin feel of his skin and the rough hair on his chest. Reveled in the rough bristles of his chin against her lips. When she brushed a curious hand against his thrusting manhood, she caught her breath. She held it as she hesitantly closed her fingers around him. The skin was smooth and velvety and oh-so-soft.

  Her lips parted in awe.

  He groaned and rose over her, his face suddenly taut, his eyes blazing in the glow of the candlelight. Lowering his head, he covered a straining peak with lips warm and exciting as he gently nudged her knees apart.

  She unfolded without hesitation or fear. If what was to come was anything like she'd felt thus far, then she was more than ready to participate.

  He sank slowly and carefully into her, capturing her whimper of pain with his mouth and soothing the hurt with a deep, satisfying kiss. When he fully possessed her, he held his trembling, eager body still, but she had passed the point of hesitation and surged against him.

  She demanded.

  He gave.

  Both savage and tender, he moved with her, clenching his teeth in an effort to hold on to his control. Each time she met his thrust with sweet abandon, he groaned and fought the release his body ached for. His lips roamed hers, then traveled along her arched throat to the madly beating pulse at her neck.

  That symbol, that one tiny proof of her pleasure pushed him over the edge. With a final groan, he sank his mouth onto hers and convulsed against her. She tumbled after him, clutching his hair and stifling a bewildered, joyful cry against his mouth.

  Tears trickled from her eyes and ran into her hair, but they were glad tears. Her breathing ragged, she framed his face with her hands and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you."

  He let out a shaky chu
ckle. “I'm not sure you should be thanking me. This ledge is solid rock—you're probably black and blue."

  She shook her head at his apologetic tone, her eyes luminous. “If I am, then it was worth every bruise.” He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck in silent appreciation. She took a quick, shallow breath, loving the feel of his weight on her.

  Loving him.

  "Elliot ... if we don't get out of here—"

  "We will. You've got to believe that. I'd like to try this again on a soft bed."

  Her heart hitched at his fierce look, so in contrast with his half-hearted attempt at humor. She wondered if he knew it. “There's a chance we won't, and it's time we faced it.” She murmured a protest as he rolled to the side, but changed it to a contented sigh when he gathered her against him.

  "I'm too heavy—I've already crushed you,” he explained, kissing the top of her head.

  "Was I complain—oh!” She tensed as the candle fizzled and fluttered out, plunging them into a darkness so black it felt thick. “Elliot?” She hated the wobbly, cowardly sound of her voice, but was helpless against the gripping fear that began to creep over her.

  "I'm here, darling.” His arms tightened in reassurance; his lips nuzzled her jaw. “Don't be afraid."

  She might have listened had she not heard the despair in his voice that he tried and failed to hide. With her heart tripping against her chest, she pressed against him and buried her face in his neck, holding on for dear life.

  They were going to die.

  * * * *

  Everyone gathered silently around Cole as he dropped to his knees and studied the tracks. Behind them, the sun sank perilously lower in the sky. They wouldn't be able to track them after dark and the urgency inside Jo grew stronger with the knowledge.

  Finally, Cole turned his head. His eyes narrowed. “Look's like they stopped here, then went that way."

  Jo followed his gaze, frowning at the pile of rocks at the base of the mountain. A tall pine flanked either side; the one on the left leaned drunkenly to one side. “They couldn't have, Cole. There ain't nothing but rocks and trees in that direction—and the mountain."

  "Could be a cave under those rocks,” Cole mused. “See that tree? Look's like something hit it and knocked it sideways. Maybe those rocks fell when the quake hit."

  "Dear God.” Jo took a step in the direction of the rocks. What Cole said made sense. “Dear God,” she breathed again. She ran to the base of the rocks and began screaming. “Natalie! Elliot! Can you hear me? It's Jo!"

  "We ain't sure there is a cave, bird brain. And if there is a cave behind that pile, then they'll be dead before we get them out."

  Jo whirled to face Brett, panic skittering just below the surface. It would do Natalie and Elliot no good if she became hysterical, she reasoned, fighting the urge to shake Brett's teeth loose. Instead, she reminded herself that Brett hated to be afraid and this was his way of hiding it. As she looked at his pale face, she realized that she was right; he was terrified. “We'll get them out, Brett. Even if we have to dig all night!"

  "We don't even know if—"

  "Be quiet.” Cole didn't have to raise his voice to get their attention; the urgency in his softly spoken words froze them in place. “Brett's right, Jo. If they're behind those rocks we need to start digging. We might not have much time. Brett, you go back to town and get help. Find Noah and tell him we'll need everyone that can come."

  Lori, who had been listening in round-eyed silence, began to cry. “Is Natty gonna die, Jo? Is she?"

  Jo sprinted to Lori and cuddled the frightened girl close. She swallowed a ball of tears and said in her firmest voice, “No, Lori. Natty and Mr. Montgomery ain't gonna die. We won't let them. Now, you sit over here so we can start getting those rocks out of the way."

  "No! I'm gonna help too.” Lori knuckled her eyes and pushed at Jo, her expression both fierce and frightened. “I can pick up the little rocks."

  Cole began lifting rocks and pitching them aside. He paused long enough to glance at the two girls. “She can help."

  Realizing they were wasting precious time arguing, Jo said, “Okay, but be careful. Some of those rocks might fall on us when we move the others.” She led Lori to the side of the pile and pointed. “You start there, and if you see any rocks moving, you jump out of the way. We ain't got time to be tendin’ you if you get hurt."

  Battling tears, Jo set her mouth in a determined line and went to work alongside Cole. Many of the rocks were too big for them to budge, but with any luck, help was on the way.

  She prayed they weren't too late.

  Raising her voice as loud as she could, Jo began to call out again. If they were alive, maybe they'd hear her.

  "Natty! Elliot! We're here! We found you!"

  * * * *

  Inside the cave, Elliot awoke to the faint sound of someone calling his name. Cold sweat beaded on his skin as he thought of the implications of that voice.

  Was this the end, then? he wondered, tightening his arms around Natalie, who dozed beside him. Alone with his thoughts, he let despair sweep over him. Just when he found the woman he could spend the rest of his life with, they would die. It hardly seemed fair—

  He tensed and lifted his head. There came that voice again, but this time he thought he recognized it.

  "Elliot! Natty! It's Jo!"

  Abruptly, he rose to a sitting position, bringing Natalie with him. He shook her gently. “Natalie—I think they've found us. I hear Jo.” When he was certain she was awake and steady, he let her go and scrambled in the pitch black for his trousers.

  "Hmm?” The sleepy sound of her voice suddenly sharpened with fear. “Elliot? Elliot!"

  He cursed and captured her flaying arms, pulling her close. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Here I am.” Holding one arm around her trembling shoulders, he continued his search. Finally, his fingers closed around the outline of the matches. He dug inside the pocket and drew them out. “I'm going to let you go for one second, sweetheart. Just long enough to light a match.” When she didn't protest, he slowly let her go and struck the match. She winced at the sudden burst of harsh light, but didn't close her eyes.

  "Get dressed quickly before the match is gone,” he urged.

  Natalie's gaze never wavered from the light as she gathered her clothes and began to slip them on. “Are you sure, Elliot? You really heard Jo? You didn't dream it?"

  "Damn!” He dropped the match and sucked the end of his scorched finger, then quickly pulled another match from the tin. He couldn't see her face, but he could feel her panic building. “I'm right here, and I'm lighting another match."

  "I know,” came her brave and unsteady whisper. “I'm not afraid."

  He found himself grinning at her bravado. Even while she trembled, she denied being afraid of the dark. His warrior woman, so brave and determined, so fearless in the face of death. A faint, thumping noise distracted him. He cocked his head and listened. They're digging us out, he realized with an inward shout of joy.

  They weren't going to die.

  He lit a match and found her shaking hand in the dark, closing her fingers around the base of the match. The meager light flickered wildly. “Hold this—I'll be back before it goes out. I promise."

  "Where are you going?"

  Over the yellow flame, he met her panicked gaze. Her eyes were large and luminous. Beautiful, he thought with a fresh ache of need. “To tell them we're here,” he managed around the thickness in his throat. “Don't move."

  "Don't you—don't you need a light?"

  He smiled at her envious tone. “I can manage. We've only got a few matches left."

  Relying on instinct, he made it to the entrance using the wall for his guide. He shouted at the top of his lungs until he heard an answering, indistinguishable shout that confirmed his success, then returned quickly to Natalie. When he drew close, he followed the small flame she held in her hand.

  Just as he reached her, she dropped the match with a soft cry of pain. Elliot reache
d out and brought her finger to his lips, soothing the hurt. He closed his eyes at the slightly salty taste of her skin, fighting a wave of desire. Just her taste ... her touch, and he was ready to love her again. His lips moved from her finger to her wrist, then along her arm until he felt her quick, uneven breath on his face. Beneath the old, musty smell of the cave, he could smell the fresh, flowery scent of her hair. He inhaled deeply and with great enjoyment.

  He was alive, and he was with Natalie.

  "Elliot?"

  This time, she was asking.

  He captured her lips, his passion exploding as if they had never made love. She responded with equal passion, her mouth soft and pliant, but greedy. With a deft twist, he pulled her up and turned with her in his arms as he sat on the ledge, pulling her between his hard, powerful thighs. With his hands circling her waist, he tightened his thighs against her hips to hold her there.

  "It'll take them a while to move that pile of rocks,” he whispered between breathless kisses. They had narrowly escaped death; surely they had earned the right to celebrate life?

  She melted against him willingly, breaking the kiss to lay her head against his chest. He felt her smile, and while his heart pounded fiercely she twirled lazy circles around his nipples with her finger, sending sharp daggers of desire into his groin. Would her touch always have this affect on him? he wondered in a daze.

  "You have something in mind to wile away the time?” she finally asked, tip-toeing those torturous fingers down his belly.

  He sucked in his breath, anticipating where those fingers would end. She was more woman than he could ever have hoped to find, sensuous, inventive, eager to learn and enjoy. He felt a moment's panic, wondering if he would ever be worthy of this beautiful, unselfish woman.

  In the next instant, she vanished his doubts as her soft, moist lips nuzzled him with such sweet hesitation and curiosity, he shuddered. When he felt the tip of her tongue flicking against the hardened peaks, he buried his fingers in the wild, sensuous tangle of her hair and brought her mouth back to his, growling, “I most certainly do."