Virgin without a Memory

by Vickie Taylor

  She tugged on his hand. “Why don’t we go up to the house.”

  “What are these?” He pointed at several dark areas in the light rocks of the unfinished background.

  “I’m not sure. I just painted it like I remembered it.” Her heart bucked. She remembered why she’d brought him here—to look for clues in the pictures. “Do you think it means something?”

  “I don’t know, they just look out of place.”

  She stared at the spots, trying to recall exactly what she had seen, but she couldn’t. She just hadn’t paid that much attention to the background. In this picture, at least.

  “I’ve done lots of paintings of the mountain,” she told him. “They’re all here. If whatever was up there has been there long, I’ve painted it.”

  They dressed quickly and then scrutinized every painting, but without success. On several she’d colored dark areas in the rock formations, but none in enough detail to give them an idea what they were looking at.

  “We have to go back up there,” she said.

  His head jerked toward her where she leaned the last painting against the wall. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

  “This is the best lead we’ve had.”

  “You don’t know who or what we’d be walking into. Besides, it might be nothing.”

  “Or it might be the answer we’ve been looking for.”

  His eyes simmered like pools of hot, black tar. “I am not taking you back up there.”

  “I haven’t asked you to take me anywhere!”

  At least he had the good grace to flinch. “I know. I know. You can get anywhere you want to go all by yourself.”

  “You’re darn right I—”

  He pulled her against him before she finished the thought. One hand cradled her head to his chest while the other spun magic circles on her hip. When his teeth nipped and then suckled that point where her pulse beat close to the surface of her neck, all hope of thinking clearly about her answer evaporated like morning dew.

  “Mmm.” She arched her neck to give him better access, gradually relaxing. “You don’t fight fair, Randall.”

  He chuckled, and she felt the vibration in every cell. “We’ll think about it tomorrow, okay?” The mellow tones were warm, rich and seductive.

  She burrowed closer to him. She really didn’t want to argue. “Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.”

  “Weren’t we going to the house? I’ll bet there’s a nice, big shower in that upstairs bathroom.”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Randall?”

  “I’m telling you I want you to wash my back.”

  “Me wash your back?”

  “Hmm.” He nipped at her collarbone. “Think warm water.” Sipped at her earlobe. “Soap.” Drank from her lips. “Naked bodies.”

  Mariah shivered, but not from the cold.

  Leaving his clothes scattered on the bathroom floor, Eric adjusted the water temperature in Mariah’s shower. He’d promised to have it just right by the time she finished checking on Molly and the colt and joined him in the house.

  He’d nearly blown it big-time in the garden shed. If he hadn’t backed off, she probably would have saddled a horse and ridden to Fannin’s Run tonight, just to prove she could. Damn but she had a fierce independent streak. So he’d changed his strategy. A long, lascivious night in bed with him would keep her mind off the mountain. At least he hoped it would.

  The pulsing spray of the shower pounded the kinks out of his neck while he waited. A minute passed. Then two.

  What was taking so long? She’d promised just a quick look at the horses.

  His scalp tingled, a subconscious warning he’d learned long ago not to ignore. What had he been thinking, letting her out of his sight with everything going on around here?

  Twisting off the water, he stepped out of the stall and listened. His heart seized like an engine that had run out of oil at the sound that met his ears: motorcycles.

  Grabbing a towel, he threw it around his waist as he pounded down the stairs. He yanked open the front door in time to feel something large and solid whiz by his head. The missile crashed against the house, and shattered glass, as well as something cold and wet, peppered Eric’s side.

  A man in black coveralls and a mask circled his motorcycle for another pass. Eric closed the door in front of him just in time to block another projectile. Cursing, he clutched the towel and spun toward the back of the house.

  Mariah. He had to get to Mariah.

  The back door flew open even as he reached for the knob. Manah leaped through and nearly knocked him down before she could get herself stopped. His arms automatically encircled her, steadied them both. For a moment they clung to each other, no longer caring about the maniacs out front.

  “I’m okay,” she assured him. “I heard them coming and circled around the back.”

  She pushed back so she could see him and gasped. “Oh, my God, are you all right? What did they do to you?”

  Confused, Eric looked down and saw for the first time the red blotches on his arm and on the towel, which was now slipping from his waist. He snatched the towel back up.

  “I’m fine. It’s paint. They’re throwing bottles of red paint at the front of the house.”

  Out front, the whine of motorcycle engines receded into the night. Eric led Mariah to the door and opened it cautiously.

  “Oh, what a mess,” Mariah groaned, pushing past him onto the porch. She swiped at a fat, red drip and rubbed her thumb over the stain on her fingertips.

  Eric bent over and picked up a plastic bag with a rock and a piece of paper inside. His heart banged against his chest wall as he pulled the paper out. What now?

  Last warning—bury the dead!

  Bury the dead. If those thugs hurt Mariah, he’d bury them.

  “When Gigi leaves,” Eric told her the next evening in that commandant voice he’d been using all day, “you go with her. I don’t want you here by yourself while I’m gone.”

  He walked into the tack room and picked up a saddle.

  Mariah followed him, flipping on the overhead lights as she went. The sun had nearly quit on another day—one of the most frustrating days in Mariah’s life. After endless hours of arguments that morning, Mariah had sat by patiently while he called Gigi and asked her to come over that afternoon. She’d watched quietly while he cooked them all supper and explained everything that had been going on, telling her best friend that he didn’t want her involved unless she knew exactly what she was getting into. Mariah hadn’t said a word while he asked Gigi to take her home with her that night while he rode up the mountain.

  She’d about used up all her patience with him. Just because he’d made love to her didn’t mean he could ride roughshod all over her. She opened her mouth to rebut, but he cut her off before she got a word out.

  “I mean it, Mariah. Either you agree to go with Gigi or I will haul you bodily all the way to St. George and hire someone to make sure you stay there.”

  “Don’t threaten me.”

  The muscle at the back of his jaw popped and she thought he might be biting his tongue. When he spoke, his words were softer than his expression. “I’m not threatening you. I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe so I can do what I have to do.”

  He set the saddle down and picked up a halter and lead rope. “Now, are you going to help me get a horse ready, or do I have to ride bareback?”

  Grudgingly she swiped the halter out of his hands, walked outside and brought back a dark bay gelding.

  Eric raised his eyes. “Not Honey Bear?”

  “No. In this moonlight, Honey’s light color will stick out like neon. If you don’t want them to see you, you need a darker horse. This is Max. He’s a little younger and a lot quicker, so be careful.”

  He smiled and lifted the saddle onto Max as soon as she’d brushed off the horse’s back. She quickly adjusted the girth and breast collar to fit and then slid a bit into the gelding’s mouth and pulled the bridle over his ea
rs.

  Ready, she handed Eric the reins. He wore a black T-shirt like the one he’d been wearing when she first met him, his black jeans and leather jacket. In the darkness outside, he’d be nearly invisible.

  “For such a practical guy,” she said, stuffing his saddlebags with water bottles and tying a couple of blankets behind the saddle, “this is a really dumb idea.”

  “It’ll work. I’ll ride up there in the dark so no one will see me coming, hole up a couple of hours and then check out those rock formations at first light. No one will be expecting trouble at that hour, even if they are around.”

  He led Max out into the moonlight and hopped up into the saddle like he’d been doing it all his life. At least his ribs didn’t seem to bother him any longer.

  Gigi stood on the porch, her arms folded over her chest, watching silently. As Eric turned to head off, Mariah grabbed a handful of jeans at his knee.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, cowboy?”

  Wearing the first smile she’d seen on him in a while, he leaned over, tilted her chin up with his hand and kissed her, deep and long and hard. When he let her go, she pulled in a load of much-needed air and then smiled back at him.

  “That was nice,” she said, pulling the pistol from the back of her jeans. “But I was referring to this.”

  His smile broke into a laugh.

  Gigi strolled down the drive as Max and Eric disappeared up the wooded trail. “You’re not really going to let him go, are you?”

  Mariah flashed a devilish grin at her friend. “Would you, if he were your man?”

  She wished she hadn’t given Eric such a big head start. She’d assumed she’d have no trouble finding him. After all, she’d grown up on this mountain. He was the stranger here. But an hour into the ride, when her skin crawled at the growl of a mountain lion in the rocks and her heart jumped under the glow of a pair of nocturnal eyes staring down at her from a tree limb, her confidence dwindled.

  What if he’d taken a different trail? What if he was lost up here? They could both ride in endless circles and never cross each other’s path. Only the thought that Eric was in danger kept her moving forward. He was risking his life for her. Because she’d told him she needed him. She should have known that a man like him would take that as the Eleventh Commandment. Thou shalt protect Mariah.

  The call of a night bird made her jump in the saddle. Her mare, Penny, pranced, picking up on Mariah’s nervousness She patted the mare’s neck.

  “Easy, girl. One of us needs to stay calm, here.”

  Intent on every night sound, aware of every flicker of movement around her, she rode along the rocks to the shelter where they’d waited out the storm. About fifty yards away, she dismounted and tied her horse in the woods. She saw no sign of Eric’s horse.

  Stepping lightly, she crept along the lower line of boulders. It should be right here, somewhere. Everything looked different in the dark. Bigger. More dangerous.

  A pebble skittered under her boot and she stopped, holding her breath. When nothing more happened, she took another cautious step...and was lassoed from behind by a muscular forearm. Before she could scream a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “It’s all right,” Eric hissed. “It’s me.”

  He turned her around so that she could see. If she could have moved, she might have punched him for scaring her like that But none of her body parts seemed to be functioning at the moment. Except her heart, which was beating triple time and showing no signs of slowing.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  Finally her tongue came unglued from the roof of her mouth. “Looking for you,” she said.

  “Shh. Keep your voice down.” Swearing an oath under his breath, he pulled her under the flap of a blanket hung from the rocks. She’d nearly walked right by his little hideaway without seeing it. The blanket doorway cut out even the moonlight when it fell closed behind her. All she could see of Eric was his outline, but she felt his presence just the same.

  “I told you to stay with Gigi.”

  “And I told you that riding up here alone was a dumb idea.”

  “You can’t be up here. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s safer now for me to stay than to risk riding down again.” She felt pretty pleased with herself at that reasoning.

  He made some rustling noises, but she couldn’t see what he was doing. Then she blinked, unprepared for the sudden light as Eric struck a match and held it to the wick of a candle. She recognized that candle. It was from her dining room table.

  Light and shadow flickered across his face, deepening his scowl. She smiled up at him tentatively. “So are you glad to see me or what?”

  He groaned and pulled her against him. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

  The butt of the pistol he still held in his hand dug into her shoulder blade as he ground her against him. The stubble on his jaw rasped in her hair. She delighted in the feel of him hardening along her thigh.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered gruffly.

  She peered around his shoulder at the blanket spread on the ground. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “You took a hell of a risk, following me up here.”

  “Sometimes you have to take a few risks to get what you want in life.”

  “Is this what you want in life? Me?”

  “Maybe.” Until recently she’d never considered having a life like other women, with a home, a husband, a family. She still didn’t fully believe she could. But she could have the few precious hours before sunrise, if he would let her. “But you’re talking about the future. Right now I just want to get through this night.”

  She pulled the hem of his T-shirt out of his jeans and slid her hands underneath. A deep rumble rolling up from his chest, he gently lowered her to the blanket and covered her body with his. Splinters of need burrowed under her skin and wriggled through her veins. He knelt over her, liberating her from her shirt and bra, then paid homage to one breast and then the other with hand and mouth.

  Mariah moaned, writhing beneath him, and Eric muffled the sound with a kiss.

  “Shh. Quiet, remember?”

  The candlelit glow of her naked skin aroused him to an almost painful pitch. If Mariah wanted this night, then he’d give it to her. He’d drop to his knees in thanksgiving. Forget consequences, and responsibility. He still couldn’t give her a future, not with him in it, but he could give her one hell of a right-now.

  Her small, calloused fingers raked his back, drawing him down, and he went willingly. The earthy aromas of dirt and wool and sex made him feel primitive. Elemental. He followed those feelings, letting them carry him to heights he’d never experienced before, lifting her along with him.

  He helped her out of her jeans and shucked his alongside. When he came back to her, he lowered himself, gently testing her reaction. Finding no trace of fear, he crushed himself down on her. Her breasts flattened against his chest. Her heart pounded against his. Her legs separated and her body cradled him in its nest.

  The sweet trust on her face made him ache. The fiery desire in her eyes made him burn. He wanted her with a force he’d never felt, never known existed. Like a comet on a collision course with Earth. Unstoppable. Uncontrollable. Devastating.

  He leaned over, blew out the candle and then took her blindly, pumping his life into her and taking hers in return. He forgot to be gentle, but she didn’t seem to mind. She matched him stroke for stroke, holding him closer, pulling him deeper, as if her love had no boundaries.

  And when her back arched and went rigid in his arms and her body clenched his, draining him, a billion stars exploded in his mind.

  Life on Earth would never be the same.

  When the blinding light in his head had faded back into the darkness of the cave, she curled up next to him, her hand fluffing the hair on his chest. “All these years, I never imagined... I thought the first time was a fluke. But twice... Is that what it’s supposed to be like, Er
ic? All the time?”

  “No.” He stilled her hand with his. “It’s not supposed to be like that. Not ever.”

  He held her a long time, listening to the night sounds of the mountain. And knowing when they ended, so would his time with Mariah. In the morning she was going back to the ranch, if he had to carry her there over his shoulder. Then once he’d exposed the secrets this mountain protected, he’d be going back to his life. Not that it would feel much like living, without Mariah.

  “Eric, wake up!” She shook his shoulder again, not daring to raise her voice louder. Instantly his eyes popped open. “I heard something Outside.”

  He sat up, listening as he straightened his shirt. With only one blanket to share, not counting the one hanging as their “door,” they hadn’t rested long after they’d made love before the chill woke them both. They’d slept the last hours before dawn in their clothes for warmth. And so they’d be ready to move if they got into trouble.

  Something rustled beyond the mouth of the cave, a sound like limbs brushing together, then a few pebbles skittered down the slope.

  Eric reached for the gun.

  “Wait!” She pulled him back as he crawled toward the door. “You can’t go out there.”

  He held his index finger to his lips and peeled back the edge of the blanket. The sky outside was black. The moon had set and the sun hadn’t yet risen, though a gray glow to the east announced to the world that dawn wasn’t far off.

  Eric’s head swiveled from left to right and then he crept out of the cave. Mariah followed, her fingers fisted in the back of his shirt. They tiptoed over the rocks in their stocking feet, both careful to move without sound.

  To their left, a larger rock shifted. They both started, but when no monster, human or otherwise, appeared, they moved on. The bushes ahead shook. Less jumpy, Eric and Mariah followed the movement. The sound of trickling water and more rustling in the bushes led them forward. Some fifty yards down the slope, they crouched behind a rock and waited.