by Dani Harper
Instead she nodded slowly. “I think I understand it, now that we’ve talked for a time. The music hurts something inside you when you hear it, doesn’t it?”
Only like his insides were being scooped out with a melon baller. “Yeah,” he managed. “I don’t understand why, but for now, it does.”
“Then, for now, I’ll practice somewhere else. I’ve found a lovely place out by the ridge, so I won’t mind playing out there a bit. And I can sing around the farm when you’re in the house.” Caris placed her finger on his chin. “For a while.”
He got her meaning, loud and clear. “Thanks. For understanding and for being patient while I try to work this out.”
Her finger slid around his jawline and upward, until her small palm was cool on his cheek. She delighted him by placing a tender, lingering kiss on his other cheek—and then apparently thought better of doing more. Liam could see that she was flustered again, and he found it completely endearing. That rosy blush bloomed along her throat once more, and he wondered just where it originated . . .
“I have work to do,” she said, pulling back.
As she wriggled to get off his lap, endearing was replaced by, well, something completely inarticulate. His lower brain must have sent out a message to keep her gorgeous butt exactly where it was, because instinct had Liam catching her around the waist before his upper brain even got the memo. There, yes, right there . . .
“Don’t go just yet—I think I need a little more TLC,” he murmured and cradled the back of her head in his hand.
“What’s that mean?” she asked. “It’s not about guts again, is it?”
“Not at all. TLC stands for ‘tender Liam care.’ I really think a little more kissing could do me a whole lot of good.”
“You think so, do you?” She didn’t sound convinced, but she was smiling as he brought her face close to his. That pretty mouth was made to be kissed, he decided, but he wanted to take his time—like saving dessert for last. Meanwhile, it was oh so pleasant to brush his lips lightly along her hairline, where that intriguing crown of dark braids made her look like a sexy Princess Leia on Endor. He lightly nibbled at the tops of her ears and noted that they were hot—and an answering heat echoed deep within him. Liam nuzzled into the ear closest to him until a shiver rippled through her and her heart beat loudly enough that he could feel it in his own chest.
His hands wanted nothing more than to explore every tantalizing inch of her. Instead, he restricted them to slowly kneading the fine, smooth arc of her back from neck to tailbone—and no further. His body wanted everything right now, of course, but this time, this one time, Liam wanted something else, something slow and intimate, something less that was so much more. Instinct told him that Caris Dillwyn was a woman to be savored. And savor her he would . . .
He teased at the corners of her lips with his tongue, but moved on. Kissed the end of her nose and made her laugh. The pleasing contours of her face were mapped and committed to memory with only his mouth. Finally, he sensed the flutter of her eyelids beneath his lips. It evoked an image of her small figure quivering like a bird’s wings beneath him as he pleasured her . . . and as he claimed her.
It nearly undid him then and there.
It was definitely go forward or fall back time, and Liam would cut his own throat rather than spoil this moment by taking things too far, too fast. But there would be a time, and damn soon, he promised himself as he fought to calm the powerful craving that raged within. His cock was straining beneath his jeans, and with their bodies molded together as they were, he knew she could feel it pressing against her, seeking her. Down, boy. He needed to get out of this face-to-face position, and fast.
Regrettably, enjoying Caris’s soft, full lips would have to wait for another time. This is what you get for not having dessert first, he chided himself. To her, he said, “I think we might want to take a break now.” And he kissed her forehead with all the tenderness he could muster.
“Right. Of course,” she said, and her voice was as unsteady as if she’d had too much to drink. Before she could make a move to leave, Liam placed his hands firmly on her waist and lifted her clear of his lap. It was pure self-defense—one more wriggle of that gorgeous butt and he was going to embarrass himself. He was already sweating, and he could swear the air had turned to syrup as he tried to drag it into his lungs.
Once her feet were back on the porch, Caris barely took a moment to compose herself. She said something that sounded like “good-bye” and was set to take off, until he seized her hand in his. Whether he was trying to steady her or just couldn’t bear to let her go, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. Worse, he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. He settled for planting a soft, lingering kiss on her palm and releasing her with as much of a smile as his bruised head would allow.
She smiled back, a little shyly he thought, then hurried off toward the barn. That’s when what she’d said about no boyfriends in her life struck him like a lightning bolt. You frickin’ idiot, she hasn’t been with anybody before.
Liam waited until Caris was out of sight before he got up and shuffled into the house to stretch out on the couch. He couldn’t help but moan a little as his body sank gratefully into the cushions. How could he be so damned tired already? He hadn’t done much of anything with Caris, except get extremely aroused. Apparently that was enough to wear him out—but it had been worth it. I guess I’ll just be glad this stupid concussion didn’t interrupt anything.
His concussion was likely to get aggravated all to hell, however, just by trying to sort out all the thoughts that were presently trampling like wild elephants through his head. The discovery that Caris had no sexual experience meant that he needed to be damned careful. It was more than just taking it slow and easy—he needed to take his cues from her, and let her tell him what she was and wasn’t ready for. Great, like reading cues is a real talent of mine. Not!
However, Uncle Conall had once said, “There’s nothing you can’t figure out together if you give it enough time.” His uncle had actually been talking about disagreements, not sex—but it seemed to Liam that the advice applied. Since he’d already made up his mind that Caris Dillwyn was a woman to be savored, then surely she was a woman worth waiting for, too. Somehow it would work out. It has to . . .
What was giving him even more of a headache was the discovery that she was a fiddler like himself! So much for his theories on his weird dreams. All his rational and reasonable explanations had been completely blown out of the water. Liam had always been respectful of Aunt Ruby’s interest in psychic matters, but privately, he’d taken it with a very big grain of salt. I’m going to have to apologize to my aunt, big time. He could no longer deny what his dreams had revealed to him. Somehow, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, he’d been given knowledge in advance about Caris’s incredible music. And just in case he needed any further verification, his gut concurred.
He stilled suddenly. There had been two parts to the dream. If one was true, then the other must also be true. Something dark and dangerous was coming—and it was coming for her.
Liam shook his head, not with denial but with determination. “No,” he said aloud, and his resolve tempered into steel. No matter what happened, he would damn well stand between Caris Dillwyn and whatever the hell was trying to threaten her.
If only he knew what it was.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a satisfying rhythm of work. There was no lack of things needing to be done before the milking, and gradually Caris found herself singing over every task big and small. After all those years of being a voiceless grim, she finally had both a reason and the ability to express the music that lived within her. When she came to the end of a song, she laughed with sheer delight and started another. The work became a joy. It was a joy, too, to know that when the work was done, the exquisite fiddle would be waiting for her.
It was exhilarating to be so free, much li
ke being a small child again—before her da’s lectures and the preacher’s sermons tried to repress and contain what was second nature to her. She remembered the silly little songs she’d made up as she played with her doll. When she was big enough to have chores, she sang over them as well. Caris recalled how she’d chanted to the oxen when they plowed, crooned to the chickens to call them to feed, sang to the sheep as she and the dogs took them up to the higher pastures.
Entering the barn, she greeted the goats with a nonsensical rhyme. Looking over their heads to the back of the building, Caris expected to see Chevy watching her too—but no vividly spotted head or broad speckled back was visible. Quickly, she pushed past the goats and ran to the makeshift enclosure. The mare was down.
“On the weekend, Jay and I will come back with Rhys and some of our friends and see if we can finish cleaning things up around here,” Morgan was saying, as she helped Liam slowly down the steps to where his ATV was waiting. It was a fairly new side-by-side quad with a small cargo box, and it had been a welcome sight on several levels. The handy little vehicle had been buried in the machine shop wreckage the last he’d known, and he’d assumed it was a goner. Steadying himself with the overhead bar, he settled into the passenger seat (and hoped he didn’t look too pathetically grateful to be sitting down). His stomach lurched only once, then the nausea subsided as if it had never been. The dizziness? That seemed to come and go more or less continuously.
As the quad moved forward—and thankfully, Morgan had a light touch on the gas—Liam was surprised at the progress all around him. Somebody’s been awfully damn busy. His battered skull protested as his head kept swiveling—but he’d already learned it was better to turn his whole head rather than move his eyes.
A broad driving path had been cleared through the debris. There’d be no more picking his way through an obstacle course to get from the house to the barn. There were still a lot of fallen branches littering the rest of the yard, but an assortment of fallen trees and large limbs had already been piled at the head of the driveway, and topping the heap was the chestnut tree that had pierced the living room wall. I’m going to have a lot of frickin’ firewood this winter.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how the hell did you get all the windows fixed before I got home?” Liam had witnessed the flawless glass on the first floor but had yet to tackle going upstairs. From the outside, it was now apparent that the panes on the second floor were perfect as well. “And it isn’t just clean inside, it’s immaculate. Aunt Ruby would totally faint. I can’t believe you got a company to come out here that fast.”
Morgan chuckled. “Let’s just say that I have connections, and leave it at that.” Steering the quad toward the farmyard, she parked by the corral, where the yearling goats were pulling alfalfa from their feeder with adept lips. She pointed out the injuries that had been treated, and Liam felt relieved. He didn’t like to think of his animals suffering, and it was pure luck that nothing seemed to be too serious. At the milk house, the generator was still running nicely—no small feat considering its many idiosyncrasies. As a result, all the milk from the previous night and the morning had already gone through the pasteurizer.
“When’s the cheese company coming?” he asked.
Morgan laughed. “Been and gone already. You slept through it, bud.”
Jay hitched a ride on the back of the quad as they headed for the paddock. Morgan pulled in close to the fence so Liam could rub Dodge’s questing nose without having to get out of the vehicle. The Appaloosa nickered low, glad to see him too—and blew grassy slime all over the front of his borrowed purple shirt. “Nice one, dude,” chuckled Liam. “I think you improved it.” Maybe he could consign it to the rag bucket in the machine shop without too much guilt.
“Dodge is a great cow horse,” said Jay. “Zeroed in on the cattle right away and knew just what to do to get them together and moving toward home. Although after a night like that, I don’t think they needed much persuasion. I’m sorry to tell you that I counted six dead by lightning strike a couple miles south of the ridge. The good news is that the rest are fine: no injuries at all that I can find. I put them in the small pasture on the other side of the creek. The fences are still solid there, there’s a fair amount of decent grass, and they have access to water.”
“I can’t thank you enough for finding them and bringing them back. I’m damn lucky to have any livestock left after that storm.” Dodge abruptly angled his big head under Liam’s hand, nearly shoving him into Morgan. “Hey, go easy on me, will you?” The horse had a huge fondness for having his closed eyes rubbed just so—and as Liam delivered what the big spotted goof was asking for, he realized something was wrong.
“I thought you said Chevy came home. Why isn’t she here with Dodge?”
“She’s in the barn with the milk goats,” said Morgan. “Caris is with her.”
“Chevy’s all right, isn’t she? She didn’t lose her foal?”
“She’s just fine. Come see for yourself.”
Liam stood in the small side door of the barn and waited for his eyes to adjust. It didn’t take long—with the roof missing, there was a hell of a big skylight overhead. The late afternoon sun was waning, and there was a soft yellow glow to everything in the barn. The Saanen and LaMancha does seemed calm and content. Some sported blue spots from antiseptic spray, a few had vibrant-colored elastic bandaging on their legs, but otherwise, the herd looked good. Beyond them, he caught sight of a familiar speckled hide in the back section of the barn where he usually kept the yearlings at night. He was out of the quad and heading for the mare, heedless of any need to take it easy, not even noticing Morgan and Jay rush to flank him.
Halfway there, he stopped. Time stopped. There was Caris, kneeling in the straw at Chevy’s feet, supporting a tiny foal and encouraging it to stand on gangly legs and drink from its mother. A second tiny foal lay sprawled beside her, taking in its brand new world with big curious eyes. The golden light lent something reverential, almost otherworldly to the scene, gilding it like a Renaissance painting. The big mare’s coat might have been speckled with glittering coins. Caris’s upturned face glowed, and rich amber highlights shimmered in her dark hair. Even the simple straw might have been spun from purest gold, as dust motes glinted diamondlike in the air over all.
Caris turned to see him and laughed in delight, shattering the spell into a million shining pieces, but not before he was utterly, completely dazzled by her. He’d thought he had feelings for her already, but he could actually feel his heart take a long, slow, glorious tumble . . .
“Look, Liam! Your good mare has given you a fine gift.”
He nodded dumbly, and half sat, half collapsed on a hay bale. The sun slid just a fraction of an inch lower and the light in the barn lost its golden tones. The feeling within Liam lingered, however. It was part of him now. She was part of him now, whether Caris knew it or not.
“Chevy’s given you two gifts,” added Morgan. “We had no idea she was carrying twins.”
“Wait a minute, that’s pretty rare for a horse, isn’t it?” Liam managed. As his brain finally kicked in, he already knew the answer. It was not only rare; it was dangerous. Horses weren’t really designed to carry more than one foal.
“Live twins only happen once in about ten thousand pregnancies,” affirmed Jay. “I’ve never even seen any, never mind delivered them.”
“Now you know why we’re still here,” said Morgan. “We noticed that Chevy was acting strange early this morning. Her water broke about midafternoon, and we had a healthy foal shortly afterward. He’s got contracted tendons, which is why Caris is helping him stand, but it’s a pretty minor case: he should recover on his own pretty quickly. But he was awfully small, and that made me suspicious. Sure enough, along came a second foal.”
They don’t even look real, he thought. More like toys. “I’ve gotta see them.” Gripping the wooden boards of the barn partition,
Liam made his way slowly over to Caris’s side and sank into the thick straw. Chevy swung her head around to greet him, nosing his shoulder gently and blowing in his face—and thankfully, unlike Dodge, it was just air. He caught at her bridle to support himself as he scratched under her jaw in her favorite spot. “Good job, girl,” he said soothingly. “Those are real nice babies you have there.” Inside, however, his heart wrenched as he wondered whether they’d make it. They’re so damn little . . .
“How much do they weigh?” he asked. As if in answer, the foal that had been nursing staggered over to Liam, where it collapsed in a flurry of long legs onto his lap. It was like having a sack of grain fall onto his legs, but fortunately his head wasn’t involved and didn’t complain overmuch at the jolt. He was even more thankful that the creature hadn’t landed on his crotch.
“Isn’t he a handsome fellow?” asked Caris. “Here, feel his coat!” She seized Liam’s hand and drew it over the foal’s fuzzy pelt. He didn’t know which felt better, her touch or the soft baby fur. He grinned at Caris (whether his bruised head liked it or not), and they leaned in toward each other as he stroked the little creature.
“We figure the twins are about a week or so early, so they’re a lot smaller than average,” said Morgan, kneeling beside him and checking over the gangly creature in his lap. “I’m guessing this little guy’s weight is maybe fifty or sixty pounds. The girl is smaller—forty pounds, tops. But she’s got plenty of zip. She was up on her feet long before her brother, and he was born first. No obvious defects, nothing wrong with her tendons, and she doesn’t seem to need any help to nurse.”
Morgan looked at Liam squarely. “I think they have a chance, but you’ll have to watch them like a hawk for the next two or three weeks. Dammit, I hate saying it, but you have to understand that the survival rate for twins is pretty low for horses, even if they make it through the birth, even if they look just fine. You have to be prepared for that possibility.”
