Larger Than Life

by Kay Hooper

  And he was close enough to hear as well as see.

  “I had no choice,” Matt Preston said, his face oddly set.

  “You had no right!” Saber responded in a low, angry voice.

  “Didn’t I?”

  Preston’s next words were too low for Travis to catch, and Saber’s voice had fallen to a furious whisper. It was a quick, harsh exchange, ending when Preston’s face seemed to quiver as if from a blow and Saber reached out to touch his arm.

  Travis was vaguely aware of his hands curling into fists. For long moments he heard no more than the murmur of their voices, calmer now. Then Preston bent to kiss her lightly. “Thank you, honey.”

  “Good night, Matt.”

  Saber stood and watched as he made his way along one of the many paths leading to the main house. When he was lost from sight, she turned and went into the cottage, closing the door behind her.

  Travis stood where he was for endless minutes, staring at the golden light spilling from the cottage. The conversation he’d seen and heard filled his mind with ghostly echoes; his instincts told him he’d know what it all meant if he could only think. There was something just beyond his grasp, some scrap of knowledge he held without realizing.

  But he couldn’t think; he could only feel. His love for Saber was like the wildness in her silvery eyes—caged by caution and patience. But in that moment what was caged became stronger than the bars and burst free with an abrupt, savage need.

  Primitive instinct drove him to fight for what he wanted, to reach out and grasp what he needed with all the strength he could command. Caveman and lover fought wildly as he strode toward the cottage.

  And it was a toss-up as to which won.

  Saber jumped in surprise when the cottage door slammed violently, turning from the radio she’d just switched on to stare toward the sound. Travis stood in the shadows by the door, and she felt weak with relief.

  “Lord, you scared me half to death,” she said.

  He was silent, motionless; she couldn’t make out his expression.

  “Travis?” She thought she knew what was wrong. “I’m sorry for disappearing all day.” She was still torn between excitement and alarm after realizing sometime during the day that she was head over heels in love with him. Would he walk away from her when he learned the truth? And could she blame him if he did? “Cory said you’d been looking for me.”

  “Yes, I have.” His voice was calm, conversational.

  Relief flooded her a second time. Surely he couldn’t be angry? Not when he sounded so calm. “I am sorry, but I warned you about that habit of mine. Was there … was there anything special you wanted me for?”

  “Yes, there was something special.” He came forward slowly into the light.

  Saber felt the breath catch in her throat. His green eyes were blazing with a light she’d never seen before, hot and shimmering. His lean, handsome face was rigid, almost masklike, and he was moving with the restrained steadiness of leashed emotion.

  “Travis?”

  “I’ve been very patient,” he said evenly, still coming toward her with that careful control.

  Saber swallowed hard, fighting an urge to back away. “Travis, what’s wrong with you?”

  “You agree I’ve been patient?” he said in the tone of a man who means to be understood clearly.

  “Yes—yes, of course you have.”

  He nodded in a measured way. “There are limits to patience, Saber.”

  Saber felt hypnotized, her eyes fixed on him as he came nearer. Nearer. By the time he stood before her, she was finding it difficult to breathe and couldn’t tear her gaze from the shimmering intensity of those green eyes. “Travis?” she whispered, realizing belatedly that his quiet patience had been deceptive, to say the least.

  This was no civilized man, loving in his words and tender in his actions; this was a man with pagan drums beating in his breast, driven by an overwhelming need.

  Travis reached out abruptly and hauled her into his arms. “I love you!” he said fiercely, and covered her lips with his.

  Like a match set to dry kindling, Saber instantly took fire. There was no slow building of passion, no gradual awareness of desire. She had no time, no opportunity to control the surging release of shatteringly powerful emotions; something broke with a shudder that rocked her entire body and sent her mind reeling helplessly.

  The elemental wildness rose up in triumph to meet his equally savage need, fire meeting fire in a crucible’s white-hot fury. If she’d been granted a single instant’s realization, Saber would have dragged that wild part of her back into hiding: it was meant to be flung only into battling for survival—or into an audience of thousands where it would not overpower. But Travis gave her no time to hesitate, no chance to doubt.

  She was lifted into his hard arms, carried to a bed lit by the faint gleam of the living room lamps. Only dimly aware of being set once more on her feet, she felt his hands coping feverishly with the buttons of her blouse. Her own fingers sought him blindly, parting buttons to find the hard-muscled chest beneath, the texture of curling hair a sensation she craved. She kicked sandals aside, lowered her arms briefly to permit the passing of her blouse and lace bra, both of which were ruined in his fevered haste.

  His own shirt fell to the floor and shoes went spinning into a corner unheeded. Burning lips trailed hungry kisses down her throat, and his hands lifted to surround the aching weight of her breasts.

  Saber moaned low in her throat, holding his dark head with both her hands as she felt the sudden pull of his mouth, the rough brush of his tongue swirling erotically. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair as his hands spanned her waist, his mouth moved lower. Her jeans were unfastened and slid down over her hips and legs until she could automatically step out of them; silken panties followed.

  As he straightened, her hands moved downward over powerful shoulders, over the muscled chest that was rising and falling rapidly; she felt his flat stomach tauten at her touch, felt his breath catch as she found the fastening of his jeans.

  Green eyes flashing with emerald fire, he stared down at her, saw her as she’d never been seen before. His hands tangled in her long hair and his mouth found hers again.

  Blindly, she pushed the jeans down over his narrow hips. She felt him kick the last of his clothing aside, heard the sound he made as he lifted her and lay her on the bed in a single motion. Then he was beside her, his hands caressing with unsteady need, his mouth hot and demanding.

  Saber couldn’t breathe and didn’t care. She ached; her whole body throbbed with needing him. Hunger sent her hands exploring, all her senses vibrantly alive to the feeling of his body beneath her touch. The painful need of her own body intensified, became a tortured ache, a punishing demand.

  She heard a voice that was vulnerable in its yearning, wild in its hunger, and only dimly recognized it as her own. She didn’t know what she asked, but he answered. His body moved over hers, taut with savage desire, feverish with the towering flame they had set alight.

  Her body instinctively fit itself to cradle his, and when he moved suddenly she cried out, taking as fiercely as she gave. She held him with every part of herself, her grace and strength meeting his in an explosion that rocked them both. They rose together, higher and higher, tension building, splintering, dissolving in a firestorm of sheer boundless pleasure. …

  For a long time there was only the sound of harsh breathing and pounding hearts, only a trembling aftermath too precious to disturb. They clung to each other, silent and awed.

  Finally, Travis turned her chin up with a gentle hand and gazed into smoky gray eyes now oddly shy. “Dear God, I love you,” he said, his voice low and husky.

  “I love you, too,” she replied.

  He caught his breath, released it in a ragged sigh. “You’re … sure? I don’t think I could stand it if you weren’t sure.”

  Saber traced the line of his jaw with a single unsteady finger. “I’m very sure.” She smiled slowl
y. “I was sure even before your patience ran out.”

  “I won’t apologize for that,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her. “For the first time, you didn’t hide anything from me. Lord, Saber, I’ve never felt anything like that in my life. And when I realized … you never had, either … I couldn’t believe it.”

  Her mouth twisted in a wry little smile, but the silvery eyes were alight with laughter. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re so beautiful. Have all the men you’ve known been blind and stupid?” He thought fleetingly of Preston but dismissed the thought; the very fact that no other man had known her explosive passion told him that Preston was not a rival in that way.

  “All the men I’ve known …” Saber gave an odd laugh. “It never mattered before, Travis. This time it mattered.”

  “Because you love me?”

  “Because I love you.”

  EIGHT

  “IT TOOK YOU long enough,” he murmured.

  Her eyes gleamed. “I could say the same for you.”

  Travis chuckled. “We’ll both have to thank Cory.”

  “She told you to—?”

  “More or less. Actually, she just made a suggestion I was longing for anyway.” His hand slid down over her curved hip to the jagged scar on her thigh. “I didn’t need much prompting.”

  She didn’t stiffen, but he could feel her awareness of where his hand was, and he went on calmly. “Maybe Cory realized that you could never really be sure about me until you … let yourself go.”

  “Is that what I did?” she asked uncertainly.

  Travis gazed at her, his face tender. “Darling, you were wonderful. I thought I’d die with needing you, and you were so passionate, so strong. It was as if I held lightning in my arms.”

  “I … I lost control,” she admitted, her eyes still searching his.

  “I hope you’ll always lose control with me,” he said steadily. “It tore me to pieces inside to hear what you’d gone through after the crash, but I love the part of you that came alive in that hell. The courage. The incredible force you release onstage … and while loving me.”

  Her gaze fell before his, and there were misgivings in the vulnerable curve of her lips. “After the crash, I needed that—that wildness to survive. And it seemed right then. But when I came home, those strong feelings frightened me and sometimes unnerved other people. Onstage, I was reaching out to thousands, and that wildness just came out.”

  “But you hid it offstage,” he finished quietly. “That’s why you didn’t try to have the scar removed, isn’t it? It was a reminder to you not to let that amazing strength escape, because you were afraid it would overpower others.”

  “It didn’t overpower you,” she ventured.

  Quietly, he admitted, “I wasn’t sure I could hold that vital part of you. I only knew that I wanted it, needed it. And it was like …” His voice trailed off for a moment, his eyes darkening. “Like skydiving … or walking a highwire … or daring the eye of a hurricane. I’ve never felt so completely exhilarated in my life.”

  Saber released a sigh. “I felt that way,” she said unevenly. “And I thought you did, too. But I wasn’t sure.”

  “You can be very sure, darling.” His arms shifted their hold, pulling her on top of him. “In fact”—green eyes shimmering with a growing intensity—“I think I’d like to dare the eye of a hurricane … again.”

  “You’ll need something to hold on to,” she reminded him, breathless.

  “I’ll hold the lightning,” he whispered. And he did.

  “You know, you’re larger than life yourself,” Saber said thoughtfully sometime later. They had shared a shower before dressing, she in a caftan and he in a robe. They had called to the main house for dinner to be sent and were now halfway through the meal.

  Travis was surprised. “Who—me? I’m just an observer, sweetheart.”

  “You didn’t seem to be doing much observing a little while ago,” she murmured.

  “Somebody to hold the lightning,” he said, pretending to be wounded.

  Saber smiled but refused to be distracted. “Think about it, Travis. I remember you told me that heroic people fascinated you, and that it was people you wanted to write about. How they got where they are, and what it took to become powerful in some way. I’ve read your books, and your insight into that struggle for success is amazing.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. And so?”

  “And so … how could you have the insight to understand that struggle? It’s easy to understand surface motivations, but you go so much deeper than that. And another thing.” She gazed at him reflectively. “In case you hadn’t realized it, you’re just a little too good to be true.”

  Travis had to laugh at her tone. “Music to my ears,” he said cheerfully. “Play more, darling.”

  “Well, dammit—you’re too good-looking, for one thing.”

  He was aware that women found him attractive, but Saber’s plaintive accusation tickled his sense of humor. “Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black with a vengeance. According to all the studies, men tend to find very beautiful women threatening—and you are certainly very beautiful.”

  Saber accepted the compliment matter-of-factly, even though hers was not the style of beauty she personally admired. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant exactly.”

  “What did you mean?”

  She thought for a moment, frowning, somehow convinced that the point was important. “Well, whenever someone describes me in glowing terms, they’re always talking about the stage presence. But when they meet me offstage, the description is totally different; they say I’m small, I’m slight, I’m fragile. They describe me as less offstage, and more onstage.”

  “Because that’s when you’re most powerful,” he agreed, adding. “They see the lightning—but they can’t touch it.”

  Saber nodded. “But with you … they touch the lightning without knowing what it is.”

  He blinked. “They do?”

  “I did.” She gestured slightly. “From the first moment we met, I felt the force of your personality. It wasn’t a physical or mental attraction: that came a little later. I thought, Now, there’s a handsome man. But something about you made me wary. It was like … like looking at a quiet volcano and knowing somehow that it was about to erupt.”

  Travis blinked again. “Good Lord.”

  She grinned at him. “Well, it was. I mean, you were very calm and patient, but I kept thinking things like ‘still waters run deep’ and ‘ ninety-something percent of an iceberg is below the surface.’ I had the peculiar feeling that my nice gentle tiger went out and ate people at night.”

  He burst out laughing again. “Oh, no! My poor darling, no wonder you were wary.”

  Saber was still smiling. “And the more I thought about it, the more confused I became. There you were, soft-spoken and gentle and patient. A paragon of all the virtues, in fact. You slid effortlessly into my life and I could never quite figure out how you managed to get in under my guard. I … I have a pretty strong guard. But you got in somehow. You didn’t demand—you asked. Politely. But it was unnerving to keep getting images of an iron hand in a velvet glove. A couple of times I was almost tempted to do something rash—order you to get the hell out of my life or something. Just to see what’d happen.”

  “But?” He was grinning.

  Sheepishly, she admitted, “But it’s not safe to watch a volcano erupt while standing on the slopes of the thing.” When he chuckled, Saber went on, “D’you see what I meant by saying you’re larger than life? You say you saw something elusive in me, something I released onstage; I felt something in you, and I was afraid it was something I couldn’t control.”

  “You should have turned your lightning loose on my tiger in the beginning; think of the time we’d have saved! Like I said—I was a little worried that the vital part of you was something I couldn’t hold.”

  Saber frowned a little. “Yes, but I never equated the two. What I felt
in you was … strength and power. What I was afraid of in myself was wildness. I kept having the uncomfortable feeling that I’d reverted or something after the crash. And I guess I did; God knows I survived more by instinct than knowledge.”

  “Yet you thought of me as a people-eating tiger,” he reminded her, amused. “If that isn’t wild, I don’t know what is!”

  “True.” Saber laughed. “I suppose I just wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “I’ll go along with that,” Travis said cheerfully, tossing his napkin aside. “Because if you’d been thinking clearly, darling, you would have fallen instantly in love with my too handsome face and manly form, instead of waiting ‘a little later’ for that.”

  “Travis?” She was trying not to laugh. “What’re you doing?”

  What he was doing was picking up her bodily from her chair and striding toward the bedroom. “It’s going to storm,” he told her amiably. “You should always get under cover before a storm.”

  Saber felt the strength and grace of a tiger’s vital muscles holding her effortlessly and looked into green eyes bright with a kindling fire. She linked her fingers together within the thick black hair. “I guess … tigers like storms,” she murmured breathlessly.

  “This one loves the lightning.”

  He kicked the bedroom door shut behind them.

  Sleepily, Saber murmured. “His tiger’s heart wrapped in a beautiful soft skin …”

  Travis yawned and pulled her even closer to his side. “Quoting somebody?” he inquired.

  “Paraphrasing.” She paused, trying to remember the source. “Greene. Robert Greene. But his tiger’s heart was wrapped in a player’s hide. I think. Anyway, you’re no shabby tiger. That’s from somebody else.”

  He chuckled. “You’re not making much sense, darling. Still, you do pretty well for bottled lightning.”

  “Is that what I am?”

  “Certainly. Although the quote I had in mind is in a totally wrong context. ‘Bring in the bottled lightning, a tumbler, and a corkscrew.’ Dickens.”