Dawn of Valor (24 page)

He settled his arms around her shoulders. “Prove it to me,” he baited, feeling her moist breath against his face. “Show me, Angel Eyes. Give me a kiss that will last me four months. God, that’s such a long time apart from you.”

“I know,” Rachel quavered, kissing each corner of his mouth, feeling his returning heat, his strength. Chase pulled her hard against him, his mouth capturing hers, beginning a wild, hungry assault that dissolved reality, hurling her into a world of bubbling liquid heat and light. The breath was torn from her as his mouth claimed hers in savage adoration. Rachel felt herself becoming sunlight, absorbed into Chase, carried on a river of fire that arced and raced throughout her. In those unshackled seconds, nothing existed but the man she loved with a growing fierceness that left her breathless and wanting more. Much more.

Chapter Twelve

“C
aptain Trayhern, I’ve got bad news for you.”

Chase glared across the Travis Air Force Base operations desk at the enlisted man who worked in aircraft scheduling. “What?” he ground out.

“Sir, that transport carrying the medical personnel from Japan has been delayed by winds aloft. They aren’t going to land for another hour.” The clerk, dressed in a starched and pressed khaki uniform, gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, sir. I know you’ve been waiting a long time.”

With a curt nod, Chase thanked him, limping away from the desk with the aid of a cane. He hated the cane, but it was better than hobbling around on crutches, which he’d thrown away last month.

Unhappy over the delay in Rachel’s flight, his leg aching, he went over to the lounge filled with plastic-backed chairs and sat down. Military personnel were constantly moving in and out the doors leading to the landing apron where aircraft were parked. Most were wounded soldiers returning from Korea. Others, like himself, waited patiently for loved ones to arrive from overseas.

He stretched out his injured leg, scowling at it. Lately he’d been a bear about everything. Four months without Rachel had worn on him. He missed her more than he could ever tell her. One hour. One lousy hour longer before he’d have her in his arms, warm, alive and smiling. Chase rubbed his face tiredly. He hadn’t slept well at the hospital this past week in anticipation of Rachel’s arrival.

He slid his hand inside his Air Force blouse, pulling her last letter from his breast pocket. Holding the stationery to his nose, he inhaled the fragrance. Rachel always put a drop of perfume on the letters, and he’d appreciated the feminine touch.

Glancing out the double glass doors, Chase watched as a wife and two children waited anxiously on the steps, calling to a man walking wearily from a transport plane, his face slack with exhaustion. Chase saw the man’s eyes light up with life as his wife ran down the steps, throwing herself into his waiting arms. He swallowed hard, unable to watch the poignant reunion. How would Rachel react to him? How was he going to behave? His hands shook as he carefully unfolded the long, thick letter.

Rachel wrote to him every day. He’d receive five or ten of her letters at a time, because getting mail out of Korea was inconsistent at best. Still, Chase had lived for those times when the postal orderly stopped at his bed and delivered a bundle of letters to him. It made up for those long, interminable days when he didn’t receive any.

Her handwriting was pretty, the letters curved and flourished.
Like her,
he thought, lifting his chin, staring sightlessly through the crowd of civilian families milling around in the terminal, eagerly awaiting returning fathers, husbands and brothers. All the noise, the laughter and talk faded from Chase as he focused on Rachel’s last letter.

The past four months had been hell on her, too, if her letters were any indication of how much she missed him. Chase memorized all her letters, running them through his mind and his heart. When pain from his healing leg kept him awake at night, he would narrow his world, his feelings, to just Rachel. Memories of her brought relief from the agony he suffered twenty-four hours a day.

Outside the windows, the sun had broken through the low-hanging stratus clouds that were as much a part of San Francisco as the Golden Gate Bridge was. Cargo transport planes trundled like overweight behemoths along the taxi strips, taking off or landing. There were always ambulances on the apron, waiting for the medical transports to disgorge their wounded occupants and carry them off to the military hospitals.

Chase remembered that time, frowning. The first week without Rachel had been pure, unadulterated hell. Chase glanced at his watch. How could a minute take so long to go by? And yet, in combat, a minute was a different kind of eternity. Still, these were the longest moments of his life, right now. He was unable to sit any longer, having been in bed too many months without much exercise. Resting wasn’t his forte. Even though physical therapy was a special kind of hell, Chase looked forward to getting out of bed and leaving the ward for an hour or two each day. He’d return from therapy weak and exhausted.

Chase replaced the letter in his breast pocket and slowly got to his feet. The cane he carried in his left hand would be thrown away—soon. None of the nurses thought he’d recover so quickly. The doctors at the military hospital were pessimists at best. He didn’t have much respect for them. Chase limped over to the row of unending windows, staying clear of the constant stream of traffic at the doors. The clouds were lifting and separating, letting thick slats of sunlight shaft downward to highlight the busy air base. It was spring, and the grass was a vivid green, surrounding the city of concrete hangars.

As he stood waiting, Chase wondered what Rachel was thinking, how she was feeling. Was she as excited as he was? Scared? Chase felt like an unraveling ball of emotions. He closed his eyes, wanting so badly just to feel her in his arms again.

Rachel pressed her hand against her heart, which was pounding like a kettledrum in her breast. The cargo plane had just landed at Travis. Inside the murky grayness of the fuselage, specially rigged cots contained many patients. She and five other nurses, all returning from their tour of Korea, had cared for the injured soldiers en route. Peeking out a window, she could see the tower and operations building in the distance. Was Chase waiting for her inside that large glass enclosure? Had he gotten her letter detailing the time and place she would arrive?

Rachel heard the plane’s four engines change speed, the aircraft creaking and groaning as it trundled across the runway toward the operations building, known as Ops. She saw row upon row of waiting ambulances. She was the senior medical officer on board. Before she could go to Ops, she had to oversee the disembarkation of the patients. Rachel closed her eyes, taking a ragged breath.
Chase…
In her heart and mind, she could picture him. What did he look like now? How well was he walking? Was it true that he was already using a cane?

Rachel smiled, picturing Chase throwing his crutches into a wastebasket. That would be like him. His letters were life to her. He wrote every day, something that had surprised her. Men usually weren’t letter writers. Her love for him had mushroomed over the months. It was as if Chase sensed that she needed the lifeline of his words and thoughts. Over the course of four months, the letters they had exchanged had made up for the brief period they’d known each other. Any communication trouble they’d had before was gone.

Every letter contained something new and fascinating about Chase—how he felt, what he believed or how he saw the world and himself. There were times that Rachel had sat in her tent, reading and rereading his letters. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she broke into helpless gales of laughter over Chase’s latest pranks on the hospital personnel. She was sure the nurses on his ward would be glad to see him go—sooner, rather than later. A smile tugged at her lips, and Rachel savored Chase’s boyish good humor. He was a kid playing grown-up. And she loved him fiercely for that.

The plane drew to a halt, the brakes shrieking. The door was opened by a flight crewman, and the moist sixty-degree weather flowed into the fuselage, replacing the stale antiseptic atmosphere. Rachel unfastened her seat belt and got up, moving forward. For the next hour, it would be all business. And then, she would be free—free to see Chase.

Standing at the opening, Rachel looked across the concrete apron that separated her from Ops. It sat a quarter of a mile away, but it might as well have been an ocean of distance to her. She squinted against the sun, the wind lifting and playing with strands of her hair. A mass of civilians crowded the steps, waiting for their loved ones to be brought from the plane to the ambulances. Disappointment threaded through Rachel because she couldn’t locate Chase. Perhaps he hadn’t received her letter in time. Turning, Rachel tried to prepare herself emotionally for the fact that the doctors might not have allowed Chase to leave the hospital grounds to meet her.

Trying to put aside her own anxiety, Rachel rallied for the sake of the men. Even if Chase wasn’t at Travis, she would find a way to get to him. Nothing was going to stop her. Nothing.

Glumly Chase stared out the windows. Ops was quiet once again, all the families of the injured having gone out to meet them at the ambulances. He’d spotted a red-haired nurse, a blonde and a brunette, who had directed the orderlies to ferry the patients off the plane and take them to the ambulance area. But at no time had he seen Rachel.

Turning away, Chase saw the last patient enter the ambulance. All three nurses walked from the plane toward Ops. Rachel hadn’t been on the plane. He’d already questioned the scheduling clerk, but until the pilot left the plane with papers identifying everyone on board, Chase wouldn’t know anything further.

His joy turned to pain, and he felt his heart exploding with grief. He’d waited so long for this day. Somehow, Rachel hadn’t gotten on the plane. Maybe she was still back in Japan or worse, Korea. There could have been all kinds of travel snafus preventing her from arriving at Travis. Limping slowly toward the lounge to retrieve a cup of coffee and wait for the pilot, Chase knew there was nothing else to be done. But dammit, waiting was hard. Shoving his hand into his pocket, he felt around for the folded confirmation slip from the Mark Anthony Hotel where he’d made reservations for them. All his plans were destroyed.

“Chase!”

He jerked to a halt, his eyes widening. Rachel’s voice.
No, impossible!
He twisted his head to the right. His mouth dropped open and his heart took one long, hard leap in his chest. Rachel stood poised just inside Ops’ glass doors, her hair in disarray, her green eyes huge and beautiful with welcome.

“Rachel…” he whispered, turning around.

Rachel raced across the polished tiled expanse, her arms open, her hair flying across her shoulders. Chase stood, disbelief etched in his rugged features. As she closed the distance between them, Rachel saw tears in his blue eyes. Choking out his name, she slowed and threw her arms around his neck.

“Chase…” she quavered, pressing the length of her body against him, burying her face against his wool uniform.

“Oh, God, you’re here….” Chase whispered raggedly, gathering her into his arms, holding her tightly—holding her forever. Chase plunged his face into her clean-smelling hair, groaning, taking her full weight. She felt so good against him, warm and pliant. His cane clattered to the floor as he lifted both hands to frame her joyous face. Tears streaked her flushed cheeks, but this time, they were tears of joy.

“I love you,” he said simply, capturing her smiling mouth, drinking deeply of her sweetness, her liquid warmth. Seconds spiraled into forever as Chase hungrily kissed Rachel, tasting her lips, the corners of her mouth and finally, worshipping the inner softness of her. He felt her moan, her fingers digging frantically into his shoulders. They were both trembling.

Laughing breathlessly, Rachel touched Chase’s face. “You’re here, you’re real….”

“Yeah, I am. God, you look more beautiful than ever,” he whispered hoarsely, threading her silky hair through his fingers. “So beautiful…”

Rachel stood wrapped in Chase’s arms, staring deeply into his eyes, absorbing his love, his emotions. “I’m sorry for the delay, but I had to unload all the patients before I could leave the plane,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I tried to get the pilot to radio Ops to tell you I was here, but he cited regulations.”

Chase’s hands tightened on her shoulders, his eyes flashing with anger. “The bastard.”

She grinned. “He’s obviously not in love, or he’d have understood and made the call.”

Chase stared down at her, unable to keep his hands off her. As always, Rachel’s olive fatigues couldn’t hide her womanliness from him. “You’re here, that’s all that counts,” he said roughly.

Reaching up on tiptoe, Rachel kissed him repeatedly. They were little kisses all over his face, reminding Chase of a highly excited, squirming puppy.

Laughing, Chase groaned and held her hard against him. “You feel so good,” he whispered. “You don’t know how many times a night I dreamed of this moment, of feeling your softness, your heart against me….”

His words, low and gritty, created an ever-widening ache through her. Rachel nodded, content to be held, her head pressed to his chest and her arms around his waist. “I won’t even tell you about my dreams,” she admitted breathlessly.

Chase bent over, catching her amused green eyes. “Torrid, by any chance?” He saw her blush and laughed heartily. God, it felt good to laugh again. He was alive! Alive!

“I’m taking the Fifth on that one, Captain Trayhern.” His smile drove through her like lightning illuminating the sky.

“Where’s your duffel bag? We’ll pick it up and leave. I’ve got a car parked out front and we’ve got reservations for the finest hotel in San Francisco.”

Her heart picked up in beat. “One of the flight crewmen took all the duffel bags to Baggage Claim. A hotel?”

Chase nodded, his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close. “How does that sound?” As badly as Chase wanted to love her, he wasn’t going to try to stampede Rachel into it. He saw momentary darkness in her eyes and added, “Listen, I love you. I’m not going to force you into anything, Rachel. If you want two rooms, I’ll get us two rooms.”