Nor did she pitch her tent too close to the five rocky pools that glittered like gemstones
along the cliffs base. As much as she liked water, she liked the desert animals better.
Bighorn sheep drank at Hidden Springs. If she crowded too close to the water, the animals
would stay back among the dry rocks, waiting and thirsting until the thoughtless intruder
left.
Holly started making a trench around her tent to carry off any rain that might come. Just
as she finished, thunder rumbled down the granite face of Hidden Springs.
Straightening, she measured the sky. The sun was no more than a pale disc burning behind
clouds that thickened and changed as she watched. Streamers of mist flowed down the flanks
of stone peaks, softening their masculine angles.
Lightning flickered too fast to be seen clearly in the late-afternoon light. Thunder came
again, closer now, carried on a rising wind.
The sudden coolness of the air was more intoxicating to Holly than any wine. She laughed
aloud and stretched her arms out as though to hold both clouds and mountains.
Later, when she was cold and wet and water overflowed her careful trench, Holly knew she
would rue the moment she had greeted the storm with laughter and open arms.
Yet at this instant she was like the land itself, hot and dry, waiting for the pouring
instant of release.
Sunset was as sudden as thunder. Light drained out of the sky between one moment and the
next. Needles of lightning stitched randomly through the lid of clouds.
Holly smelled rain on the wind, but no drops fell nearby. Somewhere above her on the
mountainside clouds were pouring themselves into the land. Somewhere water was brawling
down dry ravines, playfully juggling boulders as big as her Jeep.
Somewhere the waiting had ended and the storm had begun.
But not here, not yet. Here there was only her and the silence between bursts of thunder.
Even when Holly lay within the tent trying to fall asleep, the rain hadnt yet come. It was
cooler, though, almost cold. Lightning flared randomly over the rocky land, pulling
thunder behind like another color of darkness.
Then came a different noise, hoofbeats pounding down the mountainside.
Holly couldnt tell the exact direction the horse was coming from. The rocky cliffs and
ravines baffled hoofbeats, adding echoes that overlapped and faded and changed directions
until she wondered if she had imagined the sounds in the first place.
White light blazed directly over the tent, followed instantly by an explosion of noise so
great she didnt immediately identify it as thunder. Blinding light and black sound
alternated with dazzling speed.
Wild hoofbeats rattled in the silence between thunderclaps. A horse screamed in fear.
Somewhere near Hollys camp a horse was running over the rugged land mindlessly, terrified
by the storm.
She came out of the tent at a run. She knew there was little chance of helping the
panicked animal, but she couldnt simply cower in her tent and listen to the horses
terrified scream.
She ran to the shelter of a boulder field just up the slope from her tent. Crouched with
her back to the wind, Holly stared into the night, trying to find the horse.
An explosion of sheet lightning lit up the sky from horizon to horizon, freezing time into
a black-and-silver portrait of a horse rearing wildly on the low ridge just above her
camp. Nearly lost in the horses long, flying mane, a rider fought to control his crazed
mount.
For an instant it seemed the rider would win. Then thunder came again, breaking apart the
world. Black sound and white sky melded into light so fierce that the eye couldnt see,
sound so brutal that the ear heard only silence.
Lightning continued in an incandescent barrage, outlining the plunging horse. Holly knew
the ridge, knew it was impossible for a wildly running horse to keep its feet.
With each new stroke of white light, she expected to see the horse go down, smashing
itself and its rider against granite boulders, killing them both.
And then a chill greater than the rain swept over Holly as she realized who the rider was.
Linc!
Holly called Lincs name again and again, screaming at him to jump and save himself.
She kept on screaming even though she knew he couldnt possibly hear her. The thunder was
so loud and continuous now that she couldnt even hear herself, though her throat was
tearing apart with the force of her cries.
Yet still Holly screamed at Linc to jump off, because that was the only way he could save
himself from the mindless terror that drove his horse.
Horse and rider kept plunging together down the dangerous, boulder-strewn slope.
Holly made an anguished sound when she realized that Linc had no intention of abandoning
the horse to its own terror. He was sitting deep in the saddle, using all his strength and
skill to keep the horse from going down, riding a whirlwind with a savage determination to
save both of them.
Though Holly screamed with fear for Linc, she didnt blame him for wanting to save the
horse from its own folly. Even in the grip of panic, the Arabian was magnificent. Its body
rippled with muscular beauty. It moved with a cats quickness and grace.
Linc, too, was magnificent to watch, so extraordinary in his skill and strength that Holly
forgot to be afraid for him. He was part of the horse, shifting his weight from instant to
instant, braced in the stirrups, using his powerful shoulders to drag up the horses head
whenever the animal stumbled.
Holly began to believe that horse and rider would survive the wild plunge down the boulder
field.
Then the world turned inside out and an ocean poured out of the sky.
Instantly she was up and running toward the ridge. She knew that no skill, no strength,
nothing but a miracle could prevent the Arabian from going down in the greasy mud that
would be created during the first instants of the cloudburst.
The inevitable fall came during a burst of lightning. The horse twisted and turned wildly,
trying to keep its feet where nothing could walk, much less run.
At the last possible instant Linc kicked free of the somersaulting animal. He fell like
the trained horseman he was, head tucked in, body relaxed, ready to roll and absorb the
worst of the impact.
Linc did everything possible, but there was nothing he could do about the boulders in his
path.
Holly ran through the rain, crying soundlessly. The ground turned to grease beneath her
feet, sending her staggering and sliding. A river of rain poured over her, choking her.
She found the horse first. It was lying on its side, trembling all over, drenched with
rain and lather. As Holly ran toward the horse, it groaned and heaved itself to its feet.
The animal took a few tentative
steps, then stood docilely, not even flinching when lightning sizzled across the ridge.
For the moment, the Arabian was too stunned by its fall to be afraid of anything.
Holly clawed up the last few feet of the slope to the boulder that had so brutally stopped
Lincs fall. Lightning forked across the sky, revealing Linc. He lay on his back,
motionless. She skidded to her knees beside him, shaking with fear. Linc!
Her voice was hoarse, no match for the thunder boiling through the night. She crouched
over him, sheltering his face from the downpour.
Bursts of lightning outlined him harshly. A cut beneath his hair was bleeding. The blood
looked black in the white light. His shirt was shredded down his right side, but beneath
the ribbons of cloth his chest rose and fell in even rhythms.
Alive.
For a moment Holly was too dizzy with relief to do anything but put her hand on Lincs
chest and savor the strong beat of his heart. Then she shook herself and looked around.
Linc was alive but far from safe. If he was injured, she wasnt strong enough to carry him
to the tent. Yet she had to get him out of the chilling rain.
Lightning came again, followed slowly by thunder. The center of the storm was moving away.
Rain still fell hard and steady, but it no longer qualified as a cloudburst. The first,
most violent minutes of the storm were over.
Gently, very carefully, Holly ran her hands over Lincs arms and legs, searching for
obvious injuries.
She felt nothing but the resilience of his muscles beneath his soaked clothes. She moved
her fingertips lightly over his chest, searching for any swelling that might tell of
cracked or broken ribs.
Linc groaned, startling her.
Holly snatched back her hand before she realized that her light touch wasnt what had
caused him to groan. It was the pain he felt as his body returned to awareness.
While Linc struggled out of unconsciousness, his head moved slowly from side to side.
Holly let out a sigh. The motions eased a fear she had been afraid even to acknowledge.
Thank God,Holly thought fervently.His neck isnt broken . Suddenly Linc rolled onto his
side and tried to sit up. He grabbed his head and groaned again. Take it easy, Holly said
quickly. Youve had a fall. He shuddered.
Linc?
As he turned toward the sound of Hollys voice, lightning burst. His eyes were dark, dazed.
What . . . ? he asked, then said no more.
Your horse fell, Holly answered loudly, trying to make Linc understand between bouts of
thunder. Your. Horse. Fell.
Linc started to nod in acknowledgment, then grimaced and held his head again. When his
right hand dropped, it was streaked with blood.
Holly stared anxiously into the darkness that divided violent bursts of lightning. The
worst of the storm might be letting up, but it was far from over.
Can you move? she shouted.
His only answer was a stifled groan and an attempt to get up.
Just sit up at first, Holly said.
Painfully Linc pulled himself into a sitting position, helped by Holly.
She touched the right side of his head with gentle fingertips. There was a small swelling
at the base of his skull. Blood seeped slowly.
Holly had no way of knowing whether Linc had a concussion or simply a cut.
Do you hurt anywhere else? she asked.
She had to repeat the question several times before Lincs head moved in a slow negative
gesture.
Then you must stand up, Holly said urgently. Ill help you, but I cant carry you. Please,
Linc. Stand up!
Using the boulder and Holly, Linc managed to lever himself to his feet. When he stood,
dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. Anxiously she supported him.
Then Linc started to walk with the same grim determination and strength he had used to
save his horse.
After a few false starts, Holly adjusted to Lincs uneven stride. Together they reeled and
staggered down the slope toward her tent.
A small battery-powered lamp filled the tents interior with yellow light. For the moment
at least, everything was still dry.
As Holly eased Linc onto the floor, she realized that he was shivering uncontrollably. She
had to get him warm, quickly.
She tore off what was left of his shirt. His soaked boots and jeans were harder to remove.
As she struggled to drag the denim down his legs, she was divided between frustration at
the stubborn cloth and
admiration for the powerful lines of Lincs body.
The sleeping bag Holly had rented was large, loose, and lightweight. It would not radiate
back body heat very efficiently, but it was all she had. She unzipped the slippery nylon
bag with three quick strokes, rolled Linc inside, and zipped the bag shut again.
Lincs eyes opened. When he realized that he was inside a tent, he started to sit up. No,
Holly said firmly. Dont try to get up. He ignored her. She held him down with her hands on
his shoulders and the force of her whole body. Lie down, she commanded. You have to get
warm.
Horse. Lincs voice was barely a whisper. My horse.
It was on its feet before you were.
Lightning bleached the interior of the tent. Thunder came like a falling mountain.
Linc sat up, sweeping aside Hollys hands with a strength that frightened her. Even dazed
and injured, he was far stronger than she was.
Dizziness struck Linc again, chaining him for a moment. Holly knew that he was too stunned
to realize his own danger and not rational enough to argue with.
Linc was a horseman through and through. He would see that his horse was cared for and to
hell with the consequences to himself.
Ill take care of your horse, Holly said urgently. But you must stay here. Do you
understand? Stay here!
With an effort, Linc nodded.
She helped him lie down again, grabbed a pocket flashlight, and went back out into the
storm. For the first time she really noticed the rain. The drops were almost icy, for they
had condensed at high altitudes.
The Arabian was standing where Holly had last seen it. The horses head was held low. It
was still breathing rapidly. The animals body heat steamed outward, draining warmth into
the chill air.
Holly shivered repeatedly as she worked over the horse, checking for injuries. Other than
a few scrapes, she found nothing. She led the Arabian down to the partial shelter of
boulders and chaparral. The horse followed without limping.
A barrage of lightning made the Arabian shy violently, jerking Holly off her feet. She
scrambled upright again, tore off her blouse, and blindfolded the animal.
After that, the horse stood absolutely still, ignoring lightning and thunder alike. Holly
loosened the cinch and rummaged in the saddlebags, hoping to find a hobble. There was only
a hatchet, a large folding knife,
and a ball of rough twine.
Not good enough, Holly muttered. At the first yank, twine will either give way or cut the
horses legs to the bone.
She took a deep breath, peeled off the blindfold and quickly twisted it into something
that resembled a hobble.
As Holly bound the horses front legs with her blouse, the Arabian sniffed her wet hair.
Then the animal snorted wearily and gave up all thought of fear and flight. The horse
didnt even object when Holly threw a flapping tarp over its back. She laced the waterproof
cloth onto the animal as best she could with twine.
By the time Holly got back inside the tent, she was shaking with cold. Her chilled fingers
were clumsy, making hard work of peeling off her own wet clothes.
Finally she managed to get rid of the last cold, dripping piece of cloth. She dug out dry
jeans and a jacket, yanked them on, and crawled over to check Linc.
He was neither awake nor quite asleep. His skin was cold.
Holly knew just enough about hypothermia and shock to be afraid for Linc. Yet there was
nothing more she could do to help him. Even if she could get him to the Jeep, Antelope
Wash would be in full flood.
Linc, Holly whispered. What can I do?
She looked at the dark hair curling down over his forehead, framing the strong face that
had haunted her dreams. His eyebrows were thick, dark arches spiked with gold. His mouth,
usually generous with laughter, was drawn with cold and pain. Drops of water gleamed in
his mustache.
How many times Holly had dreamed of seeing him again, touching him and feeling his touch,
hearing his laughter and tasting him on her lips. Helplessly she wondered what had changed
him from the gentle, passionate man of her memories.
What did I do to Linc that I deserved being cut off from him all these years?
Only silence answered Hollys painful question. Despite Cyns appearance with Linc
yesterday, Holly knew that he hadnt been dating anyone six years ago. His motives for not
keeping in touch with Holly at first were as much of a mystery to her now as they had been
when she had wept over unanswered letters.
Why did Linc become cruel and sarcastic, his cold eyes watching me, his words slicing me?
No answer came to that question, either.
Slowly Holly bent to brush her mouth over Lincs. For a long moment she kissed him, warming
his cool lips, tasting the raindrops beaded in his mustache, trembling with memories.
Part of Holly was ashamed of stealing back a piece of her dream while Linc slept, unable
to protest the caress. Yet she couldnt help herself.
Nor did she really want to. It was little enough to warm the emptiness in her.
When Holly lifted her head, there were tears caught in her lashes. She watched Linc for
long moments, forgetting her own chilled body. The strong heartbeat and the easy rise and
fall of his chest beneath her hand reassured her.
Then she began to dread the coming morning, when he would wake up, realize she was
Shannon, and stare at her with cold-eyed contempt.
But there was nothing Holly could do about that. Tonight she and Linc needed each other on
the most primitive level.
Sheer animal warmth.
Without hesitating any longer, Holly unzipped the sleeping bag and crawled in. There was
barely room inside to breathe, for the bag hadnt been designed to hold two people.
Especially when one of them was the size of Lincoln McKenzie.
Shaking with cold, she switched off the lamp and managed to zip up the sleeping bag once
more. After a long time, their shared warmth heated the bag enough for both of them to
sink into troubled sleep.
Holly dreamed that she woke up in Lincs arms, his lips against her neck, her body pressed
along his. The tip of his tongue teased her mouth until she sighed and smiled, giving
herself to his kiss with the sensual abandon that only he had ever drawn out of her.
She felt his breath against her ear and shivered with delight. His hand slid over her thin
jacket, caressing her breasts. The touch was more vivid than any dream of him she had ever
had before.
Then Holly realized that she wasnt dreaming.
Her eyes flew open. Daylight glowed in the tent, but not half so warmly as Lincs eyes.
Holly, he murmured, tracing her lips with his tongue. My sweet Holly. I thought I had only
dreamed you.