This Fierce Splendor

foothills, it looked small and far away. Too far to attempt until she eased the nagging ache in the hollow of her spine and the numbness of her bottom. “Just for a little while.” She added politely, “If you don’t mind. I know I’ve taken a great deal of your time and-”

“For God’s sake, I don’t mind.” He cut her off harshly. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to stop.” He got off his horse and came around to stand by the mare. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

“It was a good idea,” she said indignantly. “In spite of your forebodings, I didn’t fall off and it’s perfectly natural for me to become a little tired. There was no need for you to come with me, and I don’t need you to stay with me now. Why don’t you go back and-”

“Be quiet.” He jerked her from the saddle with more swiftness than gentleness. “You wanted to rest.” He set her on her feet, took the mare’s reins, and turned away. “Rest.”

She watched him lead his own horse and the gray mare down the trail and tether them to a pine tree several yards distant. Then he was turning and coming back to her, a brown saddle blanket over his arm, his expression as hard and closed as it had become from the moment he had seen her walking toward him across the stableyard this morning.

He spread the blanket beneath a pine tree a few yards away. “Sit down.”

She was becoming very tired of both his churlishness and his orders, but it would have been ridiculous to refuse a much needed rest out of sheer contrariness. She crossed to the blanket and sat down. The ground was hard but far better than the saddle which had reminded her of an instrument of torture before she had been on it more than fifteen minutes. She stretched her legs out in front of her, supporting herself on her arms. The sky was a brilliant blue between the spiky fronds of the evergreen branches above her, and it was blessedly cool here among the trees. A bird was singing somewhere above her and the air was full of the scent of crushed grass and pine. The surroundings were inexpressibly soothing, and, in a world so lovely, she found it difficult to remain annoyed with Dominic.

Perhaps he had a good reason for his shortness with her; he had probably wanted to spend these precious hours at Killara with his family yet felt it his duty to come with her. Heaven only knew, she had been burden enough of late to annoy a saint. Her dreamy gaze shifted from the peaceful blue sky to Dominic, who sat leaning against the gray-brown bole of a pine tree a few feet away. His arms were linked loosely around his drawn-up knees and his black stetson was pulled low to shadow his features. It was a relaxed position, but he was radiating a tension that seemed to reach out and touch her with its leashed power. He disturbed her, and she didn’t wish to be disturbed in this tranquil spot. She moistened her lips nervously with her tongue, trying to think of something to say that would rid the atmosphere between them of that disquieting emotional charge.

“Don’t do that!”

Her gaze flew to his face. “I beg your pardon?”

He drew a harsh breath, his fingers clenching together so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Never mind.” He closed his eyes. “Talk to me.”

She stared at him in bewilderment. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t care.” Anything to keep him thinking and not feeling. Anything to keep him from going over the edge.

She was silent, looking at him. What did he want from her? He was in need-she could feel it-but she didn’t know how to fill that need. Yet she desperately wanted to help him, she realized suddenly. “Shall I tell you about Kantalan?”

“Why not? Dreams are as good as anything else.”

“Its not a dream.” For some reason she experienced no resentment from the impatient comment. “Oh, I suppose dreams were a part of it, but if I hadn’t had more than that to hold on to, they wouldn’t have been enough to sustain me through all those arguments with my father.”

“I thought he believed Kantalan existed.”

“He did.” She looked down and began absently to smooth the creases in her riding skirt. “That wasn’t what the arguments were about. It was the city’s origin that my father wouldn’t…” She drew a shaky breath. “He said I was a fool, that I was an ignorant child who would never approach either his knowledge or his insight.” Her nails dug into the heavy gabardine of the skirt. “Maybe he was right about me, but he was wrong in this. I know he was wrong. Kantalan wasn’t built by the Toltecs, it was a separate colony. All the clues were there but he refused even to try to put them together.”

“Colony?” Dominic’s lids had opened and his light eyes were gleaming in the shadowy darkness of his face.

She wished she could see his expression, those translucent, burning eyes watching her were making her a little nervous. “Have you ever heard of a place called Atlantis?”

He didn’t answer her for a moment. “If I have, I don’t remember it.”

“Atlantis was an island, the birthplace of civilization. It was destroyed by a great earthquake that sent it to the bottom of the sea. Everyone thinks it’s a fable made up by Plato, but I believe it existed.” She paused. “And I believe Kantalan was one of its colonies.” She waited, as if expecting him to refute her words. When he didn’t speak, she rushed on. “Oh, I know Atlantis was supposed to have been in the Mediterranean and Kantalan half a world away, but there are too many similiarities for them not to be tied together somehow. No argument can convince me that Kantalan didn’t spring from Atlantis.”

“I’m not arguing, Elspeth. I’m listening.”

And watching her with an intentness that made her heart pound and her mouth grow dry. She looked down again, her finger nervously resuming its tracing of the crease in the fabric of her skirt. “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve become accustomed to defending my theory from attack.” She moistened her lips again with her tongue. She heard a low sound, as if Dominic had suddenly shifted, but when she looked up she realized she must have been mistaken; he was sitting in the same place. Watching her. “It seemed so clear to me. There are so many similiarities.”

“What similiarities?”

“The legend of Kantalan speaks of its great pyramids, and Atlantis had pyramids. Both civilizations worshiped Ra, the sun god. Atlantis had four rivers intersecting the city and Kantalan is said also to have had four rivers forming a cross in the middle of the city. The legend speaks of a great lodestone in the temple of Ra that had magical properties. What other civilization could have given birth to such a wonder? Oh, there are so many things. I believe that the Egyptians, Toltecs, Mayans, and the Incas were also colonies, but that they somehow evolved differently. Perhaps because of Kantalan’s isolation it was able to retain its similarities to the mother country. Dear heaven, I hope that’s true. Can you imagine actually being there, studying a city that’s a mirror of Atlantis?”

“No, I can’t imagine it.”

“Well, I can.” Her eyes glowed softly with excitement and her breasts were rising and falling with each breath. “I can imagine strolling through the streets and seeing the statues of the ten kings, of walking into the palaces and finding the ceilings of ivory and walls of gold. I can imagine seeing the four rivers that form a cross and the-”

“Stop!” He was suddenly beside her, pushing her back on the blanket. He had tossed his hat aside and she could see what had been hidden in its shadow. Her breath left her body and heat turned her bones soft and melting. His chest labored with the harshness of his breathing and a pulse pounded wildly in the hollow of his throat. “I can’t imagine any of those things. I don’t know anything about Atlantis or Kantalan. I don’t even want to know. All I want is you.” His lips covered hers with a fervor that brought no pain. His arms closed around her with desperation, his hands tangling in her hair as he moved over her. His lips worked swiftly, feverishly, draining her of strength in a hundred kisses that robbed her of breath and made her head spin.

“No!” she murmured. “I don’t want this.”

“Yes, you do,” he muttered. “We both do.” His tongue plunged into her mouth, stroking her with warmth. Lowering his hips, he moved slowly, yearningly, against her.

She gasped, a shiver tingling through her. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did want this to happen, she thought dazedly. It was difficult to decide with this haze of heat enclosing her. Dominic’s fingers were swiftly unbuttoning her blouse, pushing down the straps of her chemise. She should stop him.

Her breasts were swollen, hurting as they had the night they’d ridden back to Hell’s Bluff. She gazed up at Dominic’s face in helpless fascination. His sun-gilded skin was flushed, his lips drawn back from his teeth in a feral grimace. Slowly he pulled down the bodice of her chemise and looked at her. Something strange began to happen to