Storm Warrior

Morgan was staring off at the constellations climbing above the eastern horizon, when suddenly she felt his presence, just as she did in so many of her dreams of late. Had she fallen asleep at long last? She turned her head to find Rhys standing at the bottom of the porch steps. How does he manage to look so tall even there?

“What ails you this night?” he asked.

“Ails—I don’t think I’ve heard anyone use that word since Nainie.”

“What troubles you then,” he amended, obviously humoring her. “It’s a cool night indeed to be sleeping out of doors.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not much sleeping going on tonight. So I decided to watch the stars instead.”

He nodded. “My mother taught me about the stories in the sky. I like to watch them too sometimes, when my head needs clearing and my heart needs settling.” Before she could think of a response, he was sitting beside her on the porch swing. “You have that look about you,” he said. “A soldier who’s lost a friend in battle.”

Morgan sighed. “I lost two patients today. Two.”

“You fought hard for them.”

“How would you know?”

“It’s your way. The best of healers are warriors at heart. I’ve seen it—” Here he stopped and seemed to search for the right words. “I saw you fight for Lucy,” he said at last. “You gave her everything you had in you. Most would have shaken their heads and given the horse a quick and merciful death. Instead, you fought with skill and with spirit, and now she’ll be sound and whole again.”

“I sure wish the successes took the sting out of the losses. I didn’t win today and it makes me feel like I failed. And I knew these animals, personally—I feel like my patients become my friends. My teachers used to say that I cared too much, that I’d burn out early because of it.”

“You have a heart for animals. If the day should come that you cannot care, that’s the time to be walking away from it. No one can fight for long without a cause they can feel in here.” He put a hand to his chest and slid the other around her shoulders. “And you feel cold to me. How long have you been out here?”

“A while.” Most of the night, actually. She allowed him to pull her close and rested her head on him. Relaxed a little, then a little more. Rhys’s powerful arm around her was warm and solid and oh so welcome. She was tired right down to the bone, physically and emotionally. Not only was she tired of battling the injuries and disease that threatened her patients, she was pretty damn tired of fighting her attraction to this man.

So when he leaned into her, she met him like she met everything else in her life—square on. Except he wasn’t a battle to be won. His lips were firm but soft, and they teased at hers, nibbling at the corners of her mouth, darting the tip of his tongue along her teeth, gently sucking her bottom lip until she shivered—and not from the cold. Arms around her, he grazed his lips along her cheekbones and over her eyelids, glissed them over her brows until the furrows in them relaxed, kissed his way to the peak of her forehead and somehow eased the headache that had been pounding there. Morgan wound her fingers into his hair and drew him back to her lips, lips that were throbbing now, wanting. His mouth settled warmly over hers, gave and filled and soothed and aroused with only kisses…

She came up for air to find that he’d somehow tucked her into his lap. Or perhaps she’d slid into it herself —she didn’t know and didn’t care. Gloriously half-stunned by the storm of sensation he’d caused, she simply settled back against him in delicious warmth and wonder, her head under his chin.

“What do you see in the sky?” he asked. The rumble of his voice, so close she could feel it as well as hear it, was like a caress.

“I always find the hunter, Orion, first, and then I look for his dog.”

Rhys chuckled. “It is no surprise that you should choose that one. What you call Orion, my father called Lludd of the Silver Hand. The god of healing. Lludd has a dog too—right there—a great deerhound that could cure any disease with a lick of his tongue.” He then pointed to the crescent moon. “When the moon is like that, we called it Dwynwen’s Bow. Like most Celtic women, Dwynwen was a huntress and a warrior, but she also became the patron of all sick animals.”

“I sure could have used her help today,” said Morgan.

“Perhaps she is helping. Dwynwen also looks after all true lovers. She brings them together and comforts them when they are apart, and strengthens the tie between them. Perhaps she was the one who woke me and told me something was amiss with you.”

True lovers…Uh-huh. She decided to let that lie for the moment. “Is that why you’re awake? You thought something was wrong?”

“I felt it. So I came.”

It was so matter-of-fact, it reminded her of her grandmother. Always sensing things, knowing things, as if she could pluck the information out of the air. Morgan couldn’t imagine what that would be like—or could she? What about the vivid dreams she’d had of Rhys before she’d met him? Hadn’t she decided they were premonitions of a sort? A ripple of pure pleasure shot through her as she recalled how incredibly sexy those dreams had been —and realized they could be true. If she wanted them to be. If she wanted Rhys. True lovers…

Her sensible side intervened at once. She hadn’t had enough sleep. She was too tired to make relationship decisions. She had to get up early. And she hadn’t known Rhys all that long—and still didn’t know much about him. If he remembered his last name, he hadn’t announced it. And if he’d forgotten something that basic, what if he’d forgotten he was already married with six kids and a mortgage? With anyone else, she’d just ask them outright. But with Rhys, would she trust the answer?

Fiery arousal fizzled abruptly, doused with the cold water of reality. She could practically hear the hiss of steam as she struggled to her feet.

“I’d best go inside,” she said.

He rose as well. “Aye, you’ve been awake overlong. And I’d best see to Lucy.”

Neither of them believed it was best, she thought, as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “I hope you rest well,” he said and headed down the steps and across the yard.

Damn.

Even in jeans, even when the light was dim, even when she was doing her darnedest to quell her attraction, he still had the best butt on the planet.

It was so not fair.

FOURTEEN

Morgan didn’t come out to the stable the next night. Or the next. On the third night, she came by to ask Rhys if he still had enough food in his fridge—and of course, he did, but he invented a few things he needed just to be sure she’d return. She lingered a few minutes, checking over Lucy’s dressings, but he sensed there would again be no companionable visit.

He caught her arm as she turned to leave. “Have I given you offense?”

“No, of course not. I’m just really busy this week, that’s all. I’ve got a new vet joining us on Friday.” She looked uncomfortable and more so when he stroked her upper arm with gentle fingers.

“Glad I am to hear you’re to be having more help—the gods know you’re needing it. But the weight of the world seems on you still. Perhaps I could be lifting some of your burden?”

Morgan shook her head. “Thanks but no. It’s something I have to work out myself. Alone.” She gave him a weak smile and left.

Aye, he thought to himself as frustration sparked. You’re working out if I’m mad and if you dare get any nearer to me. There was no help for it, however—she’d made it plain that she didn’t want his company while she sorted through her feelings. All he had to offer was patience and more patience.

By all the gods, he was weary of being patient. Leo had encouraged him to court Morgan, but it was