The world closed in around them, enveloping them in spume and sound. With her arm still around his neck, Steve released her legs and she slid down him in a sensuous glide of damp skin against damp skin until her feet gained purchase in water that came just above her waist. Sculpted muscle drifted under her palm as her hand coasted over his body in a light skimming exploration, over the taut band of muscles on his chest, then the corded ropes of muscle on his belly, lower until she found him in a brazen caress.
He sucked in his breath as she held him. She didn’t need to hear the words to decipher his mood, for his body was willing evidence that he wanted her.
As water lapped around them and spilled over high black knees of rock studding the cliff, Steve put his hands on her waist and lifted her to straddle him, his legs apart and braced for balance. She understood immediately, and put her arms around his neck. Her breasts were against his chest, her legs clamped around his hips.
Then he was inside her, filling her with a swift, hard thrust of his body, his hands guiding her movements as she shuddered. Warm sunlight, cool water, heated friction and the rhythmic noise of crashing water combined in a collage of exquisite sensations that Ginny knew she would never forget.
"Bruja…mi corazón…." His husky endearments were whispers in her ear, the thundering roar of the falls muting words and world, drowning her in pleasure and aching love.
Later, she would remember their hours on the mossy rock and in the pool with wistful longing, for it was the last time for quite a while they were to be so carefree….
18
Zacatecas at last. The ancient grove of trees still stood sentry, heedless of time and the elements, casting deep shadows in the blue light of late evening. Dogs began to bark, a scattered sound in the soft dusk. Splinters of light like huge fireflies flickered behind thick-boled trees and dusty leaves. Their horses picked up the pace, sensing the end of the journey.
Home. There was the sense of returning home, to a familiar beloved place, Ginny thought. Yet she had felt this way the first time she had come, strangely enough, as if she were coming home after a long journey.
Now it was true, in a way.
Vaquera rode out to greet them, armed and grinning, acting as both an escort and a guard. “Don Esteban, you are expected!”
“So I see. Luis, where is my lazy cousin, that he will not come out to greet us?” Steve rode a little ahead, lapsing into the dialect of the vaquera, laughing with them when it was drolly observed that Don Renaldo was no doubt unaware of the time again.
“He reads all the time, that one! The señora must always coax him out of the house, or he would never be seen about.”
But when they neared the house, the door opened and Renaldo came out to greet them with his wife at his side.
“¡Hola! Cousin,” he called cheerfully, his tall, rather stooped frame silhouetted against the welcoming lights inside. The two-story house sprawled at the end of a long, curving drive flanked by tall shrubs. Nightblooming flowers clambered over a trellis and lent a fading fragrance to the air. Twin lanterns illuminated a shallow flight of steps to the narrow porch that wrapped around the house.
Aching, unaccustomed to the long ride, Ginny dismounted stiffly, then yielded her reins to the small boy who came running up to greet them.
“Don Esteban, Doña Genia!” the boy said, grinning from ear to ear, his teeth white in a dark, shining face.
Steve had already dismounted, and passed a hand over the top of the boy’s head to ruffle his hair. “¡Hola, Juan! You have grown since last we saw you.”
“Sí, Don Esteban!”
“Esteban,” Renaldo said, stepping down from the porch to greet his cousin, “we received your telegram just yesterday, but the little house is ready for you. Missie and Rosa saw to that.”
“Rosa is here, too?” Ginny smiled with pleasure as she went forward to greet Melissa Carter Ortega, Renaldo’s wife.
Missie was smiling, her pretty freckled face as young as it had been when last she saw her, untouched by years or tragedy.
“Ginny, it’s so good to see you again,” Missie said, and it was obvious she meant it. She came to her, arms enclosing her in a hug that was both affectionate and warm. Then she stepped back, laughing. “But come inside! You must be exhausted after your trip, and I want to hear all about Laura and Franco. I can’t believe that they’re nearly four now. I miss them so. Oh, and you must meet our Alejandro. Why, he’s not yet a year old but so big…well, you’ll see.”
Half turning when she reached the top step, she said to her husband, “Don’t you let Steve go off anywhere with Luis. I know how they are, so you just bring them on inside with you. Later, you men can catch up on everything.”
Missie took control so efficiently and good-naturedly that no one complained, but instead complied with her wishes as easily as if it had been intended all along.
Ginny soon found herself divested of outer garments and trail dust, ensconced in a huge stuffed chair that bespoke comfort and welcome, sipping fruit juice from an iced glass. Missie certainly had blossomed after marriage to Renaldo. She was confident now, mistress of the house and her own nature, and quite obviously still terribly in love with her husband.
There was an inner glow to
