“These are yours.” He looked up at her, his hands on her knees. “Everything I have is yours.” He opened her cuffs, folding the fabric back at each wrist. “Open your collar a bit. You'll not like the restriction at your throat.”
He stood up, held a hand out to her. “Ready?” “This doesn't make sense.”
“Humor me. Run.”
“Where?”
“It doesn't matter. Just run. Go. Feel the night air take away your fears. Run.”
He was crazy. That had to be the explanation. She started walking north, deeper into the prairie, letting the bright moon light her way. He walked behind her. Close. Like other times. Other terrible times she'd been taken in the grass. Used. He was behind her.
“Run.”
She wanted to run. She wanted to run and run and never stop. She picked up her pace. She couldn't outrun him. Men were built for speed, and he was so close behind her.
“Run, Sarah,”
he ordered.
And then she did. She lifted her hem and ran. She quit looking at the terrain streaming by her, quit fearing a misstep. Her legs moved fast. The cool night air pulled at her hair, brushed past her neck, stole her breath. Her legs stretched beneath her. She lifted her nightgown high up her thighs. Each step brought her farther from something, closer to something. Freedom. She settled into a steady, swift pace, feeling the muscles of her legs working. She forgot that Logan ran behind her. She lost herself to the run until she ceased to even be aware she ran. It seemed she floated effortlessly through the night, with no tethers, no destination, no worries. Just going. Somewhere. Anywhere.
Logan came even with her. She looked at him and laughed. She stretched her arms wide, lifted her face to the night sky. She never wanted to stop. She lost track of time. She wondered if Logan had been right, if she could surrender her nightmare to the sky and the wind and the night, let her spirit be healed.
She pictured the wind not just slipping over her but through her, filtering out the pieces of her soul that harbored memories of the evil done to her, lifting it away like dust caught on white lace. It was working. She could feel herself growing lighter, easier. She felt fearless, endless. Whole.
Gradually, she became aware of her body growing fatigued. She was hot and thirsty. She slowed to a walk, then doubled over and held her knees. “I can't run anymore.”
She straightened and looked at Logan, who had kept pace with her the entire time. She smiled, panting. “That was amazing. It helped. I feel better inside.”
Logan watched her, and there was no humor in his face. “You laughed.”
Sarah's stomach tightened. Had she broken a rule? Had she done something wrong?
“It was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.” He looked over her head at the night sky and drew a deep breath. “I thought I would have to wait years before I heard that.” He said no more, but started back to the wagon.
She fell into step beside him and reached for his hand. He looked at her. She smiled. “I want to run every day.”
“Then we'll run every day. I'll do anything to hear you laugh again.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“Will the nightmares end, Logan?”
He drew a long breath and released it slowly. “I don't know. We can't make them end. We can only reach for each other when they come.”
“I love you, Logan Taggert.”
He stopped, forcing her to stop, too. He drew her close, holding her only by their joined hands. “You love me?”
“I do.”
“I cannot live without you, Sarah.”
“Nor I you.”
He nodded. “Then we will find a way to live.” He wrapped an arm about her waist and continued walking. “We'll have a good life, honey. I will give you joy.”
“You already have.”
The sky was growing light when they reached the wagon. The horses were restless, needing water and feed. “Why don't you go back to sleep?” Logan suggested. “I will see to the horses. We are not in a hurry to get where we are going.”
She shook her head. “I will make us breakfast while you see to the horses. Better keep them away from me.” She grinned at him. “I'm hungry enough to eat one of them!”
Logan turned away, locking the sight of her teasing smile away in his heart. He heard again her shocking outburst of laughter when they'd run, the purest of sounds. He longed to hear that sound again, to feel the joy she cast on him and the entire world with her arms opened wide.
He began to whistle. Maybe, just maybe, they would survive her injuries.
Â
The long, cooling hours of dusk were giving away to night. Sarah had washed and put away their supper dishes. Logan had seen to the horses. He was preparing for his evening ritual of bathing, brushing his teeth, and shaving. She had already washed her face, brushed her teeth, and was in her nightgown, ready for bed when she went to sit on the fold-down table and watch him shave.
He'd hung a mirror off the side of the wagon and had laid out his grooming items on the table. He took his suspender straps off his shoulders and dropped them at his sides, then pulled his shirt free. Realizing she was watching him, he grinned at her. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Watching you.”
“Why?”
“I like looking at you. I don't think I've known a man as beautiful as you.”
He moistened his toothbrush and dipped it into a tin of tooth powder. “Men aren't beautiful. Girls are,” he argued, speaking around a mouthful of toothbrush.
She smiled. Folding her legs in front of her, she wrapped her arms about her shins and watched him. “Everywhere we've been, the women found you very pretty indeed.”
He spit the concoction in his mouth out and rinsed. “I wouldn't know. I was too busy keeping men away from you.”
He drew his shirt over his head. Four angry scrapes were slashed across his chest. More lesions marked his upper arms. “Logan! Good heavens! Look at you. I did that, didn't I? I thought I was dreaming, but it was real.”
He set his jaw as she jumped off the table and turned him to see the scratches. She'd fought the warriors who first captured her, fought them mercilessly, slashing at them with her nails, her teeth, her feet. There had been too many. They'd simply held her down for each to take his turn. The man she'd scratched so terribly had wanted to just kill her, bash her head in with the flat side of his tomahawk.
She sent a terrified glance to Logan, waiting for his punishment. She'd backed herself against the side of the wagon. She could easily have slipped from his holdâhe was not restraining her. He held her chin, his face bent near hers. He was saying something to her, his words low and soothing.
“... I will always protect you. You will never be harmed in my care. Hear me, Sarah. I will always protect you. You will never be harmed in my care.”
She blinked. He was repeating himself, repeating his vow, murmuring it so that it slipped into her soul, calming the fear, doing battle with her memories. He was Logan. He would not harm her. She had hurt him, but he would never hurt her.
“I'm sorry.”
His eyes were unblinking, his gaze fierce. “You were afraid. You did not know what you did.”
“I didn't want to hurt you.”
He smiled, achingly patient, endlessly calm. “You haven't hurt me. These are just scratches.”
“I will get the salve Laughs-Like-Water gave us.”
He nodded. “I'll wash first, then you can put it on.”
In the wagon, Sarah sank down onto one of the benches, her arms wrapped about her waist as she took a moment to compose herself. She'd lashed out blindly last night, intending to harm, lost in a memory, a thing no more real than an ephemeral thought. What had been was done. It was a situation that no longer existed, one that would never exist again. It had the ability to harm her only through her own mind. She had to be strong. She had to fight her own demons.
When she rejoined Logan, he was halfway through a shave. White foam covered one side of his face. He scraped lines of it off with his straight razor, holding the skin at his neck taut, moving his jaw to give the blade access to his beard. Finished with the shave, he splashed water on his face, then mopped off the extra dots of white with a towel. He cleaned his blade and shaving brush, emptied the water, then put his shaving kit away.
He turned to her. She waited, barely breathing, forcing herself to appear calm. “So, wife, heal me.” He set his hands on his hips and grinned down at her. She poured the oil into her palm, savoring the sweet scent that filtered into the air. She rubbed her palms together, warming the oil as she faced him. He had a light feathering of blond hair on his chestâa chest covered in sculpted muscles that tapered from broad shoulders to a narrow waist. She pressed her palms to his skin, over the red slashes. She drew her hands down the marks, moving lightly, careful not to press very hard against his skin.
“More.” Logan bent his head to her, his mouth very near her ear. “Use more lotion.”
She poured a bit more into her palm, then lifted her hands against his chest. “I am so sorry, Logan.” She looked up at him.
He watched her with a hard, steady regard. His pupils were dilated, darkening his pale eyes. “I forgive you,” he whispered.
She filled her palm with more oil and started to work on one of his arms. His arms were thickly muscled, so different from her own. He didn't flinch as she eased the lotion into his skin. It felt strange to be touching a man. She poured another measure of oil and worked on his other arm. The heat of his skin warmed the lotion, deepening the sweet fragrance in the air between them. She took her time with his other arm, in no hurry to move away from him.
When she could no longer pretend to be treating his scratches, she moved her hands over to his stomach. Spreading her fingers, she pushed her hands up through his chest hair, feeling the bulges and hollows of his chest until her palms stopped over his heart. Her gaze moved up, over his collarbone, his neck, his jaw. His bottom lip was fascinating, rounder than his upper lip.
“I want to kiss you, Logan.”
“Then kiss me.”
“I'm afraid I will be ill.”
He grinned. “Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Give it a try. See what happens. I won't kiss you back unless you ask me to.”
She looked into his eyes, then reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Lifting herself onto tiptoes, she pulled his head down to hers and did what she'd been longing to doâtouch her mouth to his. He did not hold her, did not press against her. He kept his mouth closed, moving ever so slightly in response to the pressure she exerted.
She ran her lips along the soft skin of his newly shaved cheek, then pulled back just enough to focus on his eyes. “I think it would be all right for you to kiss me back.”
A smile lit his eyes. “Tell me what you want.”
“Hold me.”
His hands immediately came up to grip her shoulder blades, his arms banding around her, hard, protecting. He bent toward her, waiting for her to take the lead. She kissed him once, twice.
He growled in frustration. “Honey, let me show you how to kiss your man.” He turned his head, setting his mouth across hers. He captured her lips in his, pressing and releasing his way around the entire circumference of her mouth. He opened his mouth. She did as he did, felt his tongue enter her mouth. She reached forward to touch her tongue to his, softness to softness, incredibly intimate. She pressed against him, holding him to her ever more tightly. His hands at her shoulders lifted her as his mouth worked against hers.
She'd never been kissed like this before. It filled her with incredible warmth, heating her from the inside out. She broke the kiss and started it over again; this time she did to him what he'd done to her. He opened himself to her, took what she gave. She sent her tongue into his mouth, searching for his. He met her thrust, passed her tongue, entered her mouth. In and out. Over her tongue, under it. Sliding back and forth.
She was melting inside. She could feel his body's responseâhis erection pressed against her belly. This was Logan. Her Logan. He would not harm her, would not laugh at her or shame her. What was between them was between only the two of them. She would not be ravaged in front of others.
He broke the kiss. “I think, wife of mine, that if you don't want nightmares again tonight, we'd best stop with kisses.”
She lowered her heels, running her hands down his arms. She flattened her palms against his ribs as she pressed her forehead to his chest and worked on calming her breathing. “Will we run tonight?” she asked after a minute.
“If you like. We can talk all night if you want. We can sleep in each other's arms. We can make love. We can do anything you wish. For the rest of our lives.”