"I damn near flipped," he said, low-voiced, "when I realized you'd been raped. I thought I'd do something wrong and spoil any chance of waking you up again."
I laughed, suddenly very sure of myself with this man for the first time.
"Then you didn't realize I gave up the moment you sat down on that lounge like some damp eunuch?"
He threw his head back, laughing. "Damp eunuch? I'll eunuch you," he said with a growl, but I held him off. "You will have the courtesy to hear my declaration of love and affection all the way through."
His eyes remained brilliant with laughter and love, but his face was a mixture of astonished delight.
"Then you waltzed up to me with that girth, and that clinched it! Ooops, I'm doing it now!"
"I love you, I love, love you, Nialla," he crowed. "I was so afraid that it was only gratitude you felt…"
"Gratitude?" I sat up so fast I almost clobbered him under the chin. "For the misery you've put me through the last few days, wondering if you married me only because you felt some responsibility for Russ Donnelly's orphaned kid, or because you wanted to own Orfeo."
His face was abruptly grave. "When I saw you from the stands in Sunbury, Nialla, on that sorrel, I was positive I knew you. And I couldn't imagine who I knew who rode like that or who owned that gorgeous sorrel mare. That's why I came to G-Barn. I had to find out who you were." His smile was ineffably tender as he stroked my cheek. "I didn't know it, but I was hoping to find a gawky redheaded tomboy I'd seen on an old show horse in Agnes du Maurier's pasture. She told me to keep my cotton-pickin' hands off her trainer's daughter for at least ten years. I was pretty bitter right then-I'd just paid through the nose to get rid of Amazon Number Two. You know how Agnes talked, blunt and to the point. She'd a few choice remarks to make about my life and habits, and wound up giving me some stringent advice. I've never been sorry I took it. Her final words went something like this: 'And the next time you pick a wife, pick one who rides, one you can mount without a ladder. Don't pick a shower, pick a winner. Like that nice kid down there.' And she pointed toward you."
"You mean, you didn't make that up… about waiting for me to grow up?"
He shook his head slowly. "I don't bother with social lies."
"You mean, you knew who I was all along?"
He shook his head again, ruffling my hair. "No. I was looking for red hair, remember? But after we rode that morning, I had my suspicions. Your father taught you a lot of his distinctive style, Nialla. I almost asked you flat out, the morning after the fire, only…" He hugged me very hard, his lips moving softly against my cheek. "God, Nialla, I can't believe my luck."
It was so very magical to be held close, knowing I was really safe, with his arms locked around me, our tired bodies comfortable, our minds attuned. I've no idea how long we might have stayed that way if Jerry hadn't come running up the front stairs, knocked urgently on the front door.
"Jesus, can't I ever have you to myself?" Rafe released me reluctantly.
"Boss, we've caught all the lose stock but… Orfeo. And, boss, he's in such a state I can't get near him. You know damned well Albert won't help, and Dennis… well…"
"Have you located him?" I asked, amazed at how revived I was when I got to my feet.
"In the jump pasture, ma'am, and we can't get near him."
"He hasn't hurt himself?"
"Gawd, no." Jerry sounded disgusted.
"And the cat?" Rafe asked.
Jerry swore under his breath. "He's sitting on the stone fence laughing. Honest, boss, he's sitting there laughing!"
He probably was, if I knew Dice. But that meant that Orfeo was really okay.
"Rafe, we really ought to get him in."
"I brought the hackamore and a rope," Jerry said, holding them out helpfully. "There's one helluva storm ready to break, too."
"Get your shoes on this time, Nialla."
One was under the couch, and I finally located the other under the end cushion.
By the time we started for the jump pasture, the sky was completely black with thunderheads, roiling and growing if you glanced up at them. Orfeo wasn't usually bothered by thunderstorms, but…
"We can put him in the orchard pasture shed overnight, Nialla," Rafe said as we half-trotted, half-walked along. "Jerry says the smoke smell in his stall is very noticeable. The rain may wash it away, but a night in the orchard shed won't hurt him. A night in a smoke-filled stall might."
Lightning crackled open the sky above us; thunder rolled a peal a few heartbeats later. But we were at the jump pasture, and the flare outlined Orfeo midfield. When the thunder died away, I called him and saw the magnificent head turn. A cat's complaint wafted across the storm-silenced field. I called again, and almost cried out with relief as the horse began to move toward us.
"Now, if that thunder'll shut up…" Rafe said as we ducked under the fence slats.
I kept calling encouragingly to Orfeo, walking slowly to meet him, Rafe at my side. Thunder rumbled much too near, and the black gelding tossed his head, whinnying sharply. He began to trot, Dice veering to run beside him, and Orfeo bent his head briefly to check on the cat. Fifty feet from us another clap of thunder sent him shying away, galloping off at a tangent.
I waited until the thunder died and called him again. Almost as if he recognized that I was the only safety in this darkening, terrible-noised world, Orfeo wheeled back, racing to me, showering my legs with cut turf as he slid to a halt.
For a horrible instant I thought Rafe might move too swiftly to secure the gelding. I ought to have known better. Rafe still considered Orfeo my horse, and only I had the right to manage him.
I got the hackamore over the gelding's nose, up over his ears, talking to him quietly. Orfeo snorted restlessly, the pre-storm tension swirling around us.
"You'd best ride him back, Nialla," Rafe said, and laced his fingers to give me a leg up.
On sudden impulse I shoved the bunched reins at Rafe.
"I can't sit. On him or anything, you damned sadistic wife-beater. You ride him."
Rafe gave me such a look I shall never forget, and then, as if he was afraid I'd change my mind or something, vaulted to the gelding's back like a circus rider. Instantly he was stroking the startled gelding's neck, crooning to him, letting him accept the weight of an unfamiliar rider. Cautiously he took the reins, making contact with Orfeo.
Thunder boomed, lightning crashed, illuminating Rafe's exultant face. Orfeo pivoted, not from the unaccustomed rider, but away from the sound. Rain pelted down, huge, heavy globbets of water.
I stepped back. "Go on, Rafe. I'll follow." Dice brushed against my legs, meowing with distaste for the rain, and then plunged in mad leaps across the pasture to the fence.
"The gate's over to the right, Nialla. About ten feet."
"Gate?" I demanded, laughing. " 'Fraid of a little bitty fence, steeplechaser?"
"I love you, Nialla," Rafe shouted above the thunder.
I saw him lean forward, watched Orfeo move out, lift into a canter in a few strides.
There was more than one fence in the path Rafe took to the perimeter of that pasture. And lightning obliged as they took the double hurdle. They were dark shapes across the storm-black field at the broad water jump. I could feel the beat of speeding hooves through the soles of my sandals as Rafe headed Orfeo toward the pasture fence. Orfeo squealed as he tucked his hooves under him and soared over. It was an expression of surprise, not fear or fright, as if he approved of the fearlessness of his rider -as much as I did.
I trotted after them, lifting my face to the sky to be washed in the torrents that fell, warm and soft.