The Last Cavalier by Heather Graham Pozzessere

Author:Heather Graham Pozzessere [Pozzessere, Heather Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780373470822
Google: 0v1cUFY_YJQC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 650117
Published: 1993-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

There were wonderful, incredible things to this new world.

None of them was more wonderful than Vickie.

Jason saw her slow smile at the window, and he saw her turn. He turned his eyes to the door of the old house—old by either of their standards—and he waited for her to emerge.

In seconds, she did so, the wealth of her hair streaming behind her, catching the last drops of sun, shimmering with red lights. She was wearing pants now, the same manner of pants he was wearing himself, and they hugged her hips, outlining with a fascinating clarity their curve and shape, the length of her legs, the subtle slimness and agility of her.

Hmm. So that was progress. People had ceased to wear as much clothing.

On Vickie, it was progress, he determined.

And as she approached him, he discovered again that everything else faded, the reality of a war that disappeared, the numbing incredulity that he had stepped into a different time. Everything faded for those precious moments, everything but the uniqueness of the woman.

In seconds she was before him with her stunning clear blue eyes and fire-lit wealth of soft auburn hair. He reached out to cup the cheek of the beautiful face and it felt as if all the desires within the universe burst forward within him. God, yes, she could make him forget the horror. Make him forget all he had left behind.

Because she was so important to him. With her courage, her fire, her determination. And with her simple beauty.

He groaned softly, then swept her up into his arms. Her fingers laced around his neck. Her eyes met his. Her brow rose delicately and the husky query in her voice sent hot shivers racing down his back.

“You don’t mind barns, hmm?”

The sweet clean scent of her was intoxicating.

“Actually, ma’am, I’m mighty partial to barns.”

Her lips curled in a slow, lazy smile. Keeping his eyes laced with hers, he walked the distance into the old red barn. He had happened upon the perfect place out there. A clean stall filled with fresh, newly mown hay. There had been an old blanket there, frayed but sweetly clean, too, and he’d cast it down already in very high hopes.

He carried her there and laid her down, taking her lips, marveling at the sweetness of them, of the giving that lay within her. The delicate pink tip of her tongue met with his, parried, rimmed his mouth with heady sensuality, met and locked with his once again. He wondered if he would ever understand what was so different and wonderful about this woman. He didn’t think that it was time that had really changed her. From what he had seen so far, things changed, people didn’t. He had been lonely and bitter for aeons, it seemed. Loving his wife, hating her death. In all those months nothing and no one had managed to dispel his deep sadness. It had been war, and survival and responsibility, he tried to tell himself.

But battle was not continuous—though it had seemed so at times.

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