Page 60 of Shadow Target

Everything halted for Willow. She no longer sensed anything else around her; didn’t feel the warming breeze that came with the sun rising, heating the ruddy Ethiopian soil around them, didn’t hear the birds flying overhead, chirping madly above them. All she wanted was Shep’s mouth cherishing hers. His calloused, work-worn hands framed her face. The love he held for her alone was broadcast with every touch, every punctuated moist breath against her cheek, telling her how much he treasured her. His kiss was hungry and needful, but then, as if realizing her condition, he softened his mouth against hers. Within his arms she felt so fragile that she might break. How injured was she?

They separated slightly. Willow felt dizzied by her relief that Shep was alive. She stepped back, still in his grip, whispering, “I love you so much… so much… I thought you might die…”

He groaned. “Willow, I was terrified for your life…” He stopped. Looking deeply into her eyes, he rasped unsteadily, “We were meant for one another. And if we didn’t know it before? We know it now…”

A sob tore from her as she sank back against him, his body strong and supportive whereas she felt like she was falling apart, piece by piece. It felt so good to be able to put her arms around his torso, squeeze and hold him, his one hand around her waist, and the other ranging slowly up and down her back, as if to sooth away the terror that still inhabited her. Willow lost track of time. Shep was the center of her universe. Eventually, she became aware of the pain in her knees and awkwardly stepped out of his arms.

“You’re pretty cut up,” Shep said worriedly, holding her arm as he scowled and examined her bloodied knees.

“They hurt like hell.” Willow saw Luke trot up to them, his face glistening with sweat, his expression grim with concern.

“Are you all right, Willow?” he asked, coming to a halt, rapidly assessing her from head to toe.

“I’m getting there, Luke.”

“The general landed the helo up at the airstrip,” Luke told her. “Let’s get you up there. Your next stop is the emergency room at the Bahir Dar hospital. He’ll fly you in. Land right on the helipad next to it.”

“Sounds good, Luke. Then? All I want to do is go home afterward,” Willow whispered wearily. She glanced over at Shep. “And be with you… that’s all I’ll ever need…”

***

“How do you feel now?” Shep asked Willow. There were waterproof bandages around each of her injured knees and she’d been able to take a long, hot, luxurious bath to soak all the soreness and stiffness out of her body, first thing after arriving at her condo.

Willow lifted her lashes, taking his hand to step carefully out of the large tub. “So much better…” He slowly eased out of the tub and onto the soft pink rug beside it.

Shep watched her closely. Willow had swollen, dark-purple-and-blue bruise lines across her shoulders and abdomen from when the harness had bit deeply into her flesh during the crash-landing of the Otter. That harness had saved her life. She would have at least been stunned without it, and David’s men would have had her, an option far worse than merely dying in the crash. Later, she had fallen several times during her run to escape, Shep had found out, her knees taking the worst of it. Thankfully, the Ethiopian doctor in the ER told her that yes, they were cut and deeply bruised, but she had not sustained any lasting injury to either of them. That was the good news. However, it was going to take a lot of stitches and surgical tape to close them and two more weeks before she could walk unassisted or even bend them much.

He took a fluffy lavender terry-cloth towel and brought it across her shoulders for warmth. The bathroom was small, and steamy from her long, luxurious soak in the tub. She thanked him, drawing the towel around her. He took a second towel from the rack and began to gently dry off her arms and hands, then softly patted her bruised and swollen shoulders, breasts and belly. Worried by how exhausted she looked, he quickly patted dry her hips, that beautiful butt of hers, her long, long legs, and finished up with her feet. Placing the towel aside, he brought a cushioned stool over so that she could sit down.

“Ohhh,” she sighed. Slowly sitting straight legged, one hand gripping the rim of the sink, the other tight on Shep’s thick forearm, she eased the pressure off her knees. “That’s sooo much better.”

He took the towel from around her shoulders, patting dry the bits he’d missed. He lifted a silky purple robe off the hook behind the door and crouched to help her into it. Kneeling, Shep brought the robe together and gently tied the sash for her. “There,” he murmured, looking up, seeing her eyes dark with fatigue. “Tell you what,” he said, rising. “Would you like to go lay down for a while? Just rest? Because you’re barely keeping your eyes open, Willow.”

“If you’ll lay down with me?”

“Let me take a shower, first? Get out of these dirty clothes? Then I’ll come and join you?” and he trailed his fingers through the unbrushed hair he’d just washed for her. Picking up a comb, he gently eased the snags out of her red tresses, and in no time, he’d gotten them somewhat tamed and glinting beautifully around her face, neck and shoulders.

“I’d like that,” she whispered. “I feel bludgeoned, Shep. Like someone hit me in the head with a sixteen-pound sledgehammer.”

“Adrenaline crash combined with your reaction to the Otter crash,” he reassured her. Standing, he placed the comb on the counter. “Tell you what: I’m going to carry you into the bedroom. You’ve walked and run enough today those damaged knees of yours.”

She smiled a little. “That would be nice,” she agreed softly.

He carefully lifted his warrior woman into his arms, placing her against his body, absorbing the sensation of her slender arms slipping around his shoulders.

Willow sighed his name, and rested her brow against his shoulder and jaw as he carried her from the bathroom to their bedroom.

Looking at the clock, it was 3:00 p.m. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Shep inhaled her feminine scent and the spicy cinnamon fragrance of the shampoo he’d used on her hair earlier, strands still damp and tickling his jaw.

Pushing open the door with the toe of his boot, he carried her to the bed that she’d made in the morning of this fateful, nearly fatal, day before leaving for work. After he posited her on the mattress, her head coming to rest on the pillow, he brought the blue silk coverlet over her so she wouldn’t be cold. “Close your eyes, Willow.” He caressed her hair and shoulder, watching her red lashes drift downward. She was already asleep, but he wasn’t surprised, knowing how a severe adrenaline rush affected even the hardiest. His hand moved down her sleeve, silently grateful that she was alive. Best of all? She would recover; he could love her fiercely for the rest of their lives together.

Quietly, Shep left the room, leaving the door a bit ajar, and went to the bathroom to finally get cleaned up himself. He wanted to take the smell of war off him. And as long as they remained in Ethiopia, war was always nearby. It was something they would always have to remain alert to.

Willow awoke with a start. She felt Shep’s arm around her waist, his body molded against her back and legs, his head rested on her pillow beside hers. It seemed to be evening, and she lifted her head. The clock on her dresser, opposite the bed, read nine p.m. Shocked, she slowly eased away from Shep, sitting up, pushing a mass of now-dry hair behind her shoulders, and straightening out her rumpled silk robe.

“Hey,” Shep mumbled, “no need to go anywhere…”

She turned, watching him drowsily roll onto his back, rubbing his face with his hands. There was a light-blue blanket across him. Under it, he was naked, and beautiful to her. And he was hers. “I woke you… sorry….”

---