Page 58 of D-Day

Her shod hooves made a hollow clip-clop sound on the thick plank flooring, the sound echoing in the stillness of the barn as she led her past beautiful wood and black wrought iron box stalls to the middle of the barn and her cozy home.

She made efficient work of stripping the horse of her tack, leading her to the heated wash area, hosing her off with warm water, cleaning off every spec of mud and sweat, then drying her thoroughly, covering her with a heavy horse blanket when she was done.

When she led her inside the freshly mucked and strawed interior of her stall, there was a fresh flake of hay and a measure of oats ready and waiting. Removing the lead, she gave her a smack on the rump, then dragged the heavy door closed, shooting the bolt as she hung the lead shank on a hook by the door. A black plaque with her name in white was placed on the ornate slats outside the stall.

She bent down to pick up the saddle, bridle, and pad, heading toward the tack room. When she got to the tack room, she heard footsteps, a pang went through her when she passed the small room where she and D-Day had made love for the first time. She pushed the ache away. Wade always came down to the barn to help her with the tack. He was such a sweetie.

“Hey, you’re late,” she groused, smiling at her censure. “I thought I was going to have to do all the hard work by myself.”

“We can’t have you working that hard, darlin’” His deep voice went through her like sunshine, and she whirled around to find D-Day standing at the doorway to the room.

She dropped all her tack and folded her arms across her chest. “You son of a bitch! I saved your life, and I haven't heard from you for a month.” The feeling of being isolated from him made her unsure. Her heart pounding in her chest, she stared at him, feeling shaky and afraid. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The muscle in his jaw tense, his expression so rigid he appeared angry, his jaw flexed, then he answered in a clipped tone, “I was working things out, and I tried to reach you, but you were out of touch.”

Deciding to give him some space, she started to turn away, but he lunged forward and caught her wrist, palm sliding against palm as he gripped her hand. The instant his fingers slid through hers, she understood, and she closed her eyes against the wild surge of emotion that made her shiver. With a low moan, she turned blindly into his arms, sliding her hands up his back in a desperate hold. There was an instant, just a heartbeat, when he remained rigid, then his resistance buckled, and he caught her against him in a viselike embrace, releasing a ragged groan as he found her mouth with a kiss that shattered her senses.

His hand supporting the back of her head, he locked his other arm around her hips, hauling her up against him. His mouth opened hungrily against hers, feeding a need that raged in him, and Helen sagged in his arms, the frenzy in her chest making it impossible to breathe. He twisted her head, asking for more, desperate for more, and she yielded, giving him access, drawing him deeper and deeper as he probed the moist recesses, as if he were famished for the taste of her. Another guttural sound was torn from him as she moved against him, and he widened his stance, pulling her hard against his groin, thrusting against her with a thick, heavy need. Helen cried out, and he drank in the sound of her response, the feel of his hardness making her heart pound and clamor as a rush of hot, pulsating desire slammed through her. Caught in a delirium of need, she twisted against him, and the passion in him exploded, his hunger turning desperate, his need raging out of control.

And he pulled her to that little room where this had all begun, taking her down, down into a storm like no other.

Awareness returned in fragments—like slivers of light winking across her mind—and Helen tightened her arms around him, twisting her face against his damp neck, the firmness of the bed beneath her and his weight on top of her the only reality.

In that small room, everything poured out of D-Day as he explained what had happened to him, how he had internalized it all, and how she had, through her support and tenderness made him understand that he was the man she deserved.

A tremor coursed through her, the rush of emotion so intense, it was almost unbearable, and she clenched her jaw against it, tears of profound joy slipping down her temples. God, but she loved him. So much. So very much. Drawing a deep, cleansing breath, she slid her hand up the back of his neck, cradling his head against her with infinite tenderness. D-Day shuddered and pressed his face against the curve of her shoulder, his hold on her tightening convulsively. There was only sorrow for the family who hadn’t been able to see the treasure they had shunned, and the pain it much have caused him.

Helen closed her eyes waiting for the ache of emotion to ease a little, then she slipped her hands through his hair over and over and pressed an infinitely tender kiss against his neck.

“You changed my life, too,” he murmured. “I’m stupidly in love with you and can’t live without you in my life.”

She smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes. “Can I say it now?” she whispered.

He gazed down at her, his expression softening into a near smile. His voice gruff with emotion, he said, “Yes. Please say it, Helen.”

She gave him an uneven laugh and hugged him hard, lifting her head to press a kiss against his neck. “I am stupidly in love with you. So, I guess that makes us both dunces.”

Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers, his grip on her tightening. It was a long time before he spoke, his voice roughened with raw emotion. “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that. I knew it in my heart, but it’s infinitely more beautiful coming from your lips.”

“Welcome home, Andrew. I feel we have all the time we need to make plans.”

He stared down at her and his expression softened, open, and vulnerable. He smiled into her eyes, a spark igniting. Then he lowered his head, brushing her mouth with a tantalizing kiss. “Merry Christmas, hellion. I’m sure you’ll keep me on my toes.”

She laughed against his mouth and tightened her arms around him. “And on your back.” She nipped his bottom lip, urging him on with a small thrust of her hips, “And on top of me, up against walls, and any surface that suits.”

He laughed and hugged her hard, slipping his arm under her hips as he thrust against her. “This surface suits me just fine.”

Their love would only continue to grow, and they would be together always, forever wherever he went, wherever she was, he would always be home with her.

EPILOGUE

In the earlypart of Christmas Eve night, Zorro looked up at the stars. The air was crisp and clean, and he wrestled with that blurred and disjointed memory since he’d gotten out of the Philippines. It must have been a morphine-induced hallucination because he was sure he had seen Dr. Everly Quinn up close and personal, her sweet, beautiful face dipping down until her hot, soft mouth had connected with his lips.

But that wasloco. She couldn’t stand him. Every moment he’d clashed with her in Niger, it seemed that she got even more hostile.

No. It had to have been his imagination.

He thought about the woman a lot, knowing that it was a study in futility. She was broken by her husband’s death at the hands of special operators, and he was the last man on earth she would ever consider kissing.

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