I’ll take you out to see Altair.”
Dany straightened up, her eyes giving away the excitement she felt. “I would like to rest. But I’m dying to see Altair.…”
“He can wait two more hours. Now get changed into something more comfortable and take a nap.”
“Is that an order?”
“No, just a strong suggestion.”
Dany tossed her head, laughing. “It’s good advice. I’ll see you later, Sam.”
He dipped his head and opened the door. “Look, if you need anything, just come on in. I’m going to be slaving over some paperwork that’s built up over the last week.”
* * *
Dany unpacked one suitcase, leaving the others sitting where the ranch hands had placed them. She hung up her black silk robe and tucked her toiletry articles in the bathroom. Changing into a pair of russet-colored jodhpurs and a yellow blouse, she loosened her ebony hair, allowing it to flow freely across her shoulders. The queen-size bed looked inviting, and against her better judgment, she lay down on it, intent on resting about twenty minutes before viewing the stallion.
New sounds, sounds of cattle lowing plaintively and of horses whickering in friendly fashion, lulled her into a restful state. She had not meant to sleep, but the sun was warm against her back as she curled up on the huge expanse of the bed, and weeks of emotional exhaustion were placed into limbo.
* * *
Danielle moaned, hearing herself cry out. “No!” she screamed. The voice, her voice, reverberated into her restless, sleeping state, and she choked off another cry. In the dream, she saw herself transformed into a horse who was being whipped cruelly by the handler. The horse struggled, trying to escape the biting flick of the whip that Jean had in his hand. Pain seared her heart and she moaned. Jean was yelling, driving her back into a corner. She was trying to escape the whip and the pain.
“Dany?” a new voice called. The husky, warm voice sliced again into the anguish of the nightmare. She whimpered, feeling the caress of a man’s hand against her arm, moving up across her shoulder in a caring fashion. “Dany, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
She gasped, blinking open her eyes. Sam Reese sat on the edge of the bed leaning across, his hand resting on her shoulder. Tearstains glistened against her cheeks, and he reached over, touching her skin with his fingers, making an awkward attempt to remove the wetness.
“You’re all right, lady,” he soothed. “You were crying out and I heard you next door. Just take it easy. Everything is going to be fine.”
The rough caress of his fingers against her face sent a new, aching sensation through her tense body. The musky scent of his masculine body invaded her nostrils, and her heart pounded without restraint. She was captured by the tenderness of his expression, his eyes broadcasting genuine concern. Dany shivered, confused by his care and affection. She pushed his hand away, struggling to sit up and get away from his powerful male body.
“I’m all right,” she gulped, rubbing her face. Her hair fell in blue black sheets about her pale features.
Sam nodded, watching her in silence for long moments. He caressed the crown of her head, his hand barely skimming the surface of her hair. “I was right,” he murmured softly, “you have lovely hair, Dany. You ought to wear it down more often. Makes you look like a princess.” A bashful smile pulled one corner of his mouth, and he hesitantly drew his hand away, resting it against his thigh.
It took a few moments to retrieve her senses. The sun was no longer shining and darkness had claimed the day. She was excruciatingly aware of Sam Reese as he sat quietly beside her, making no further attempt to touch her. Finally, she raised her head, meeting his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized in a thick voice.
“What for? We all have bad dreams every once in a while. I’ve put you through a great deal in just a few days time, Dany, and it’s caught up with you.”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t you,” she whispered. “Oh, I’ll admit it’s been hectic and surprising, but that wasn’t it.” She gave a broken, helpless shrug. “Just the past coming back to haunt me again. As usual.”
He pursed his lips, nodding sagely. “You know there’s one sure cure for the past.”
“What’s that?”
“Get involved in the present. Let the past go. It’s dead and gone. You did what you had to do and gave it your best shot.” He forced a weak smile. “Take my word for it, I’ve been there, too.”
Dany chewed on her lower lip, glancing at him. His face was so strong, and yet, an innate gentleness burned in the depth of his slate gray eyes. There was inbred harshness in the lines of his thirty-five-year-old face. The lines which gave his face character had obviously been earned. The furrowed, broad forehead had seen worry, and the creases that fanned from the corner of each eye and the lines around his mouth spoke of laughter, laughter that she wished she could share with him. She gasped at the sudden, unexpected thought, and he must have mistaken her reaction.
“Getting divorced isn’t the end of the world,” he said. “I had my turn at it, too. Tried to put a thoroughbred in a plow horse’s harness, and it just didn’t work.”
Dany smiled tentatively at the expression, watching his eyes cloud with unspoken memories. “I like the way you westerners talk, Sam. You seem to put everything into such simple perspective.”
It was his turn to share a smile, and he clasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Simple but effective,” he agreed, sliding off the bed and standing. “Why don’t you take a bath and gradually get yourself back together? Dinner won’t be for another hour.”
“But what about Altair?”
Sam looked out the window and walked over to the drapes, drawing them closed. “Tomorrow morning is the earliest you’re doing anything. If you’d like, I’ll have Martha send up a tray and you can eat here.”
“That sounds wonderful, Sam. I hope I didn’t ruin any plans you had for dinner.…”
“No. I always eat alone anyway. Besides, your comfort comes first.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness. What time can we go see Altair tomorrow?”
“Whenever you get up. He’s in the stud barn that sits across from the bunkhouse. Chances are, you’ll sleep in tomorrow.”
“I’ve got news for you. Trainers are up around four-thirty with the dawn. If I sleep past six, I’ll be surprised.”
He nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you be for now. Good night, Dany.”
She heard the tenor in his voice, and it made her want to ask him to stay. The loneliness was evident in the look he gave her, and yet, he wasn’t going to force his will upon her. How vastly different from Jean!
After a delicious meal of beef rump roast, potatoes and peas that Martha brought up, Dany took a long, fragrant bath and then slipped back into bed for the night. This time there were no bad dreams. Only an aching remembrance of Sam’s hand on her cheek wiping her tears away.
