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“Let’s go!” Nikki, skirt bunched around her thighs, nudged her heels into the mare’s dappled flanks. The little gray darted forward, galloping up the rocky path leading to the mission. Short, dark legs lengthened stride and the mare’s ears flattened against her head. In the blur that was her vision, Nikki saw tall grass and wildflowers bend as the breeze over the ocean blew inland, carrying ominous clouds and oppressive heat. They rimmed the dark forest where, in her nightmares, she’d been chased in a life-anddeath race for…what?
Nikki glanced at the gray sky nervously. Dressed in a skirt and a T-shirt, she wasn’t ready for a tropical storm. Besides, she had to work fast. Before Trent caught up with her.
Renting the horse hadn’t been easy. A driver of one of the horse-drawn carriages had told her of a man who had horses that could be leased for the day, but Nikki’s halting Spanish, her half-healed face and the desperation in her tone had made the owner cautious. Only after paying him extra did she wind up with the spunky little mare.
“Don’t worry about it,” she told herself. But she felt anxious, partly because of the storm brewing, partly because she was deceiving Trent again and partly because, ever since leaving the hotel, she’d had the uncanny feeling that she was being followed. “Oh, stop being a ninny!” It was just the smell of the storm and the fact that her nerves were strung tight as piano wire. Nothing else.
Ignoring the pain that was beginning to throb in her ankle, she ducked her head closer to the horse’s neck, smelling the scent of animal sweat and hearing the gray’s breathing as she struggled uphill.
“We’re almost there,” Nikki said, hoping to encourage the horse. The wind in her hair and the pounding of hoofs against the gravel-strewn path reminded her of another time, another ride deep in the closed recesses of her mind. She was sure she had ridden often; the leather reins felt right in her hands. Instinctively she moved with the mare, anticipating subtle changes in the horse’s gait, but she couldn’t remember a single instance when she’d ridden.
It’ll come, she told herself, frustrated that she couldn’t control the timing of her memories. As they rounded a curve, the mission came into view, the once-white walls crumbling and gray in ruin.
The path veered closer to the edge of the cliff.
Nikki’s heart nearly stopped and she drew back on the reins, yanking hard, causing the horse to shake her head and slide. “Whoa, girl, it’s all right,” Nikki said, as much to convince herself as the game little mare. Prancing and sidestepping, the gray snorted as she dismounted. Nikki could barely breathe, and the sound of the surf, pounding against rocks and sand hundreds of feet below, seemed to echo through her brain.
Fear, winter-cold and numbing, clutched her heart, but she made her way closer to the edge. Her throat felt dry and raw, her fingers twined in the leather straps of the reins as she inched toward the precipice and looked beyond the earth. Oh, Lord! Her heart plummeted as if to the angry depths below. Jagged black rocks pierced the swirling aquamarine water. Foam and spray swirled around the shore.
The nightmare seemed to close in around her. She felt herself falling over the side, and the edge of her vision seemed to grow dark. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted and she glanced swiftly over her shoulder, certain that she would see someone hidden in the shadows of the forest’s growth, eyes hot as he spied upon her. Goose bumps stood on her flesh. For most of the day she’d felt she’d been followed but had never seen anyone tracing her tracks. Now, standing alone on the very ridge from which she’d been pushed, she felt alone and filled with a dread she couldn’t name.
She turned back to the ocean. A flock of birds gathered in rookeries on the uppermost points of the rocks suddenly rose in a startled, frantic cloud toward the ominous sky. Rubbing her arms, Nikki tried to remember the birds. In all of her nightmares, the noisy flock hadn’t existed. “Come on, Nikki, think!” she muttered under her breath in utter frustration. Why couldn’t she call up anything, any damned thing? She kicked a stone in frustration and watched the pebble tumble over the cliff.
The image in her mind switched suddenly. With bloodchilling certainty, she remembered the feel of a harsh hand upon her shoulder, the reeling blow that had pitched her forward, over the edge—
“Nikki!”
She shrieked, nearly jumping out of her skin. The horse snorted, starting to rear, but Nikki held on to the reins and whirled around to find Trent, astride a sorrel gelding, emerging from the thick copse of trees. So he’d been following her! No wonder she’d been on edge. Steeling herself for another one of his lectures on going out alone, she watched as the sorrel raced up the hillside.
Trent moved with the horse, as if he’d ridden for years. His black hair was wild in the wind, his face tanned and harsh, his shirttails flapping. His eyes were covered with aviator glasses but his expression was severe. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he wasn’t pleased.
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He leaped off as the gelding slid to a stop, and Nikki’s already thudding heart accelerated.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, advancing on her.
“What the hell are you doing here? You nearly killed me, sneaking up on me like that and shouting my name!”
“I thought you might jump.”
“Are you crazy?” she demanded, her fury seeping a little as she saw, behind his colored glasses, the fear in his gaze. She inched back from the edge and breathed in a deep, calming breath. Tossing her hair from her eyes, she reminded him, “I told you I wanted to come back here.”
“And I said—”
“I know what you commanded,” she said, poking an angry finger at his chest. Her horse, pulled by the bridle, followed her. “But I don’t take orders from you or anyone else.”
“You tried to sneak off behind my back!” He glowered down at her but she refused to be intimidated.
“That’s right! Because you wouldn’t bring me up here yourself.” All her anger reignited in a blast of fury. “I’m tired of you telling me what to do for my own good. And I’m sick to death of lying around trying to piece together my life. If we’re married, and I’m not saying I believe that we are, then you’d better get one thing straight, McKenzie, I’m not the kind of woman who wants to be coddled, or treated like a fragile doll, or commanded around like a slave!”
He stared at her, the wind moving his hair, his eyes hidden by the shaded lenses of his glasses, his mouth set in a thin, unbending line. In faded jeans, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the tails flapping freely, he looked sexy and unpredictable and mysterious. Tanned and proud, he glared down at her, and Nikki didn’t know what to expect.
“What if you would have hurt yourself?”
“I didn’t. No thanks to you.”
