Only 06 - Winter Fire

Sarah, who was still leaning against him to keep from tumbling headfirst into the hole he had been digging. Only a few inches away from him, silver-gray eyes looked back at him, gleaming with amusement over life in general and the present situation in particular.
    How can she still laugh? he asked silently. She saw her family die. Her husband died. She’s poor as a woodenplate. Raiders are all around, just waiting to get their hands on her .
    And she laughs!
    â€œAre you all right?” she asked, breathless from laughter.
    â€œOf course I am.”
    â€œFor a moment you looked like you were in pain.”
    â€œFor a moment you acted like you were crazy,” he retorted. “Laughing like a song dog.”
    â€œWe look silly buried up to our elbows like kids in a sandbox.”
    He couldn’t bear the dancing humor in her eyes. He glanced down at her mouth.
    Her lips were parted with the laughter that still quivered through her.
    The next thing Case knew he was so close to Sarah that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips.
    I shouldn’t do this , he thought.
    But he did it anyway.
    Her laughter died when she felt the sudden heat of his breath against her lips. Then his mouth was over hers, enveloping her in a kiss. Instinctively she stiffened, expecting to be overwhelmed by his much greater strength.
    Instead, he tasted her with a restraint that was astonishing in its leashed intensity.
    An odd sound came from the back of her throat. With the tip of her tongue, she returned the delicate, questing touch.
    The tremor that went through him was felt by both of them. He pulled away with a sharp movement.
    â€œSorry,” he said curtly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
    Puzzled, she simply looked at him with luminous gray eyes.
    â€œDon’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “I just— hell . I just wanted to know what laughter tasted like.”
    Sarah took a quick, soft breath. Something shivered inthe pit of her stomach, a response to his words as much as his kiss.
    â€œSo, what does it taste like?” she asked in a husky voice.
    â€œLike you, what else?” he said roughly.
    â€œI thought it tasted like you.”
    He muttered something under his breath. When he looked at her again, his eyes were as distant as his voice.
    â€œAre you stuck in there or can you pull out your hands?” he asked.
    She looked at him and flinched.
    I hate wanting you. It means not as much of me died as I’d hoped .
    But this time Case didn’t have to say the words aloud. They were in every cold line of his face.
    Her mouth twisted in a curve that was more resigned than humorous. Without saying a word she straightened and pulled her hands free of the rubble, wincing when one chunk of rock scrubbed roughly over her wrist.
    â€œAre you all right?” he asked grudgingly.
    With brisk motions she dusted off her gloves.
    â€œSure. What about you?”
    Without saying anything he yanked out his hands. But he held them together in a peculiar, sheltering way, as though they were painful.
    â€œYou’re hurt!” she cried.
    He shook his head. Holding his hands side by side to form a bowl, he slowly opened his fingers.
    Nestled on his rough leather gloves was an odd, miniature piece of pottery consisting of two mugs joined at the handles. But the cups were too small to have been of any real use.
    â€œIt looks like part of a little girl’s tea set,” Sarah said.
    Case went white.
    â€œTake it away,” he said harshly.
    A single look at his face killed any protest she might have made. She lifted the ancient pottery from his hands.
    He stood abruptly and stalked off with long strides.
    â€œWhere are you going?” she asked.
    â€œTo check on Cricket.”
    â€œHe’s grazing more toward the north side, down near that thick patch of brush.”
    If Case heard, he didn’t change direction. Soon he was out of sight.
    Sarah looked at the tiny double mug and wondered why it had made a grown man flee.

12
    â€œ I t’s a toy,” Conner said, as delighted as a child. “Look. My fingertip fills one mug.”
    Sarah smiled.
    â€œCareful,” she said. “It’s very old.”
    Lola chuckled and admired the joined, tiny black and white mugs resting on Sarah’s palm.
    â€œI haven’t seen anything that cunning since my cousin made me a doll small enough to fit in a duck-egg cradle,” Lola said.