Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [123]
As she filled the kettle, her eyes took in the rising sun, its rosy light turning the wintry landscape to pinks and purples. So beautiful, the scenery was perfect for a postcard or photograph.
A movement at a distance attracted her eyes. She couldn’t focus upon whatever was up there. Squinting to see, she nearly overfilled the teakettle. Turning off the tap, she set the pot on the electric burner and turned it on. Coming back to the sink, she looked again at the far hill. The hillside was thick with pines and shrouded with heavy snow, the long shadows of dawn cast distorting shapes. Nothing. Just the falling snow. She wasn’t sure what she expected to spot.
“Must be my imagination, Clint. I don’t see anything. Maybe it was a deer. Even a wildcat. There still are a few long The Palisades. He’d make you look small in comparison, which with your girth isn’t an easy thing to do. No one would be out tromping around in this snowstorm, so it was some forest creature.” She frowned. “I don’t think we have bears anymore. I hope not.”
Sipping her tea, Asha went to check the stack of mail on the entry table. Typical bills and junk mail, she quickly sorted through what was important and then dumped the spam into the trashcan. When she looked back at the small tabletop she frowned. The large brown envelope with the signed proxies for Cian was missing. She’d placed it there a couple days ago thinking to mail it the next time they went out.
“Oh bother. I guess I scooped it up with the junk mail, Clint. Cian will kill me.” She squatted and pulled out the stack of magazines, flyers and advertisements. The cat padded over and ‘helped’ her inspect everything. There were two brown envelopes—one from Publishers Central Bureau telling her she’d likely won ten million dollars. Scratching Clint’s head, she laughed. “Joy and celebration . . . The Windmill’s petty cash will be happy.”
Pursing her mouth, she frowned when she failed to find the errant item. Fearful it might’ve slipped inside a magazines or the mailers, she carefully went through them, fluttering pages of the catalogues or unfolding the newspaperstyle Bargain Mart. Nothing.
“Well bugger,” she grumped.
“What are you two doing rummaging through the garbage?” Jago had come into the kitchen barefooted, so she hadn’t heard him until he spoke.
Asha jumped from fright. “Jeez Louise. You scared me out of a year of my life, sneaking up on me like that.”
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, I wasn’t sneaking. You and Clint were too absorbed in playing with the trash.”
With a disgusted sigh of not having found the envelope, she dumped the mess back into the rubbish. Asha glared at the table and then around the room, considering if she’d set it somewhere else and merely thought she’d put it there. “I was searching for the envelope for Cian. Have you seen it? I was sure it was on the entry table.”
He reached down and lifted her by her waist, slowly pulling her up his body. His braced stance was one of pure male dominance, a man wanting his mate. It humbled her. It empowered her. When she was finally standing, his mouth took hers for a long, slow, deep kiss that set her scalp to tingling and her body to ache in a pagan throb. Her breast grew so sensitive, craving his touch. The crowning need made it hard for her even to think.
When he broke the kiss, she nearly panted out, “The envelope? Did you see it?”
The corners of his mouth curved upward into a satyric smile. “Sounds like I didn’t kiss you good enough, lass.”
“Kiss me all you want—after I find that damn envelope. It’s important.”
His eyes glowed hungrily as he parted her silk robe to expose her breasts. Gently, he cupped them, brushing his thumbs back and forth across the stiffening peaks. Lust set free, her body burned, the core of her desire instantly tightening into a hard knot. His