Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [37]
He shrugged, his face closed. “My mother died when I was twelve. I guess I still have a father wandering around someplace. I really wouldn't know. I ran away from home when I was fourteen.”
They crested the hill suddenly, and Brenna drew in her breath sharply at the sight that almost physically assaulted her senses. Gone was the gentle terrain with a dramatic abruptness that was overpowering in its impact. The summit fell away to the sea far below in a sheer drop, and there was nothing before them but an endless stretch of sea and sky. At first glance it seemed that the two were one vast seething entity. The storm was moving swiftly now. The churning cobalt of the waves mirrored the ominous force of the clouds, as the quickening wind strived to bind the dichotomy into a tumultuous whole.
“It's magnificent!” Brenna breathed, awestruck, as she moved irresistibly closer to the edge of the cliff in an unconscious desire to become part of the raw, elemental savagery that was swiftly surrounding them.
“It will be on us in a few moments,” Donovan observed. “If you don't want to get half drowned, we should start back right away.”
She shook off his restraining hand and stepped closer to the edge. “I've never seen anything like this,” she murmured ecstatically. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees in the last few minutes, and the wind that stung her face and caused her hair to billow out behind her in a wild banner was almost cold.
Donovan let her go, his eyes narrowed and watchful, but not interfering with the emotional response that the storm had stirred in her.
Suddenly they were enveloped in the mysterious golden twilight that preceded the unleashing of the storm. Donovan felt compelled to issue a final warning, which he already knew would be futile by the rapt fascination on Brenna's face.
He was right. She didn't even look at him as she replied absently, “You go on ahead. I'll be along later.”
His mouth twisted in amused resignation, and leaning casually against a boulder a little distance away from the figure on the headland, he crossed his arms and prepared to wait.
He didn't have to wait long. The golden twilight faded to violet dimness and the distant growling of the thunder became a savage roar as the heavens exploded, and sheets of rain whipped at them with savage fury.
The exultant oneness with nature that Brenna was feeling was magnified rather than diminished by the pouring rain that completely drenched them in a matter of moments. A cold wind tore at her hair and clothes like a ravening animal. She opened her mouth to let the drops caress her lips, and stretched out her arms in supplication and embrace. She was conscious of the smallness and fragility of each separate limb and muscle of her body, and at the same time she felt as strong and powerful as a goddess from Olympus.
She laughed exultantly, glancing at Donovan's watchful face as she tossed back her sodden hair from her face, still holding her arms before her like a high priestess invoking the fury of the storm. “I'm going to live forever, Donovan!” she shouted triumphantly. “Do you hear me? I'm going to live forever!”
There was a tolerant smile on Donovan's face as he levered himself away from the boulder, and lazily crossed to stand beside her. He, too, was soaked, his shirt and trousers plastered to his muscular body like a second skin, his hair rain-darkened to almost black.
He took her elbow and propelled her firmly away from the edge of the cliff. “You're not even going to live till next week, if you catch a chill from this drenching, you crazy woman,” he said roughly. “Your skin is as cold as ice.”
“I'm not cold. I feel wonderful. I feel terrific,” she said giddily. “I've never felt so alive in my life.”
“Yes, I know. You're going to live forever,” he said dryly. “But right now you're going to jog back to the cabin to get your circulation working.”
With a hand on her elbow, he set the pace and they were soon half running, half sliding down the hill. The dirt path was now a muddy quagmire, and it was almost impossible to keep