Only in My Arms Read Online Free PDF Page A

you have to return to the Fort?" she asked.
    "I'm not going back to Fort Apache. I have a new assignment."
    "Here in the East?"
    "No." Was that disappointment he glimpsed? Relief? "In the Southwest Territory."
    "You're regular Army?"
    In Ryder's opinion there was nothing regular about the Army. "More or less," he said. "I scout for them."
    Mary Francis Dennehy's laughter was not for the fainthearted. It exploded from her like a burst of Gatling gunfire. It was loud and raucous, yet wonderfully lively and infectious. The features that could be solemn and serene under the most trying circumstances became animated and mobile. Her eyes crinkled, her nose wrinkled, her generous mouth split widely, and she flushed from the hollow of her throat to her scalp. Her family appreciated it. Little Sisters of the Poor made allowances for it. Mother Superior suffered it. And Bishop Colden prayed it would never happen during his mass.
    Ryder McKay took a step backward and stared mutely.
    "Oh," she said, trying to catch her breath. "Oh, I'm sorry. No, I'm not. Not really. Oh." Mary felt another burst of laughter rising in her, and she fought to stifle it. Brushing at the tears that had gathered at the corners of her luminous eyes, she held her breath as if she had hiccups. "But it's so funny, don't you think? You... an Army scout... lost on your way to... to..."
    "To Walker's," he finished without any hint of humor. "It was amusing when I realized it. It's humiliating when you do."
    That cut her laughter short. "Oh, I didn't mean..." Her voice trailed off when she saw his eyes were not so sober as they had been a moment earlier. He was teasing her, she realized. She dabbed at her eyes again. "I wouldn't mention this to anyone," she said.
    "I think I said that earlier," he reminded her.
    "So you did." She picked up a dishtowel, but he took it out of her hands and dried things himself. She leaned against the sink and watched him and wondered why he was here now, why he had lost his way, and what it meant. "There's a sign at the fork in the road," she told him. "Walker's place is clearly marked."
    "There was no sign," Ryder said.
    Yes, she thought, there was a sign, but it was one meant for her, not for Ryder McKay.
    * * *
    It was after midnight when Mary left the summerhouse and retraced her steps back to the pool. The night was cloudless.
    Star shine and a first quarter moonlighted her path. Mary hadn't even considered carrying a lantern. She had found her way unerringly to the pool on much darker nights. This evening presented no problem.
    Wearing only her white cotton shift, she was like a wraith as she crossed the field of wildflowers. She padded silently where the grasses had been beaten down. The earth was cool on her bare feet as she wended her way over the hillside, and in the forest, the bed of fallen pine needles was soft. At the edge of the clearing, she paused as she had on so many occasions, as she had earlier this morning. This place was a sanctuary to her, a place of peace and worship, and she gave thanks for it now.
    Stepping forward to the natural stone stairway, Mary pushed the wide straps of her shift to each side of her shoulders and let the fabric glide against her skin like a caress. She stepped out of the puddle of material and unhesitatingly launched herself into the pool.
    From his perch on the far side of the water hole Ryder McKay watched the graceful, supple arc of Mary's body as it slid almost soundlessly into the inky depths. He should leave, he told himself, because she valued this place for its solitude. For the second time he was the trespasser, and for the second time he had failed to make his presence known. The thought came to him again that he should leave, but Mary surfaced then and raised her arms, stretching, and moonlight limned the slender length of them, and Ryder stopped thinking about what he should do and considered instead what he would do.
    * * *
    Mary turned on her back and floated with little