Kitabı oku: «Tucker's Claim», sayfa 2
“Not tonight.”
“Good.”
“Thee are holding me too closely.”
She might be protesting, but he noticed she wasn’t stepping away.
Would thee be willing?
He was more than willing to give her anything she wanted for whatever reason. A man like him wasn’t one for passing up golden opportunities.
“Your husband let you lead when you danced?”
She shook her head. “No, he was like thee. He liked to be in charge.”
At least she had one thing right. He was a man who led. “Then you won’t have trouble following me.”
Her head tipped back. Her eyes were very dark in the shadow of his hold, mysterious with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. “No, I don’t think I will.”
The soft huskiness underlying the statement increased the fire that just being near her ignited. “Good.”
He led her into the first steps of the three-count dance. She followed easily. Her free hand slid up his chest to settle on his shoulder and her head snuggled against him. She was as graceful a dancer as she was in everything else, following him easily under the stars. And he came to a decision. This kind of pretending could be good. “I guess you dance after all.”
“What made thee think I didn’t?”
He smiled at the softness of her tone, as if she, too, didn’t want to break the quiet of the moment. “You seem awfully religious.”
“Being a Quaker does not mean I abandon joy.”
Her hips brushed his as he led her through a turn. His cock jerked as if her fingers had closed around it. Damn, she made him ache like a green boy.
“Glad to hear it.”
Chuckling, she squeezed his hand. “I imagine thee are.”
He wanted to close his eyes, as she had, and wallow in the moment, take the pretense to another level. Take advantage of her inebriation. It would be so easy. She was making it easy, but he remembered the gentleness of her touch on his arm when she’d tended him, the softness she gave him so easily, and knew he wouldn’t do it. Sally’s reputation was a very fragile thing. Nurses weren’t held in high regard, often being considered little better than prostitutes. Being seen dancing with him would cost her everything. He’d give her this moment, but he’d make sure it didn’t come back to haunt her.
Sally’s fingers shifted on his shoulder, moving across, following the line of muscle, testing his strength. His hands did a little testing of their own. The right opened across the small of her back, easily spanning the distance from side to side. She was a very slenderly built woman, to the point that it was hard to believe a body this delicate could house such a backbone of steel.
Her hands slid back up over his biceps to curve over his shoulders.
“Thee are a very strong man.”
It came out more of a sigh.
“You are a very beautiful woman.”
As she shook her head, the citrus scent of her shampoo teased his senses. “I’m not, but it is very nice of thee to say so.”
He debated arguing the point, but there were better ways than words to convince a woman of her beauty, and he’d much rather spend his time indulging them. He led her through another turn, pulling her against him so the press of her hips to the hardness of his cock was more than a brush. More of a lure. Fire raced up his backbone as Sally sighed and relaxed against him, prolonging the moment.
“Thee are also very light on thy feet.”
“It comes in handy in my profession.”
She stiffened. She’d never made any secret that she hated what he did. He had never made it any secret that her dislike didn’t change anything. “Thee will not speak of such things tonight.”
“You think that will make them go away?”
“No, but if we do not speak of them for tonight, they cannot exist.”
“Interesting way to look at things.”
“There is no knowing the future, so I have decided there’s value in enjoying the now.”
The theory coincided with his own. Except for their opposing views on the necessity for violence, he and Sally were often on the same side of an argument. Testing her, he led her through some intricate steps. She had no trouble following them. If she could follow those steps, she was aware enough to make a decision, and if Sally was ready to take a lover, he wanted to be first in line. He finished in a series of turns, pulling her tightly against him, forcing her with pressure in the small of her back to arch away, until she braced her hands against his chest and looked up at him.
“And now is tonight?”
Her lips parted, and he could see the hint of her teeth, the flick of her tongue. Lust shot deep.
“Yes.”
He spun them one last time, before leaning in. “Then let me help you with the enjoying.”
Chapter 2
Kissing Sally was as natural as breathing. Tucker bent and she lifted, participating in the discovery as if she were as hungry for the taste of him as he was for her, her lips already parted when they met his. Soft, demanding with feminine hope. She didn’t have to worry. He wouldn’t let her down in bed. Supporting her with his hand in the small of her back, he arched her closer, not immediately taking advantage of her parted lips, savoring the anticipation, raising it with light nips and easy busses. Grunting as the fire gathered deep inside, built, flashed outward in a near crippling release of pleasure.
“Ah, damn, pretty thing, I knew you’d be like this.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulder, gripping tightly as the shock went through her. No shy miss here, just an open, honest woman very sure of what she wanted, which was good because he’d never been so vividly aware of a woman, the press of her nipples against his chest, the soft graze of her hips, the sweet relaxation of her body against his…Never been so vividly aware of his own senses through a kiss to the point that he could feel his blood surging through his veins, feel her breath whispering over his skin as she relaxed against him with the soft sigh of surrender he’d been imagining for the past six months. Her lips were soft, her muscles taut as she rose up on tiptoe, stoking the fire between them. She pulled back. He allowed it, barely.
There was a touch of wonder in her expression. “Thee kiss like an angel.”
He caught the words in his mouth, holding them, irrationally making more of them than was wise before letting them go and falling into the game, the seduction. Brushing a few strands of hair away from her temple, he smiled as if he weren’t so aroused that he was in danger of simply lifting her, unbuttoning his pants, finding the wet heat of her through the slit in her pantaloons and thrusting deep. “You should see what my devil can do.”
“An angel, a devil, a man and a woman. Our bed is going to be crowded tonight.”
Laughter caught him by surprise, escaping before he could muffle it. “I suppose we could kick a couple out.”
“Good, because I want only thee.”
For tonight. As a young man he’d been slow to hear that silent qualification, but he’d soon learned the reality of this exchange. And the benefits of giving a woman what she wanted. Pretty much, his size and muscle, when combined with the forbidden of his ancestry, meant that no matter what town he landed in, his bed was never empty unless he wanted it to be. Since he’d landed in Lindos for the first time a year ago, he’d slept alone because the only woman he wanted was grieving, but now it looked like his luck was turning. Satisfaction spread right along with his smile. “Good.”
Sally Mae blinked, reached up and touched the corner of his mouth. “Thee are smiling.”
The tenderness, when he expected passion, threw him off balance.
“You’ve seen me smile before.”
She shook her head, leaning back. He liked the way she trusted he’d support her almost as much as he liked the gentle brush of her fingertips over the corner of his lips. “Not a true smile.”
“I’ve got you in my arms with the night in front of me. That’s a lot to be happy about.”
“Will thee think badly of me if I admit I’m smiling for the same reason?”
He pressed experimentally with his fingertips. She responded by snuggling closer, her breath catching as she felt the extent of his desire. “If I say yes, will you try harder to please me?”
“I would be more likely to find a man less persnickety.”
“In that case, absolutely not.”
The softening of her smile let him know she understood his teasing. “Ah, good, because I have my heart set on thee.”
Inside, the music died off. People would be coming out soon to catch a breath of air. They couldn’t stay here.
“What are thee thinking?”
“Where we can go for a little privacy.”
“Thee do not have this all planned?”
The question hit him on a raw spot he had thought long since scabbed over. His mother being Indian didn’t make him an amoral tomcat with nothing better to do than plan the next skirt to lift. “I’ve been busy.”
Trying to find Desi’s sister, Ari, before her uncle’s henchman did. Trying to keep Sam and Bella alive against the outlaws that wanted Sam dead and Bella’s inheritance in their pockets. Trying to keep his hands off Sally Mae.
Sally winced and sighed, her palms pressing against his chest, stroking the apology into his skin. Her fingers tangled in the cord around his neck, sliding down to nudge the bullet he always wore around his neck as a reminder of what happened to those who were weak. “Thee should know I’m not good at this.”
He pulled them away, not liking the thought of her tainted by the memories it harbored. “What exactly is this?”
“This is supposed to be me seducing thee.” She slanted him a look from under her lashes. “I’ve been led to believe it doesn’t take much.”
“To seduce an Indian?”
This time, she slapped his shoulder, the small, painless violence just arousing him more. Pushing back, she glared at him. His hand in the small of her back kept her from putting any real distance between them, but it didn’t keep her from trying. A little of his resentment faded as he quelled the rebellion by lifting her just a bit so her struggles snuggled the ridge of his cock into the V of her thighs. On a sharp gasp, she went utterly still. But she didn’t back down.
“Any man.”
“Your momma tell you that?”
“It was more of a warning, to keep me safe from the base desires of men.”
“And yet, here you are, blatantly tempting my baser self.”
She frowned. “Who wants to aggravate me.”
“Who wants you very much,” he corrected, sliding his hands up her back.
“I’m not so sure I want thee anymore.”
The little liar. The truth was in the way she cuddled against him and the way her eyes watched his lips shape around the words as if imagining other things. “Even if I promise to be very easy to seduce?”
Her fingers dug into his shoulder as he pressed against her in little pulses. “How easy?”
Trailing his fingers down her cheek, over the slight ledge of her shoulder to her chest, he confessed, “Very.”
Biting her lip, she continued to hold still as he found and followed the strap of her camisole beneath her dress. “I could meet thee in the barn.”
The confession came out in a breathless rush that touched his tender side and reminded him she was new to this, likely had never been with anyone but the good doctor. That being the case, this was a very big step for her. The least he could do was make it easy. As his finger hit the bodice of the hidden camisole, he kissed her lips for no reason other than that it had been fifteen seconds since the last time he’d placed his mouth on hers, fifteen seconds since he’d taken her breath as his. Fifteen seconds since he’d felt that particular arc of pleasure go through him. It was no different this time. Pleasure arced in a rich unfurling. And when its journey culminated its race down his spine, settling in his balls, pulling them up tight, it was almost like coming home. This time, when their lips parted, he couldn’t manage easy. His impatience bit into his drawl, dragging it down to a rough growl.
“The barn’s too conspicuous.”
She blinked, not with him yet. Her tongue ran over her lips. “I can sneak.”
As if sneaking was an option. “The rumors will start before you get to the rose garden.”
His staying in her barn when he was in town hadn’t raised suspicions when her husband was alive, but now that she was widowed, a hostile edge had invaded his dealings with some of the town’s more ornery citizens. Pretty much everyone but Sally Mae held his motives in suspicion. And as the days passed, that suspicion was growing.
She sighed and flicked her fingers in dismissal. “Some people lead very boring lives. They seek something to talk about.”
She’d obviously never been on the wrong side of community opinion, otherwise she’d know how much other people’s assumptions could ruin a life. He drew his thumb across the remnants of their kiss, the soft, moist flesh clinging to his calluses.
“Bored people could make life very difficult for you.”
“If I worried about how others see my choices, my life would be equally boring.”
He kind of liked the idea of her life being boring. Predictable. Safe.
“Thankfully, the sacrifice won’t be necessary.” He let her slide down, his breath hissing between his teeth as her stomach slid along his cock. “The moon’s bright enough. I’m thinking that I could meet you down by the pond.”
She ran her hand up his back. “Outside?”
She didn’t sound put off by the idea. He hadn’t really expected her to be. In his experience, being taken outdoors was part of what women expected when they invited him to their bed. “Yes.”
Her fingers pressed against his nape in a fleet kiss of excitement. “I’ll have to take my leave and then stop by the house. I will meet thee in an hour.”
An hour was too damn long. As the only thing he could figure she needed from the house was a blanket, he offered. “I can take the quilt off my bed.”
She stepped back, out of his arms. “Not those kind of things.”
He had a gnawing urge to drag her back. “Care to explain?”
She sighed. “Thee must not take this wrong, but I do not wish to become with child.”
He wasn’t in any particular hurry to be a father, though a part of him couldn’t resist toying with the thought of a child. A little bit of him to go on in the future. He wouldn’t have one, of course. Caught between the Indian world he’d never known and the white world that wouldn’t accept him, there was no place for him, any more than there’d be a place for a child who would no doubt bear his skin color. For him, there were just these stolen moments with different women with no forever on the back end.
“You’ve got a way of stopping that?”
“Yes. Jonah taught me.”
“It works?”
“We were married six years and I do not have a child.”
She sounded neither happy nor sad when she said that, which just struck him as wrong. A woman like Sally Mae, who cared for everyone, would have strong maternal urges. Yet she didn’t have children because her husband had taught her how to avoid it.
Sally’s fingers brushed his, drawing his gaze. “This bothers thee?”
He smiled automatically. “Not a bit.”
She didn’t smile back.
“I do not want thee to take offense, but…” She licked her lips. “I must ask…”
No doubt she wanted to caution him to be gentle. Women always seemed obligated to ask that, as if he weren’t aware of his size and the harm he could do. “What?”
“It occurs to me that a man like thee might already have a woman.”
Shit. He’d rather she’d ask him to be gentle than to be insulting him. “If I did, I wouldn’t be out here kissing you.”
She shook her head, causing moonlight to dance off the crown of braids wrapped around her head as the strings to her white cap danced about her shoulders. He wanted to pull those hairpins out so that heavy swathe of hair spilled like sunlight, brightening the darkness around them.
“I don’t mean to insult thee. It’s just not my way to cause another pain.”
He knew that about her, but it annoyed the hell out of him that she didn’t know the same about him. Then again, why should she? To her, he was a means to an end. “Then you can stop worrying. No one’s expecting me anywhere.”
Except Ari, Caine’s sister-in-law, either dead or held prisoner somewhere out there. But until he received a response to his latest query, he didn’t have a lead to follow so he had no choice other than to stay put.
Sally Mae reached up, cuddling the softness of her breasts into the hardness of his chest. His hand fell naturally to the small of her back, supporting her. There were definitely compensations to staying put. “Except me.”
“Except you.”
He shook his head, feeling her shiver when the ends of his hair f licked across her forearms as her fingers linked behind his neck. She was very sensitive to him. “I’ll be waiting for you at the woods straight off the back door.”
“But what if someone—”
He put his fingers over her lips. “No one’s going to see me unless I want to be seen, but you’re not to walk in the woods at night by yourself.”
“I have done it many times. Two nights ago, in fact.”
“I know.”
She frowned. “Thee watched?”
“I kept guard.”
Her smile caressed his fingertips. “Thee always watch over me.”
“I owe you.”
She went still against him again.
“What?”
Her hands slid down to his shoulders. “Thee are not planning on being with me tonight because thee feel obligated?”
Only a woman could come to that conclusion. “Moonbeam, I’m not that nice a guy.”
The mischief came back to her smile. “Good.”
It was foolish. Someone could come out any second, and the one thing he never was, was foolish. But when Sally looked at him like that—part seductress, part challenge—he lost all sense of civilization. Yanking her into his arms, he kissed her with all the hunger she roused—hard enough to bruise, hard enough to leave an impression. And when he let her go, she swayed, her gray eyes glazed over with the same passion tearing through him. Hell, when he finally got her to himself, they were going to set the grass on fire.
Touching his finger to the kiss-swollen center of her bottom lip, he drew it away from her teeth, revealing the moist inner lining. He licked his lips, savoring her taste. Tonight he’d know what she tasted like all over. Tucking his finger under her chin, he lifted her face to his.
“Don’t make me wait too long.”
Sally stood in front of her mirror, studying her reflection. Tucker McCade was waiting for her out in the woods. The illicit thrill that went through her was very much out of place, but exciting. Staring at the mirror, she wondered what he saw in her. She was a plain woman with plain ways, wearing a plain dress. She had nothing frilly under her dress, such as the saloon girls wore to entice a man. No fancy scents to please his senses. She was just Sally Mae Schermerhorn, widow of Jonah Schermerhorn, mother to none, daughter to none. A woman who’d come west in the hope of finding the sense of belonging that she’d never had, even amidst the accepting arms of the people who had taken her in when she was ten. Even in the arms of her husband.
She touched the demure white cap she always wore over her coronet of braids. Nothing like what was worn by the other women Tucker had known, she was sure. Tucker, with his big bones, big muscles and bold face with the aggressive slash of his cheekbones beneath his incredible silver eyes was a harshly exotic, handsome man. There was nowhere he went that women’s eyes didn’t follow. A dart of insecurity pierced her anticipation. Which meant he could have his pick.
She pulled the cap off slowly, watching in the mirror as it revealed the tightly pinned braids. Suddenly she hated the hairstyle and all it represented. Conformity. Control. Acceptance. Tonight, she wanted to be the woman that Tucker imagined. Someone as fanciful as a moonbeam. She studied the cap, her image. Tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted her. And tonight she wanted to be more than plain Sally Mae. Tonight she wanted to drown in the attraction between them and just bury the pain that festered inside beneath some sort of joy. Since that horrible night when the sheriff had brought her Jonah’s bloody body, along with his last words, she’d been silently screaming. She didn’t want to be silent anymore, locked in her mind with her screams. And tonight she didn’t have to be. Tonight she could give Tucker what he wanted and take a little for herself. No promises would be made. No one would be hurt. Just two bodies coming together to satisfy separate needs. And when it was over, she’d go back to her silence and plain ways and Tucker would go about his wild ones. There was no worry that he would gossip. The added benefit of taking a man with Indian blood as her lover was that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—say a word for fear of being strung up. She didn’t personally care about his heritage. God created all men and women equally, but societal issues did offer her that guarantee.
Another pause as she considered how selfish she was being, using a man to relieve pain. But then she remembered the look in Tucker’s eyes as he’d stood in the back of the cemetery on one of her recent visits. He had stalked over the rise like some wild cougar, his torn-off shirtsleeves and leather vest showcasing his massive chest and powerful muscles, giving him a primitive intimidation, making everyone and everything else seem insignificant. The ever-present bullet hanging on the leather thong around his neck completed the image of a cold, lethal predator. Until his silver gaze met hers. There hadn’t been any sympathy there. No pity. But as she stared into his eyes, understanding arced across the distance between them, and she saw the pain he, too, felt.
It would just be one other thing they had in common—an understanding of how pain too great to be borne had to be hidden, because to let it loose would destroy everything they were. At first, that had made her uncomfortable, but as the months passed there was comfort in knowing that her secret was shared. And now their relationship was going forward, down a path that had a predestined feel to it. An opening, Friends called it. An opportunity, presented by God, to grow.
Sighing, she put the cap on the polished vanity top.
She was going to take a lover. A man not of her race, not of her beliefs. A man who, supposedly, was built of nothing but violence and darkness. A man who had such bright, shining moments of goodness that it was very hard to reconcile his reputation with what she knew. A man with whom, tonight, she would share more secrets. Intimate ones in a step she’d accepted was meant to be. She wasn’t sure what God had planned for either of them, but tonight was right. Others might point a finger if they found out, but the same way she’d known since she was ten that Jonah was to be her husband, she knew Tucker was what she needed tonight.
The knowledge didn’t make her any less nervous. She had an incredible urge to slap the cap back onto her head, to go back into hiding, to let the pain grow until it got too big to fight anymore. To be the coward no one ever let her be. Instead, she unbuttoned her dress and quickly divested herself of her corset. It didn’t seem right to go to a tryst wearing one. She didn’t look in the mirror as she tossed it on the bed and rebuttoned the fastenings.
Running her hands over her stomach, she sighed. It felt strange to feel her flesh beneath her dress. Wearing a corset always made her feel more in charge, as if she had a second backbone to see her through when her own failed, but tonight, it was just her. Tucker had better appreciate it.
A glance at the clock on the wall showed more than an hour had passed since Tucker had left.
Don’t make me wait too long.
Or what? She hadn’t asked what, but nothing her imagination came up with made her feel better. He’d leave? She didn’t want that. He’d come get her? Even worse. The whole reason she was late was because that cantankerous, lecherous Lyle—her current patient—had proved demanding, wanting food and making insinuations while she’d served it. Thank goodness, by tomorrow he’d be up and about and gone. He made her nervous with his sly glances and free ways. While it was her duty to care for the sick, there were some patients she debated the wisdom of saving. Lyle was one.
Immediately, she felt guilty. All men were capable of change. The prompting came from within and there was every chance this last brush with a knife had opened Lyle’s heart. If Jonah was here it wouldn’t be so hard to believe that. She likely wouldn’t have slipped in the first place. Jonah had believed very strongly in God’s power to induce change.
Unlike her. She glanced at her reflection again, noting the high color in her cheeks. The almost wicked anticipation in her eyes. The utterly proper braids above. She reached up and changed her mind halfway to her destination. She couldn’t walk out the door with her hair down. It was too brazen, too bold. It would leave her feeling naked.
Sally knew there was a wildness in her that could match the wildness in Tucker, but knowing it and experiencing it were two different things. To complicate matters, she had a tendency to be shy. If she got mad, that fell by the wayside, but she didn’t intend to be mad tonight. Raking her teeth across her lips to give them a bit more fullness and color, she turned away from the mirror. She would have to do as she was. Jonah had always enjoyed taking her hair down for her. Maybe Tucker would enjoy it, too. Smoothing her skirts, she headed down the stairs and into the sweetness of the night.
Tucker was waiting for her right where she expected. As soon as she stepped into the shadows of the trees, his hand reached out and snagged her arm, pulling her into him.
“You’re late,” he growled as his other hand cupped her head, tilting her head back. Before she could answer, his mouth was on hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise as his tongue plunged past her lips, all the wildness she’d ever sensed in him pouring over her in a shocking bath of fire.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, digging her nails into his nape, she let his passion sweep her up. Pulling him to her, opening her mouth wider, she begged for more as he made a rumbling noise in his chest. A growl? Had he really growled? She shivered with the possibility as he lifted her and walked her back until her shoulder blades came up against a tree. His chest came down against hers, holding her prisoner as his mouth continued to ravish hers.
She’d never been wanted like this. Never had a man come at her like he’d starve if he didn’t have all she had to give as fast as he could get it. It was surprisingly erotic. His thigh pushed between her legs as her knee came up and met the barrier of the fabric of her skirt. She strained forward. He was so close, so close…
That low rumble surrounded her again. His big hands left her back and reached down. His lips bit at hers. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Any less and I’d be naked,” she moaned as he worked his knee higher so it just grazed her center. Three yanks on the yards of fabric and he had her right leg free. She wrapped it around his calf, which was as high as she could reach. Another rumble, this one bit off in the middle by frustration. “What the hell’s wrong with naked?”
There was no way that he could do anything with her skirts like this, but she could feel how hungry he was, how fevered with need. Because of her. Power and wonder joined desire. “Someone would see.”
“Who cares?”
“Thee would.” She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.
Fabric ripped and his hands closed over her thigh. Heat seared through her skin. “Yes, I would.” He squeezed. “Only I get to see you like this.”
“Thee can’t see anything.”
This time the rumble was anticipation. “Yet.”
Yet. Such a powerful word. She shuddered. Bark rasped against her back as he shifted his grip. As if she weighed nothing, he lifted her higher, snuggled her tighter. The muscles of his thighs flexed against hers. He was so different from her. Pure muscle and temptation.
He bent his head. There was no evading his mouth. No wanting to. She loved the way he kissed. The way he tasted. She wanted to taste him more intimately. To feel all that muscle flex at her command. She pressed against his shoulder in a silent request.
He shook his head, his hair tickling the sides of her neck. His hat brim shadowed her face as his denial grated into her mouth. “No.”
“Yes.” She pressed harder. “Let me go.”
For a second she didn’t think Tucker heard, but then his chest heaved against hers and he stepped back, his hands settling on the tree beside her head. Still keeping her within the circle of his arms. His mouth was set in a straight line. Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes slitted. A shiver of awareness swept over her skin. This wasn’t the man she knew. This was the man outlaws feared and women desired. He looked like he’d kill to have her back in his arms. Oh, she liked that.
His mouth twisted. “I’m sorry.”
Licking her lips, she caught the lingering salt of his kiss. “For what?”
His hands drew up into fists, scraping across the rough bark. “I usually save the rough stuff for a little later in the game.”
It took her a minute to understand his meaning. He thought she was afraid? The harsh line of his jaw drew her touch. His skin was smooth without the constant roughness of impending beard that her husband had had. Did Indians not have facial hair? “I like that thee want me like this.”
His teeth closed over the tip of her finger. “Good, because I feel like I’m about to go off like a firecracker.”
She slid down the tree, the bark pulling at her hair, smiling when his hand automatically came between her head and the tree, protecting her even as his breath came in a hard sigh. “Then maybe we should do something to ease the worst of thy hunger.”
