Beyond The Horizon (39 page)

It was nearly dusk when Shannon made the fateful decision to visit Blade’s room immediately to collect his belongings instead of waiting until the next day. She expected to be there and back in less than an hour, long before the Greers missed her.

Chapter Twenty

S
hannon made her way to Blade’s room at the rear of
the smith’s shop. It could be worse, Shannon reflected, and was actually better than some quarters assigned to scouts. Most army scouts were fullblooded Indians or half-breeds like Blade and received little in the way of amenities. Shannon arrived without mishap, passing unnoticed across the parade ground. She was amazed at the hundreds of campfires ringing the fort, and it occurred to her that the Indians could easily wipe out the entire population of the fort and town if they wanted to. It gave Shannon an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This was the first time Shannon had been to Blade’s room, and it looked as if nothing had been disturbed since he left. It was rather small, with a window and door facing the river and another door leading into the main part of the smith’s shop. Her imagination worked overtime as she closed her eyes and sniffed, savoring his special scent that still lingered in the air.

The cot, table, chair, dresser, and stove appeared untouched since Blade had last occupied the room. Shannon spied a deerskin pouch hanging on a hook and took it down, intending to pack it with Blade’s belongings. Piling everything on the cot, she discovered that his possessions consisted only of a change of clothes, another pair of moccasins, a blanket, and an ornate necklace made of hammered silver disks and turquoise. The necklace reminded her so much of Blade that it was like a physical blow to her middle. With the necklace clasped tightly in her hand, she sat on the cot and fondly recalled everything she loved about Blade—every incredibly handsome feature, each deliciously sensuous inch of hard smooth flesh. She remembered the rapture they shared, the love that bonded them for all time, and how very much she needed him.

Time stood still in that small room as darkness descended and Shannon’s fancy led her into a world where she had but to reach out to touch Blade, or call to him and he’d appear at her side. “Blade …” But wishing would not bring him back. If it could, he would have reappeared weeks ago.

Absently Shannon glanced out the window and was startled to see how dark it had grown. She hadn’t bothered to light the lamp, and she could barely see her hand in front of her. She chided herself for lingering overlong with her reminiscences. She should have returned to her room at the Greers’ long ago. Heaving a wistful sigh, she rose from the cot, picked up the deerskin pouch, and had her hand on the doorknob when the sound of voices drifted to her from the livery. The voices were so clear, the speakers could have been standing mere inches away. Shannon paused, knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop but too curious to care. Returning the pouch to the cot and placing her ear to the door, Shannon heard enough to freeze the blood flowing through her veins. She would have recognized that low, hoarse whisper anywhere!

“I can give you guns. As many as you want.”

“We cannot pay in gold as Mad Wolf did.”

From his tone and accent Shannon knew immediately that the second man was an Indian.

“I will trade guns for prime pelts,” the first speaker whispered hoarsely. “You have them, don’t you?”

“We have them. Where are the guns?”

“You will get them soon. They are being brought across the prairie by a trader, hidden in his wagon beneath his other wares. He will take the pelts back East in his wagon and sell them for me. Clive Bailey was but one of many such men working with me.”

Shannon couldn’t believe her ears. At the same time that Red Cloud was at the fort to sign a peace treaty, renegades were bargaining for illegal weapons. Peace efforts were a mockery as long as men continued buying and selling weapons to wage war against one another. Just the thought that she was so close to learning the identity of Major Vance’s killer sent a tremor of emotion racing down Shannon’s spine. Without a care for her personal safety, Shannon eased open the door, staring intently into the blackness of the livery. But to her chagrin, the man’s face was concealed in shadows. The Indian she did not recognize, so wasted little time on his features. Then something caught her eye. The glint of shiny metal. She lowered her gaze to the man’s chest and caught her breath in sudden shock. The man wore an army uniform! The distinctive buttons gave him away.

Straining her eyes, Shannon tried desperately to see through the shadows to the man’s face, unaware that a dark figure had slipped through the window behind her as soundlessly as a jungle cat. He saw Shannon and froze, momentarily stunned, then crept up behind her. He peered through the door, seeing what Shannon saw, instinctively sensing the danger to them both should Shannon see him and cry out. He heard the man speak of guns and payment, but his face registered no surprise, only a deep sense of satisfaction.

Suddenly Shannon felt another presence in the room. Abruptly she whirled, and found herself imprisoned within a pair of arms stronger than steel bands. Raising her eyes she looked into the fathomless black eyes of the fiercest-looking Indian she had ever seen!

Fright, sheer black fright overwhelmed her. Shannon was more frightened of the ferocious warrior imprisoning her in his arms than she had been of Mad Wolf. She opened her mouth to scream, and found it clamped tightly shut by a big, bronzed hand. Terrorstricken, she struggled against the Indian, but he held her in place against the hard wall of his chest with effortless ease. She fought this new peril so fiercely that she paid scant heed to the words spoken into her ear and did not understand the message her captor was attempting to convey. She sensed grave danger. Not just from the Indian, but from the men on the other side of the door.

Shannon renewed her struggles, disregarding the Indian’s whispered warning in her ear, nothing he said made sense. She wanted to scream and scream and scream. Her small sharp teeth bit ruthlessly into the hand gagging her, gaining scant satisfaction when her captor grunted in pain. But his grip did not weaken. He muttered something that sounded like an apology, then Shannon knew no more.

Holding Shannon against his chest, the Indian quietly waited and watched until the two conspirators left the area. Then, hoisting her over his shoulder, he carried her out the door and into the night.

Shannon moaned, afraid to open her eyes, yet knowing she must. Her jaw ached, and she recalled with painful clarity that big hand coming at her before losing consciousness. He hit her! Her eyes flew open. The first thing she saw were flames dancing against a wall made of hides. Shannon knew then that the Indian had brought her to his tipi. She turned her eyes slowly to study her surroundings. To her right, so close she could reach out and touch him, stood the Indian. His bare legs, as sturdy as twin oaks, were spread wide apart, his moccasined feet planted firmly on the hard ground beneath him.

Slowly Shannon’s gaze traveled upward, over the massive calves and hard, muscular thighs. She paused briefly at his slim hips, her gaze wandering unbiddingly to his loins where the small patch of buckskin barely contained the bold thrust of his sex. Convulsively, Shannon gulped, finding the sight oddly disconcerting as well as terrifying. What did this Indian intend to do to her?

Jerking her gaze away from the strangely arousing sight, Shannon’s eyes continued their erotic journey. His arms, corded with ropy muscles, were crossed over an impressive bronze chest twice the size most normal men possessed. The flesh beneath the smooth tawny skin of his neck and shoulders rippled with suppressed strength. Long ago Shannon had learned the Sioux were a handsome people, more so than other Indians of different tribes, but she knew of only one man who could compare with this handsome savage standing proud and tall before her.

“Blade…”

The name slipped past her lips before her eyes slid upward to behold his dark, bold features, so fierce looking now with his long braids and painted face.

“Do you see anything you like, Little Firebird?”

There was laughter in his voice and tender amusement in his eyes as he squatted down beside her.

“Blade, you frightened the daylights out of me!” Her voice was taut with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

“I did, several times, but you were struggling so hard you didn’t hear me.”

“You hit me!” she accused him sourly, suddenly reminded that her jaw still ached from the blow.

“Forgive me, love. I feared the men in the livery would hear if you cried out.”

“You knew about them? One of the men is Major Vance’s killer, but I couldn’t see his face,” Shannon lamented. “I still don’t know who he is.”

“I do,” Blade said with quiet menace. “I followed Broken Lance to the livery. By then I had already guessed the identity of the gun smuggler and Wade’s killer. I’ve had weeks to think about it.”

“Tell me, who—”

“Later, Little Firebird, after you have greeted me properly. I’ve dreamed of this moment for months.”

Stretching out beside her, Blade gathered Shannon in his arms. She rose up to meet him, winding her arms around his neck, lifting her mouth as his swooped down to capture hers in a long, drugging kiss. It was a ravaging kiss, fraught with need too long denied, searing, urgent, hungry.

“Sweet, so sweet,” Blade whispered against her lips in taut agony. “I love you, Little Firebird, I love you.”

“Show me, my love, show me how much you love me.”

Her hands found their way along his body. With something akin to wonder, her fingertips moved along his lean ribs to his muscled waist and down his side to hair-roughened thighs. They explored the ropy muscles of his back and shoulders before combing through the soft hair on his bronze chest and pausing at the base of his throat. Their breaths merged as his parted lips sought and found hers again and again. For a long time they just held each other and kissed. Then, very slowly, Blade began to undress her, worshipping with hands and mouth each part of her body he had bared. His hands caressed her breasts, his fingers toying with her nipples. She felt the sensation deep in her loins and moaned.

With a flip of her wrist, Shannon released Blade’s breechclout, her glimmering blue eyes admiring every magnificent inch of his hard flesh, turgid with desire for her. He sucked his breath in sharply as Shannon took him into her hand. He was big and hard and throbbing with a pulsing heat that made her ache with the need to feel him deep inside her.

He suckled upon the hard nubs of her nipples, making her whimper. Gently he sank his teeth into the delicate flesh, then laved them tenderly with the rough moistness of his tongue. She made a sound in her throat that was half moan and half plea. The sound seemed to unleash something wild in Blade as he flung himself atop her, pressing forcefully into her as she parted her legs for him. With a cry of joy she welcomed his hard pulsing length, rising up to meet him. He used her fiercely, piercing deeply as she eagerly responded with wild, tempestuous thrusts of her hungry body.

“Ahhh, Little Firebird, you’re so hot and tight, so damn good. I don’t know if I can wait.”

The anguished groan that followed his words told Shannon he was losing control; they had been apart too long. Then she felt the hot spurt of his seed bathe her throbbing womb, and she turned savage beneath him. She soared. Up. Up. Up. Until she could go no higher. Then she was whirling downward into a warm darkness that rose up suddenly and claimed her.

Crying out in ecstasy, Blade felt his seed leave his body in hot, violent spurts. In his entire life he had never known such fulfillment with a woman. Shannon was perfect in every way, and she was his.

Rolling his weight off her, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “I love you, Shannon.” Those simple words expressed every emotion he felt in his heart.

Sighing softly, Shannon replied, “If I ever doubted it, I don’t now.”

Blade managed to pull a fur coverlet over them as they lay together, arms and legs entwined, basking in the afterglow of love’s bliss. Shannon must have dozed then, for she awoke with a start to find Blade kneeling between her legs, gently cleansing her inner thighs and the soft folds of her woman’s flesh with a wet cloth. At first she felt embarrassed to find him performing so intimate a task, but when she looked into his dark eyes she knew there could be no shame between two people who loved each other as they did. When Blade finished, he cleaned himself, then settled down beside her again.

“You shouldn’t have crept up on me tonight like you did,” Shannon complained, “I would have come with you willingly had you asked.”

“I didn’t know you were inside the room when I climbed through the window,” Blade explained. “I hadn’t expected anyone to be there, since there was no light shining through the window.”

“Why were you there?” Shannon asked curiously.

“I followed Broken Lance to the livery and entered my old room in order to hear more clearly what was being said without exposing myself. I was shocked to find you there eavesdropping.”

“You looked so fierce I didn’t recognize you. What made you follow Broken Lance? Did you know he wanted to buy guns? Are you here with Red Cloud’s people?”

Blade smiled with fond indulgence. “One question at a time, Little Firebird. First let me thank you for giving me back my life. I was shocked to learn it was Nigel Bruce who had come to set me free. Is he still at Fort Laramie?”