Merline Lovelace (16 page)

With a little cluck, she patted his cheek. “Really, Jack, do stop fretting. What we just did was quite…satisfactory.”

That caught his attention. He stared at her for long moments, his face bathed in moonlight.

“Satisfactory, huh?”

“Yes. Quite.”

To Suzanne’s intense relief, a gleam of laughter started in his eyes and worked its way down to a slow, heart-stopping grin.

“Well, as long as you’re
satisfied.
”

Still grinning, he dropped a kiss on her mouth. “Unless you plan to curl up and spend the rest of the night on this slab of rock, I’d better clear a spot for us to get comfortable.”

He chose a hollow depression against the gully wall and set about kicking aside brush, fallen bits of shale and any unwanted residents. Suzanne slipped off her perch, intending to help him, but the stickiness between her legs drew a grimace. She threw a quick glance Jack’s way, then ducked behind the rock, tore a strip from her already ragged petticoats and tended to herself as best she could.

By the time she joined him, their spot was cleared. She slipped out of her duster.

“Better keep it on,” Jack advised. “There’ll be a bite in the air before morning.”

“It’s big enough to wrap around us both.”

“I don’t need it. The rocks still hold some of the sun’s heat. I’ll sit here, with my back to the wall, and you can warm my front.”

Since he refused to consider any other arrangement, Suzanne pulled the duster on again and joined him on the ground. He held her loosely, providing a convenient pillow. She found a comfortable spot between muscle and bone and let his warmth surround her.

Above the narrow gully walls, the moon rode high in a jet-black sky. A thousand stars seemed to hang suspended over her. The night had taken on its different voices. The ever-present wind sighed through the rock spires. She heard a whir of wings. Bats, she supposed, or a night owl searching for prey. In the distance, a lone coyote howled mournfully.

Behind her, Jack’s chest rose and fell. His breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple, calm and steady. For all his seeming ease, she knew he wouldn’t sleep. He’d close his eyes, relax his body, just as he had when they’d lain side by side in that small, musty storeroom. But the faintest sound, the vaguest hint of danger would bring him awake and on his feet, Alejandro’s pistol in his hand. She couldn’t imagine how he’d existed so long with so little sleep.

Or what had brought him to the state where he didn’t dare let down his guard.

“Why are you hunting Dawes?”

His sure, steady breathing stilled.

“Why, Jack?”

The question went unanswered for so long Suzanne almost repeated it yet again.

“Dawes murdered my folks. Him and his three friends.”

“Dear Lord!”

She tried to sit upright, but he tightened his hold, keeping her in place.

“They rode up to our place just as it was coming on to noon. Said all they wanted was a hot meal and feed for their horses. My father didn’t like the looks of them and sent me running to fetch his rifle, but…”

“But?” she whispered.

“But they left him lying gut-shot in the hay field and cut me off before I reached the house.”

She could feel him against her back, tight, taut. Hear the emptiness in his voice.

“They laid open my head with a rifle stock, then took turns with my mother. I learned later she fought so hard they had to tie her down and stuffed her shirt in her mouth to stop her curses. She choked to death on her own vomit. I found her there, tied to the table, when I came to. I buried
her and my pa, strapped on his Colt and rode out the next day.”

The stars that had glittered so brilliantly a moment ago lost their sparkle. Suzanne shut her eyes to block the horrific image.

“I sold the homestead, took whatever jobs came my way…punching cows, riding guard for the railroad, putting out drunks at saloons. Once I even hired on with Wells Fargo. But all those years I was hunting.”

She didn’t speak. There was nothing she could say.

“I tracked three of them. Dawes is the last. He’s a dead man, Suzanne. As soon as I get you safe, I’m going after him.”

T
hey found a line of scraggly cottonwoods just before noon the next day. Suzanne didn’t remember passing them on their way in. Nor did Jack. Twisting in his saddle, he scanned the narrow ravine behind.

“We must have missed a mark.”

The fact they might have lost their way didn’t worry Suzanne at that moment half as much as the prospect of wetting her throat thrilled her. Where there were trees, there had to be water. Quivering in anticipation, she guided the chestnut toward the stunted growth.

The cottonwoods clung to the base of a tall cliff, obviously sucking life-giving moisture from an underground stream. With Jack close behind, she followed the curve of the cliff.

“Look! Look at that!”

Not ten yards away, the stream bubbled to the surface in a small, clear pool. With a glad cry, Suzanne dismounted and sank to her knees at its edge. The water was clear, cold and so wonderful she barely noticed the bitter tang of minerals that leached from the porous rock. With Jack hunkered down beside her, she scooped up the precious liquid with both hands and drank her fill.

When she was done, she heaved a huge, contented sigh and flopped back on her elbows. Tipping her face to the sun, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of the moment.

“We’ll stop here awhile,” Jack said. “Give the horses time to rest and graze.”

“Mmm.”

“Give us time to rest and clean up some, too.”

She opened her eyes then, and found him regarding her with a familiar glint in his gray eyes.

“Don’t say it!” she warned.

With her hat hanging by its rawhide strings, frowsy strands of her hair blown loose from her braid and her face streaked with muddy dust, she knew she looked like some creature from the wilds…and didn’t particularly care.

“Now you’ve seen me at my best and my worst,” she told him wryly.

The glint in his eyes deepened. “Which is this?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“All right.” He traced the tip of his forefinger along the line of her wet chin. “This, sweetheart, is your second best.”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed. Your best was last night,” he said slowly. “With your head thrown back and moon light on your face. I’ll carry that picture with me wherever I go.”

She died a little at that moment, but somehow managed a bright smile.

“Well, neither one of us is going anywhere right now. Let’s tend to the horses, then decide between the pig’s knuckles or bully beef.”

Despite her determined cheerfulness, Jack’s words echoed in Suzanne’s head while they wiped down the horses and left them to graze. She was still thinking about them when he went back on foot to try to find their missed turn, leaving her to mull over their choices for the midday meal.

Since neither particularly appealed to her, Suzanne put off the decision in favor of soaking her toes. Her blisters had completely healed, she saw when she dumped her boots on the grass at the
water’s edge. Wiggling her toes, she stuck them in the pool.

The water had a bite to it and raised goose bumps up and down her legs, but it felt so wonderful Suzanne swiftly altered her plans. The chance to wash away a few layers of dust was worth a few shivers. Her canvas duster, shirt and skirt floated to the ground, followed by her ragged petticoats. As she waded into the pool wearing just her camisole and drawers, the rusty stains on the inner legs of her drawers caught her eye.

She sank down, scrubbing at the evidence of her lost maidenhood. Only then did the enormity of what she’d done finally begin to seep in. Falling asleep in Jack’s arms had kept all doubts at bay last night. Thirst and the sheer effort of searching out their trail had occupied her mind this morning. Now, with her scratchy throat eased and cold, bracing water lapping at her hips, Suzanne had time to reflect on her recklessness.

She waited for shame, for fear, for a stinging rush of regret over the realization she wouldn’t bring her most precious gift to her marriage bed. All that emerged from her chaotic thoughts was a fierce joy.

Last night belonged to her. Like Jack, she’d carry the memory of that stolen hour wherever she went. Unlike him, however, she refused to believe
last night was the only memory she’d take away with her. They’d come too far together, crossed too many miles.

She wouldn’t let him ride out of her life. She couldn’t. He was burned into her heart now. He’d left his mark on her, like a hot iron on rawhide.

Setting her jaw in a way her parents and brother would have recognized instantly, Suzanne raised her hands and let water trickle down her neck and bosom while she debated various ways to make Jack see they belonged together. The most obvious one didn’t occur to her until she heard a strangled sound just over her shoulder.

She whipped her head around, feeling a bit foolish to be caught sitting in little more than a puddle of water. Her embarrassment fled when she noted the raw, unguarded hunger on Jack’s face.

A hammering started just under her ribs. Slowly, she scooped up another handful of water. Just as slowly, she let it flow through her palms.

Her wet camisole clung to her body. Her drawers lay plastered against her hips. She watched Jack’s gaze take in every inch of her body and thrilled to the red that rose in his cheeks.

“Why don’t you come in and join me?” she murmured. “The water’s cold but not icy.”

She thought he’d refuse. Was so sure of it, in fact, that a sharp pang of disappointment pierced
her when he turned away. His protective streak had reared its head, no doubt. He wouldn’t unbuckle his gun belt, strip down and cavort in a few inches of water while they still had to find their way out of the Badlands.

Or would he?

When his hat hit the grass, Suzanne’s lungs squeezed. By the time he’d shed every piece of his clothing, she could hardly breathe.

She’d never seen him naked before. Had never seen any grown man naked, for that matter, although she and Bright Water had once stumbled across several troopers scrubbing themselves down in the river. She’d viewed a goodly number of Greek statues in books and museums, however, and decided on the spot that Jack Sloan compared favorably to any Greek.
Quite
favorably. The afternoon sun bronzed his skin everywhere it hadn’t tanned to dark mahogany. Swirls of dark hair gleamed on his chest and stomach and…and lower.

Heat rushed into Suzanne’s cheeks. She tried to look away. She honestly tried. But a need had sprung to life low in her belly, and she’d passed beyond the point of maidenly embarrassment.

Jack waded in, his eyes on the woman who drew him like the sirens he’d once heard about who lured sailors to their doom. He was a fool to give in to the hunger clawing at him, worse than a fool.
He deserved to be shot for what he’d done last night. Yet he could no more resist the curves displayed so provocatively in wet linen than he could stop the wind from whistling through the canyons.

Just once more, he swore. He had to hold her just once more before they followed the mark he’d found and rode out of the Badlands. He’d do it right this time. Bring her slow and sweet to her pleasure. Show her how it could be. How it
should
be.

He’d bare her to the sun and let his hungry gaze take in what he’d glimpsed only by moonlight last night. Her eyes ablaze with passion. Her silky skin flushed. Her breasts firm and high, their red-brown nipples peaked.

A tiny vein throbbed in her throat as she tucked her legs under her and sat back on her heels. Jack joined her, his hands curling into fists as his hungry gaze took in the ribs beneath the wet linen, the curve of her stomach, even the tiny hollow of her belly button.

“You’re so small,” he said, his voice rough with need. “So delicate.”

“I believe you’ve mentioned something of that sort before,” she reminded him on a shaky laugh. “Right before you remarked that I carried more weight on me than appearances would lead one to believe.”

“I want to see you, Suzanne. All of you.”

She took her lower lip between her teeth but didn’t shy away when he reached for the hem of her camisole. Trembling, she raised her arms while he drew the wet shift up and over her head. Her belly quivered under his touch as he untied the strings on her drawers.

The wet linen parted. She knelt before him, young and proud and so perfect Jack couldn’t believe she’d let him touch her, much less lift her face to his and return his kiss with a hunger that matched his.

This time, he loved her exactly as he’d vowed to. Stretching her out on the grass beside the small, glistening pool, he brought her slow to pleasure. Showed her exactly how sweet the joining could be with the discomfort of her breaching behind her.

And this time, Suzanne learned the unexpected and completely intoxicating joy of giving as well as receiving. Her mouth and tongue and hands eager, she explored Jack’s body, took him into her own, cried out in wonder, in delight, in aching, panting, need.

They remained at the water hole long enough for the horses to graze their fill and the wind to snap most of the dampness from Suzanne’s wet undergarments.

Big Nose had said he and his men might be back as early as tonight if they managed this holdup right. Suzanne had no desire to meet up with the outlaws on the way out of the Badlands. Still, her feet dragged as she went to saddle and bridle the chestnut.

Everything in her cried for one more day, just a few more hours. Jack would leave her once they reached Fort Meade. The need to avenge his parents burned too deep to give up now that he’d closed in on his last quarry.

Time was running with him…and against Suzanne. She couldn’t linger at Fort Meade, waiting while he hunted down Charlie Dawes. If she still had any chance at catching Bright Water, she’d have to leave immediately for the Arapaho camp. Maybe afterward, she thought as she grabbed the saddle horn and levered up enough to get a boot in the stirrup. Maybe Jack would come hunting for her after he finished with Dawes.

She nursed that silent, secret hope throughout the rest of their tortuous journey through The Wall. The going was slow, too slow for Jack’s liking. With each passing hour, he ranged farther and farther ahead of Suzanne, searching for her marks, determined to draw fire and give her time to escape down one of the endless gullies if necessary. By the time they found the last gouge, shadows
crawled across the canyon walls and Suzanne’s own nerves had all but shredded.

“We’re close to the entrance,” Jack said, nodding to a rock turret sculpted by the wind into the shape of a camel’s head. “I remember that formation.”

“So do I.”

“We’ve still got an hour or more of daylight. If the moon’s as full tonight as it was last night and we make it to the main road, I’m thinking we should push on to Fort Meade. It’ll be a hard ride, but…”

“I can make it.”

“I know you can.” Despite the tension that knotted his shoulders, he flashed her a grin. “I’m just worried about keeping up with you.”

Suzanne was carrying that grin in her mind when they rounded a massive formation and broke through The Wall. After the narrow, crowding rocks, the sight of the sun flaming bright and low over rolling prairie gave her spirits a much needed jolt.

The plume of dust that appeared to the north less than twenty minutes later gave them another jolt. It was too far away to see who or what raised it, but it was coming their way, and fast. Her heart in her throat, Suzanne drew in close to Jack.

“Do you see that?”

“I see it.”

“Big Nose?”

“That’s my guess.”

Swallowing, Suzanne threw a look over her shoulder. The Wall bared its jagged teeth to the sky, waiting to consume them once more.

“Should we go back?”

“Too late,” Jack said grimly. “If we can see their dust, they can see ours. We turn tail and run back, they’ll follow our tracks easy enough.”

“So we cut south, away from them, and hope they’re so dead set on reaching their hideout they don’t follow?”

“You have a better plan?”

Suzanne sent a nervous glance toward the rising cloud of dust. “Not one I can think of at the moment.”

“Then head south, sweetheart, and fast.”

Always after, Suzanne believed they would have made it if their horses hadn’t gone two days with only minimal grazing and one watering.

The animals made a valiant effort. Their sides heaving, they flew across the prairie. Wincing at the effort she demanded of the chestnut, Suzanne kept him in a reckless, headlong gallop. All the while, she prayed the riders bearing down on them
from the north would turn and disappear into the rocks.

She thought they slowed, was sure they turned toward the entrance to The Wall for a few, heart-stopping seconds. A wild hope rose in her chest, only to shatter into a thousand pieces when the half dozen or so riders aimed their mounts straight south.

Bent low over their mounts, she and Jack raced across the prairie. The drum of hooves pounding dirt matched the hammering of her heart. Foam bubbled around her mouth’s bit and flew back, splattering in Suzanne’s face.

From the corner of one eye, she saw the roan hit a prairie-dog hole, stumble, go down. Jack went with him, yet somehow managed to keep his seat as the panting, white-eyed gelding pawed its way back to its feet.

Frantic, Suzanne sawed on the reins and brought the chestnut around. The roan hadn’t come up lame, she saw with a sob of relief, but the poor beast took several precious seconds to regain its stride.

“Keep riding,” Jack shouted. “I’ll drop back and draw their fire.”

“No!”

“Dammit, Suzanne, ride!”

For a heartbeat, maybe two, she considered
yanking on the reins, whirling the chestnut around and racing back to give herself up. She was the one they wanted, the one they intended to collect the ransom for.

But Jack would follow…and pay dearly for both their escape and the men he’d taken down in the process. Her throat tight, she slashed the reins down on the chestnut’s sweat-soaked shoulders.

The first crack of rifle fire jackknifed her almost double in the saddle. Fear slamming through her, she craned her head and saw Jack drop back to widen the distance between them before he returned fire. With the pop of gunfire filling the air, Suzanne raced toward a rise some half mile or so distant, intending to put at least that much cover between them and their pursuers.