A Promise of Thunder (16 page)

“I—don’t know. Get a job, maybe, until I can earn enough money to rebuild my cabin.”

“That will take years. I’m sure there will be no problem with keeping the homestead, for you did fulfill the necessary requirements. It’s not your fault it was destroyed by fire. You probably wouldn’t be required to rebuild till spring, but you couldn’t possibly earn enough by then to start a new cabin. Then there are taxes. Have you considered that?”

The thought of paying taxes on her homestead nearly defeated Storm. If she was a coward, she could give up everything and go home, but she hated to burden her parents with another mouth to feed. Buddy’s parents weren’t any better off than her own family, though they only had two children left
at home. Besides, she feared the Kennedys would blame her for Buddy’s death and hate her for keeping what remained of Buddy’s small inheritance from his grandmother instead of returning it to them. She had always gotten along with the Kennedys, but they had never fully forgiven them for taking off for Oklahoma to claim land when he could remain in Missouri and eke out a meager living on the farm.

I’m homeless and virtually penniless
, Storm thought with humbling insight. The only money available to her lay in the sale of her homestead. But failure didn’t sit well with Storm. She was a pioneer in the true sense of the word, and claiming a homestead had been the ultimate experience of her life. It had been a proud day when she drove her stakes into the ground. To sell it now would utterly devastate her.

“I’ll think of something.”

Grady grew pensive as he watched Storm fight back tears. She appeared on the edge of collapse, and he wondered what had held her together this long. He had thought her white blood made her different from the People, but he was learning that she possessed as strong a spirit as any Sioux warrior. And though he hated to admit it, responsibility for her husband’s death weighed heavily on him. He fervently wished he could turn his back on her and let her solve her seemingly insurmountable problems on her own, but he could not.

Then, somewhere from the inner chambers of his brain came the thought that Storm actually did possess qualities that would make her a good mother for Little Buffalo. He loved his son and missed him fiercely. It was time he and Little Buffalo were reunited. It suddenly occurred to him that he could discharge his responsibility to Storm Kennedy and make a home for his son at the same time. He smiled at the simplicity of the solution to all their problems. Storm would have a home, he could have his son with him as he’d always intended, and have a passionate woman to share his bed.

“I have come to a decision, Storm Kennedy.”

Storm’s eyelashes flew up as she regarded him with mild curiosity. His gaze was so intense, she felt herself drowning in the deep blue pools of his eyes. A thrill of apprehension shot down her spine and she instinctively knew something of tremendous import was about to be revealed. Something that could change her life forever.

“We will marry,” Grady said with quiet authority. “I miss my son a great deal and he is at an age where he needs a father. You will have a home, our land holdings will double, and my son will have someone to care for him.”

Intense astonishment touched Storm’s pale face. Grady Stryker was an ever-changing mystery. She knew he had been married before, but this new revelation stunned her.

“You have a son?”

Grady’s eyes wore a shuttered expression as he gazed at some distant specter above Storm’s head. “His name is Little Buffalo. He is nearly six years old.”

“Why didn’t you mention him before? Where is he now?”

“Little Buffalo is living on the Sioux reservation with Summer Sky’s parents. Summer Sky’s younger sister, Laughing Brook, is caring for him. He is very fond of her.”

“Do you think it’s wise to bring your son here to live with you? Won’t he miss Laughing Brook and his grandparents?”

“He is my son,” Grady said. His voice was uncompromising yet oddly gentle. “I want him with me now that I have land of my own and a home.”

“Let me get this straight. You expect me to marry you and raise your son,” Storm said in a voice she hardly recognized. Was there no end to the man’s audacity?

“It’s the perfect solution,” Grady said matter-of-factly. His response was only a buzz in Storm’s ears as slow anger began to build inside her head. “You need a home, my son needs a woman’s touch, and you won’t have to sell your homestead.”

Tossing her head, Storm eyed him with cold fury. “Go to hell! I’m not marrying you and I’m definitely not raising another woman’s child.” Had Grady mentioned love or commitment Storm might have considered his proposal. But her heart told her Grady Stryker was incapable of the kind of love she wanted.

Grady’s blue eyes grew stormy as his own volatile temper threatened to explode. “What choice do you have? You know damn well you’ll have to build another cabin in order to fulfill homesteading rules. If we combine our homesteads one cabin will suffice. Besides, for some confounding reason I feel responsible for you.”

“I couldn’t live with the kind of violence that comes looking for you. The fact that you are a renegade half-breed makes marriage between us impossible. Besides, you don’t love me and—”

“What in the hell does love have to do with anything?” Grady asked harshly. “I married Summer Sky because I loved her and she was
taken from me in a single act of violence. Loving someone and losing them hurts too damn much to do it more than once in a lifetime. I want you, and if you are honest with yourself you’ll admit that I made you feel like a woman for the first time.”

Storm flushed, recalling all those wonderful, arousing things Grady did to her and how wantonly she responded. The profound depths of passion Grady had plumbed within her body had stunned her. But all it really proved, her mind argued, was that she was capable of experiencing passion. Besides, she wanted more than pity from the man she married—if she ever decided to marry again.

“We’ve both been married before, we’ve both experienced love,” Storm began slowly. “Even you can see this won’t work. We come from different backgrounds. You’re Indian. I’ve not heard you say one kind thing about the white race since I’ve known you. Why do you hold all whites in contempt? Wouldn’t you be happier living on the reservation with your son?”

Grady glowered at her and turned away. “You know nothing about me. My father is a half-breed Lakota Sioux. His mother was the daughter of a chief. My mother is the daughter of a southern planter. That makes me only one-quarter Indian. I’m proud of my Indian heritage and the fact that I so closely resemble my father. As for the white race, except for my mother and her family, I know few of them who are worth one
hair on Summer Sky’s head, yet they killed her.”

His words left her confused. Exactly how had Summer Sky died? “I’m white,” Storm reminded him.

“I’m fully aware of that,” Grady commented dryly. Suddenly he was on his feet, dragging her from her chair and pulling her against the hard wall of his chest. “But it doesn’t make the inexplicable pleasure I feel when you’re in my arms any less. I never wanted it to be like this between us, but it is. At least something can be gained from this marriage if you agree to it. A lot can be said for sexual gratification.”

He lowered his head and tasted the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, sliding slowly, tantalizingly upward to brush a lingering kiss against her lips. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes. “The choice is yours, sweetheart. Will we marry or do you need more persuasion?”

Storm’s thoughts scattered like leaves before the wind. With Grady’s hard body in intimate contact with hers, coherent speech was impossible. Grady chuckled indulgently as he nuzzled her ear. She smelled so good. The scent she used to rinse her hair lingered like the odor of dried crushed flowers after their summer blossoms were gone. And she tasted just as sweet, Grady thought as he placed gentle, nibbling kisses along her cheekbone.

Then, sudden, urgent need made the game seem like innocent child’s play. He was no
longer satisfied to merely kiss and taste; he wanted more, much more. Through the confusion of her thoughts, Storm knew the exact moment Grady’s teasing kisses turned into raw, grinding need. His hands grew bold, seeking her breasts, kneading the tender mounds and massaging her nipples through the material of her dress. When they tired of that sport they drifted downward over her hips to grasp her buttocks, pulling her against the swollen hardness of his groin. Storm gasped and squirmed, trying to escape. She realized her mistake too late.

“Oh, lady, you do know how to drive a man crazy.”

“No, I didn’t mean—You must let me go. I don’t want this. I want—”

“I know exactly what you want, lady, and I’m going to give it to you. When we marry you can have it every day.”

“Marrying you would be sheer madness,” Storm managed to say between the kisses he was pressing against her lips.

With practiced ease her coat was stripped from her and tossed to the floor. When his nimble fingers undid the fastenings on the front of her dress, loosened the strings of her corset and stroked her naked breasts, Storm began to tremble. “Your body doesn’t lie,” Grady said with a note of triumph when her nipples tautened beneath his caresses. Then his mouth closed over a rosy peak and suckled roughly. Storm jerked convulsively, the hot warmth of his mouth creating a sweet melting inside her.

Storm wanted to cry out in protest, wanted to make Grady stop. She knew from her past experience with the magnificent savage that his loving was too soul-destroying, too intense for it to be lasting. Lust, pure and simple. When the unaccountable attraction between them cooled nothing would remain. Grady didn’t love her; he felt pity and a certain responsibility for her—and he needed a mother for his son.

“No!”

“Yes.”

He eased her down on the makeshift bed of furs and blankets and sat back on his haunches, staring at her through narrowed lids. The fire in the hearth was blazing brightly; the room had grown quite warm, but it paled in comparison to the white-hot flame devouring Grady.

He slid her dress over her shoulders and down her arms. The corset quickly followed, then her shift. “Never will I understand why white women wear so many clothes,” Grady said as he slid the stockings down her legs and removed her shoes. “Indian women are too practical to force their bodies into instruments of torture.”

“I’m not an Indian,” Storm managed to say.

“No, you’re not. Your skin is too soft and pale.”

A thick brown finger stretched out to draw a shaky line down one breast to its pink nipple. Gently, his hand outlined the circle of her breast. The gentle massage sent currents of
electricity through her body. Broadening his scope, his hands slid over her silken belly to her thighs, spreading and lifting them to press moist kisses on the smooth insides. Then his mouth grew bold, sliding upward to nuzzle the nest of blonde curls nestled between her legs. When his tongue darted into the moist crevice of her womanhood Storm cried out in dismay.

“You can’t! No, please!”

Grady lifted his head. “Did your husband never love you in this manner?”

“Buddy would never do such a perverted thing like that. It isn’t right. It isn’t … Oh …”

Ignoring her protest, Grady lowered his head, grasping her hips and holding her in place while he continued pressing warm, wet kisses on that most intimate part of her. Though every nerve in her body fought against this ultimate intimacy, Storm arched against his caress, seeking more of those heady sensations he was creating within her.

“Please stop, I can’t stand it!”

“You’re close, sweetheart,” Grady murmured hoarsely. “Don’t hold back. I’ll stay with you until the end.”

The tender torment of his relentless mouth drove Storm to the very brink of madness, and the delicious agony of his lashing tongue turned madness into ecstasy. She dangled at the edge of eternity for several breathless moments, until Grady’s finger found a place so sensitive Storm
screamed out in sweet surrender.

When Storm’s heart slowed to a dull pounding, she opened her eyes and saw Grady towering above her, removing the last of his clothing. Tossing his breechclout aside, he stood poised beside her, magnificently nude, gloriously male, every splendid inch of him cast in bronze.

My God, I want him!
she thought with fearful clarity. The undeniable and dreadful fact that no other man had the power to move her in the same earth-shattering way as Grady frightened her. She stared at him with her astonishing level gaze. His manhood was large and heavy, thrusting aggressively out of a nest of curling black hair, and a languid, drugging warmth uncoiled inside her. His face was strained with the harsh fever of desire, dark and striking.

“Do I please you, Storm?” His question startled her.

“I—yes,” she said, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. She knew it was useless to lie when her eyes gave her away.

“You please me very much. When I put my body inside yours I am as close to Paradise as I will ever come in this life.”

She moaned softly as he lowered himself full length atop her. Instinctively, her body arched toward him. “Now it’s my turn, sweetheart,” he whispered against her neck. “Spread your legs.”

Storm let her legs fall open, amazed that she had obeyed Grady’s command without the
slightest protest. He didn’t enter her immediately, wringing an agonized groan from Storm. Didn’t he know how she ached to feel the hard thrust of his strength inside her? Instead he inserted his hand between their bodies, locating the tender bud nestled between her thighs, and massaged in slow, erotic circles. At the same time his lips toyed with her sensitive, swollen nipples. He suckled her breasts as his fingers grew bolder, searching for the pleasure points he seemed to know by instinct.

Suddenly he reversed their positions, bringing Storm atop him. For a moment Storm looked confused. Grady chuckled, delighted that he was the first to teach her new ways to love.

“What are you doing?”