A Promise of Thunder (7 page)

Storm eyed Turner warily, leery of his intentions. “I’m Storm Kennedy.”

“I don’t blame you for being cautious, Mrs. Kennedy. Guthrie abounds with all types of scoundrels. But I took you for a lady immediately and wished only to offer my services. In whatever capacity,” he added, sliding a glance in Grady’s direction. “Has the half-breed been bothering you?”

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Turner, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Of course you are, but just in case, I can be reached at the Guthrie Hotel. I see you are in line,” he remarked conversationally. “Have you by chance claimed a piece of Oklahoma?”

Storm smiled radiantly, eager and willing to relate how she had claimed her quarter section of prime land. “Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Remarkable, I’d say, though I can’t help but wonder how you’ll manage on your own. Farming is difficult enough for a man, but a woman—?”

Storm’s bottom lip jutted out belligerently. “Perhaps I won’t farm the land. There are other possibilities, you know. Besides, I’m quite capable of surviving on my own.”

“Very commendable, yes indeed, but not very practical. I predict that once you have time to consider the tremendous responsibility you’re assuming you’ll have second thoughts. If you do—”

“I won’t.”

“But if you do, I’d be more than happy to buy your land from you at a reasonable price. Just think, you can go back home with money in your pocket and find yourself a husband to support you.”

“I appreciate your advice, Mr. Turner, but Oklahoma is my home now. Come what may, I’m here to stay.”

“Who is that man talking to Mrs. Kennedy?” Grady asked Captain Stark when he noticed Storm wasn’t alone.

“A speculator by the name of Nat Turner,” Stark said, glancing in Storm’s direction. “Don’t know much about him. He just arrived in town.”

Grady didn’t like the way the man was cozying up to Storm. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I think I’ll see what he wants with Storm.”

“Very well, Stryker. Just remember, stay out of trouble. In deference to your father, I’m going to ignore the rumors concerning your past. But at the first sign of trouble, I’ll be all over you like hot tar.”

“I’ll remember that, Captain,” Grady said as he focused his attention back to Storm and the man with whom she was conversing.

“Nevertheless, please don’t hesitate to call on me for anything—anything at all,” Grady heard the stranger say to Storm.

“Is there a problem?” Grady asked, scowling at Turner in a manner that bespoke his displeasure.

“I’m merely offering my services to Mrs. Kennedy,” Turner replied quickly.

Turner thought the half-breed looked like the kind of man he usually avoided, a man with a hot temper who acted first and asked questions later. Turner’s philosophy in life was never to tangle personally with dangerous men. There were other, more subtle ways to gain the upper hand with men like that without exposing oneself to violence. He paid good money to avoid violence and keep his reputation unsullied.

“Mrs. Kennedy doesn’t need your services, Turner.” For some reason Grady felt an instant dislike for Nat Turner.

“I can speak for myself,” Storm said, her temper flaring. What made Grady Stryker think he was responsible for her? He had no business speaking in her behalf. As soon as they were alone she intended to give him a piece of her mind. “Thank you very much, Mr. Turner, for your kind offer, but I don’t anticipate any problems.”

“Then I’ll be on my way,” Turner said, tipping his hat. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Kennedy.” He gave Grady a quick nod before continuing on his way.

“Do you always speak to strangers?” Grady
asked with unreasonable anger. “Did your parents teach you nothing?”

“How dare you suggest I’d invite a man’s attentions,” Storm bit out. “Mr. Turner noticed the confrontation between you and Fork and kindly offered assistance. I thought he was a real gentleman.”

“Some men prefer widows for their obvious experience,” Grady said crudely, “while others prey on any comely woman too naive to see through them. You’re young, beautiful, and too damn desirable for your own good. You’d be wise to discourage men like Turner. You’re not adept enough to handle them.”

Grady noted the surprised look on Storm’s face and was puzzled by it. Didn’t she know men would find her beautiful and desirable? Was she so naive that she had no earthly idea she was breathtakingly lovely, with an innate sensuousness that made men itch to possess her? Nothing about her was ordinary. From the top of her shining blonde head to the tip of her dainty feet she was sensual, provocative, and fascinating. Grady thought her lips the most tempting he had ever seen. Full and lush, they seemed made expressly for kissing.

“I have no intention of listening to you or any other man, Mr. Stryker. I’ll do as I see fit.”

The slightest of smiles curved Grady’s lips. “Seeing as how we’re neighbors, why don’t you call me Grady?”

“Because I have no intention of becoming too friendly with you,” Storm said. Her scathing
reply drew a chuckle from him. “Do you think I could forget so soon that you’re responsible for Buddy’s death?”

Grady’s face darkened and he turned away. Storm had wanted to put him in his place and she felt a thrill of accomplishment at having done it so handily. He really is a detestable man, she thought.

Then why does sparring with Grady Stryker make you feel so alive?
a voice inside her dared to ask.

Because Grady Stryker is like no other man
, that same voice replied.

Storm chose to ignore those voices. All she knew was that Grady Stryker was a danger to her. If just being near him could make her forget Buddy, what would a friendship lead to? Trouble, she decided. More trouble than she could even imagine. Men like Grady Stryker didn’t settle down in one place for long. Sooner or later their violent ways caught up with them.

Once their claims were filed, Storm and Grady went their own ways, agreeing to meet back at the wagon later in the day. First Storm visited the bank, receiving assurance that she had sufficient funds with which to buy lumber and hire men to build her shanty. Only she wasn’t going to build a shanty. It was going to be a real cabin, small out of necessity, but comfortable enough for her immediate needs. No soddy built of turf for her. Many settlers
built them for economy’s sake despite the fact that they were damp and nearly impossible to keep clean.

From the bank, Storm went to the lumberyard to order wood and roofing for her cabin. The owner assured her the material would be delivered to her claim the next day. Construction could be started immediately.

Storm and Grady met by chance at the lumberyard when he stopped there to order his own lumber. Since his funds were limited, he planned to build his own dwelling.

A visit to the grocery store for provisions was her last stop before Storm headed back to the wagon. She had already arranged for a well to be dug and bought items she and Buddy had neglected earlier. She placed her purchases in the wagon beside Grady’s packages. Because he had been less prepared than Storm, his goods nearly filled the wagon. Foremost was the roomy tent he intended to use until his cabin was erected.

When Grady leaped into the driver’s seat, Storm offered no resistance. She was too tired to argue. The hectic events of the past few days had taken their toll, and losing Buddy had been a shock to her system. Before they reached the outskirts of Guthrie, Storm was already asleep, using Grady’s broad shoulder as a cushion for her head.

Storm never stirred when Grady placed an arm around her, drawing her tightly against him. The evening had grown cool and she
snuggled closer against him to absorb his comforting warmth. She didn’t even awaken when they reached her claim and he carried her into her tent, placing her gently on the bedroll that served as her bed and covering her with another blanket he found nearby. After unloading her provisions and stacking them against the tent, he drove the wagon to his own claim, unloading his supplies before unhitching the horses and hobbling them nearby. He’d return the wagon the next day, he decided, giving him another excuse to see Storm.

Workers arrived with Storm’s lumber the next morning, and within days the cabin took shape. Meanwhile, Grady began work on his own dwelling, which was rising much more slowly since he was working alone. Storm had decided to move her cabin site more than a half mile away from the place where she had originally erected her tent; it now stood on a grassy knoll beneath a stand of trees that would shade her home in the blistering heat of summer. The site also gave her a good view of her land. And better yet, it was farther away from Grady’s cabin site, which was nestled on the bank of the river.

The digging of the well was going more slowly than the raising of the cabin, Storm thought as she trekked across Grady’s land with a pail in each hand. She had driven the wagon to a section of his roped-off claim, then walked the rest of the way to the river to draw water for the
day. It was a daily chore, one she had come to loathe. Each time she crossed the half-breed’s land she felt more and more indebted to him, and she didn’t like the feeling. Sometimes she saw him working on his cabin and she nodded in greeting, and other times he was nowhere in sight. Inspecting his land, she supposed. She had to admit it was a much better piece of land than her own quarter section and she envied him his claim.

This morning the absence of hammering sounds told Storm that Grady wasn’t working on his cabin. Her relief was profound when she realized she wouldn’t have to see him with his splendid torso bared to the sun as he worked on his cabin. The sight of a half-naked Grady, his bronze muscles taut and slick with sweat, nearly always sent her pulses spinning out of control.

“How is your cabin coming along?”

Storm spun around, dropping the buckets she had just filled at the river’s edge and spilling the water onto the ground. “Must you sneak up behind me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. I always move quietly; comes naturally, I suppose.”

“Look what you’ve made me do,” Storm said crossly.

Scowling up at him, she nudged an empty bucket with her booted toe. Only then did she get a good look at him, and she gasped in dismay. He was shirtless, as usual, and pantless as well. The brief breechclout he wore left little
to the imagination. Storm’s eyes settled briefly on the taut piece of deerhide stretched across his loins before flying back up to his face.

“I can remedy that easily enough,” Grady said, picking up the buckets and walking down to the river bank.

Storm gulped and tried to look away when he bent over to draw water. A goodly portion of his taut buttocks was exposed, and the sight thoroughly unsettled her. When Grady completed his task and turned around, her face had turned a dull red. When comprehension dawned, he gave a soft, mocking laugh.

“Does my body disturb you?”

“I—no, should it?”

“You make a terrible liar, Storm Kennedy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an untouched maiden. Did you never admire your husband’s body? Or explore his flesh in ways that made you both burn with desire?”

Storm was appalled. “Why—I—how dare you suggest that I—I—participated in such depraved activities!”

Grady cocked a dark eyebrow. “Depraved? You were a married woman, Storm. What is depraved about desiring your husband? Or pleasing him and being pleased in return?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His explicit questions were flustering her. She had no idea what he meant.

Aghast, Grady stared at her. The notion that Storm’s husband hadn’t taught her the meaning of passion was inconceivable. Was Buddy
Kennedy too young and inexperienced to appreciate her woman’s body and what it was capable of?

“How can that be? Did you find no enjoyment in the marriage bed?” He stared at her lips, mesmerized by the soft, pink flesh, parted slightly in shock. They begged for his kisses, and Grady’s need to taste their lush contours was so pressing it obliterated every moral instinct he possessed.

Reeling in shock, Storm sensed his intention too late to turn and run. Actually, she wasn’t sure she would have fled had she known what was coming. Instead, her eyes widened as his arms slid around her, letting her feel his need as he pulled her close. When the look in her eyes changed from shock to confusion, Grady asked, “Can you feel how much I desire you?”

Storm nearly fainted from pleasure. The feel of his hard body against her much softer one was a new experience. Of course she and Buddy had embraced, but never had she felt the pressure of his need branding her through the layers of her clothing. Buddy had been a gentle, thoughtful lover, ever mindful of her delicate sensibilities. Lovemaking took place only at night, under the cover of darkness, not during the day when emotions were laid bare in the daylight. Wasn’t that the normal way of things?

Suddenly Grady was kissing her, his tongue tracing the soft fullness of her lips before covering them completely. She was shocked at her
own eager response to his kiss, and her mouth parted in protest. It was all the encouragement Grady needed as he pressed her closer and slid his tongue between her parted lips. Abruptly his lips grew hard and searching, seeking, demanding, leaving no room for protest as his tongue explored ruthlessly, leaving Storm gasping for breath. Never in her eighteen years had she experienced a kiss quite like the one bestowed on her by Grady Stryker.

Storm tried valiantly to escape the confines of Grady’s arms, but to no avail. The gurgling sounds she made deep in her throat seemed to increase his arousal as his kiss deepened, until she thought she would die of pleasure.

She hated the feeling.

She loved it.

She wished he would stop.

She wanted it to go on forever.

It wasn’t Buddy.

It was the thought of her dead husband and the knowledge that Grady was giving her more pleasure than she’d ever experienced with Buddy that finally moved her to act. And when she felt his hands slide over her ribs to fondle her breasts, she knew she had to do something or burn in hell forever. Twisting from his grasp, she stepped back, breathing heavily, and not just from exertion. What she felt—what Grady made her feel—was something her meager experience hadn’t prepared her for. It was something so astounding, so earthshaking, it frightened her.