Authors: Patricia Hagan
Teresa made a face. “I’d rather be here than over there listening to Elisa. It seems she had some words with Captain Arnhardt earlier and she’s been gossiping to the women about catching you and him in a torrid embrace.”
Julie felt her cheeks burn, and glanced away. “It wasn’t the way she…probably saw it, and I wasn’t with him just now.”
“Oh, you don’t owe me an explanation,” Teresa hastened to say. “I think it’s wonderful that you two are trying to work things out between you, but you certainly don’t need Elisa Thatcher spying on you and blabbing to everyone. And I know you weren’t with him just now because he was looking for you.”
“He was?” Julie immediately brightened, then blushed as Teresa giggled.
“He said he was going to look for you, and if he didn’t find you, he’d be back. Just sit down and relax. If you join the other women, you’ll just be subjecting yourself to Elisa’s sharp tongue.”
“Oh, she doesn’t bother me,” Julie told her. “By now everyone should know the kind of person she is, and nobody should take her seriously.”
“They don’t now. Oh, in the beginning people were intimidated by her. But now we’re thinking in terms of surviving, not of being socially ostracized in Arizona. I think Elisa realizes this, and it makes her desperate. And,” she added fervently, “let’s don’t forget her baby died. That’s bound to have affected her, especially since we’ve heard that’s the only reason her husband sent for her. She’s a troubled woman.”
Julie was only half-listening as she wondered whether to confide what had happened. She decided against it. Teresa didn’t need other concerns, not in her condition. It would not be fair to burden her.
Teresa realized Julie was not listening and suddenly inquired, “If I’m not being too nosy, just how are things going with the captain?”
“We’re talking.” Julie shrugged. “I get the feeling something has stood in the way of our being totally honest with each other. If so, and we can work it out, fine. If not, then I think it’s time to end things once and for all.”
“But you don’t want it to end, do you?” Teresa prodded.
“No,” Julie admitted softly. “I don’t, but if it must, then I’ll accept it. Until we reach Arizona, though, it’s going to be difficult to be around him, see him every day.”
“Maybe it will be a joy instead,” Teresa said brightly, nodding in the direction behind Julie. “Here he comes now.”
He walked purposefully to them and, with an absent nod to Teresa, reached for Julie’s hand. It was dwarfed by his. Silently, he led her into the shadows far away.
Staring down at her as they moved, he was captivated all over again by her delicate, rare beauty. If he closed his eyes he still saw her vividly in his mind—the misty green eyes shaded by long, dusty lashes, beguiling and mysterious…the sensuous lips…the perfectly sculpted body, whose mysteries he knew as well as he knew his own.
No woman, he had vowed, would ever capture his heart. His body, yes, but not his heart. He would not allow himself to be enslaved by love.
Julie did not ask their destination. As always, she was content to be in his company.
They reached an outcropping of rocks, and he held her close for a moment, then led her to a private cloister.
He leaned against a boulder, arms folded across his chest. “Now, we talk, misty eyes.”
There was scant light, only a quarter moon, but Julie could see his narrowed eyes staring at her intently. She moved back, away from him, sensing that he needed to express himself without the arousal so easily sparked between them. He took a deep breath and began to talk.
“You had a fever on the ship.” He reminded her of an incident several years past. “You were delirious and told me all about your past. But I’m the one who should have been so candid with you. Then you would understand why I feel as I do about marriage.”
She knew it was best to ask no questions but to allow him to unleash whatever he had been holding inside all this time.
“Long ago,” he went on, his gaze transfixed, “when I was a boy, I made up my mind that I would never tie myself to a woman. Understand that I had a happy childhood. I loved both my parents. But what caused me to make that vow was the realization that they never loved each other. Or, if they had, it was long over by the time I got there. They weren’t happy together. Miserable was more like it. They never knew my sister and I could overhear through those thin walls—a fisherman’s modest house—that we heard my mother’s complaining, the violent arguments that drove my father to the sea more often than he really had to go.
“As I grew older, things got worse. My father stayed away more and more. I think I was the only one truly aware of his deep misery, because there were times when we would go out together in his boat, and too much rum would loosen his tongue. He’d confide things I had no business hearing, things he later forgot he’d told me.
“He told me once,” he went on, “that the sea was the only place he found comfort, that he would ‘welcome the day it gave him eternal peace.’ I remembered those exact words when he was lost at sea. Storm warnings were up when he took his boat out that morning, and I later wondered whether he was seeking the solace of a grave at sea. I think my mother finally realized what she had driven him to do. So it was actually her own remorse that killed her soon afterward.”
He gave her a long, searching look. “I made up my mind never to get married and endure the same misery. That’s why I asked you to be my mistress and not my wife.”
It was her turn to speak, she knew, but what words could she find to say that she understood but wouldn’t alter her stand? “I’m sorry,” she said finally, understanding at long last that their love could never be. “Maybe one day, you’ll stop thinking every marriage is like your parents’. Maybe you’ll meet the right woman and love her so much you won’t be afraid anymore.”
She was surprised when he gave her the winsome smile that always warmed her.
“I have found her. I’m looking at her now. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I want you to be my wife.”
It took a minute to sink in. And then she was stretching her arms out to grasp him, heart pounding, as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. “Derek…Derek…oh, God, love me, please.”
He embraced her hungrily, kissing her soft lips and neck. She clung to him, never wanting to let go. How wonderful his strong arms felt, how safe and good.
He held her a moment longer, then gently lowered her to the ground.
“For the first time,” he whispered huskily, “I’m going to make love to you with no ghosts between us. We’ve a right to it, Julie, because we’ve committed our souls. Now we commit our bodies.”
He spread her cape out on the ground for them, and she watched with heated eyes as he undressed, his body a study in masculine perfection, emanating a strength so fierce as to overpower. He knelt beside her and gently removed her clothing, both of them oblivious to the cold night. His fingertips traced her face, her neck, her firm, supple breasts. He kneaded them possessively. “I love you, Julie,” he declared huskily, “and I’m never going to let you go. You’re mine now—for always and always.”
She pulled his head down to her breasts, and his hands stroked her back and then her rounded buttocks. He teased her nipples with his lips in small, nibbling bites, and they stiffened beneath the sweet assault. His head moved on downward, planting the soft curves of her body with warm, moist kisses.
He reached her thighs, and a spasm of intense joy arched her body as he devoured her with his lips. He tantalized her to her first eruption of ecstasy and then, before the joyful throes within her belly had subsided, he moved to enter her. A cry burst from her at his first penetration, and he continued to thrust mightily until another wave of blessed release left her sobbing.
He lifted her buttocks to meet his movements, and as he became lost in his needs, he was almost savage in his loving ravishment of her, but she urged him on, moaning and clutching, feeling consumed, as she wanted to be consumed for always and ever.
When at last he rolled to his side, arms still around her, he remained inside her, hot, pulsating. Her head was cradled on his shoulder. For long moments, neither spoke, wanting the spell to go on forever. Finally, Derek raised his head slightly and murmured, “Amidst all that moaning, woman, I never heard you say yes.”
“Yes!” she cried, gloriously happy. “Yes to being your wife. Yes to giving you all I have to give. Yes to doing everything I can to make sure we’ll have the happiest marriage ever.”
He laughed, and she had never heard him sound so much at peace. It was as though the end of a long, terrible journey had been reached. Now only rainbows and sunshine lay in their path.
A bit later, he suggested they wait until they reached their destination before marrying. The ceremony could take place in the fort. “I’ll resign my position as wagon master and become a pioneer.”
She was suddenly apprehensive. “Do you think you will be happy as a farmer, Derek? You’ve always loved being free to roam. How can you be sure you’ll want to work the land?”
“I loved roaming, Julie, but now I realize I was actually searching, not roaming. I’ve been searching for what I’ve found, and that’s you and the life we’re going to have together.”
She felt movements within her, and once more they were lost in their passion. Moments later, when they had reached their pinnacle together, he withdrew and raised himself on an elbow to look down at her. He said thoughtfully, “I think it would be wise if we kept our plans to ourselves for the time being. We’ve rough times ahead. I don’t need to tell you that. And I don’t need the added worry of people saying I’ve got my mind on you instead of my job.”
Julie quickly assured him she understood. “It’s not important that anyone else know. As long as we know, that’s all I care about.”
Derek felt her shivering and helped her to dress. He dressed, and then they propped themselves against a rock, arms locked around each other. Lost in each other, they didn’t at first hear Thomas’s cries. But then Derek stiffened, pulling away from her and leaping to his feet. “It sounds like Thomas.”
“Here!” Derek called with a robust cry, running toward the voice. “I’m here!”
Thomas raced toward them, a black outline in the darkness. As he reached them, they were alarmed by his agitation. “It’s Vance! He caught the Webber boy, Lonnie Bruce, nosing around his wagon and beat him up real bad. He’s drunk and he’s holed up in his wagon with a gun. Webber and the other men are fixing to go in after him.”
Derek spat. “Damn it, I knew there was going to be trouble.” The three ran back to the compound, and Derek stalked purposefully toward the scene. The men rushed to meet him, Lonnie Bruce’s father the most vocal, as they told him what had happened. In the distance, Esther knelt over her son. Lonnie Bruce was lying on the ground, the other women clustered around him, Esther murmuring.
Julie ran over and, glad to see Lonnie Bruce conscious, asked if he was badly hurt.
“I don’t know,” he wheezed, blood trickling from his mouth and nose as he lay on his back, clutching his sides. “He beat me bad, Miss Marshall. Real bad. The men heard me yelling and come running, and he jumped up in his wagon and poked his gun out and said he’d kill anybody that came any nearer.”
Elisa Thatcher stepped forward, eyes flashing. “They’ve been looking for the captain. Now it’s obvious why he wasn’t here when he was needed, here to do his job.”
“Oh, Elisa, shut up!” Julie cried. “This is no time for one of your tantrums.”
Elisa gasped and backed away. People did not speak to her in such a manner.
Just then a cry went up from the men, and everyone turned to see Arlo Vance appear at the rear of his wagon, his head and the barrel of a shotgun poking through the opening in the white canvas. “Back off,” he roared. “I gave that young pup what he deserved for snooping around my wagon. So you all just leave me be before I blow somebody to bits.”
No one saw Derek’s hand whip to his holster and bring up his gun to fire the shotgun from Arlo’s hands. Derek swung up into the wagon, his fist crashing into Arlo’s stunned face, sending him to the ground. Leaping down to tower over Arlo, legs wide apart, Derek cried, “You’ve got five minutes to get your ass out of here, Vance. If you’re still here in five minutes, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
Spitting out blood, Arlo looked up, eyes narrowed, lips quivering. Now was not the time, he told his drunken brain. Derek Arnhardt would get his, but not right then. The odds were too great. He’d be damned if he’d start a fight he couldn’t win. Damn it, he should have gone ahead and shot every damn one of them. Saved the Indians’ ammunition.
Warily, eyes still boring into Derek’s and conveying his message of hate, Arlo wiped a hand across his bloodied mouth, then got to his feet and began harnessing up.
The others fell back a little, and Derek turned and walked over to Lonnie Bruce, who was still on the ground, enjoying all the attention.
“How bad are you hurt?” Derek asked.
“I don’t know,” Lonnie Bruce whined, arms folded tightly across his chest. “It hurts real bad.”
Jasper Wilkins approached them. Jasper, a doctor’s son, knew a little medicine. He hadn’t been able to help Elisa, but he knew about broken bones. “I checked him over,” he told Derek. “He may have a cracked rib or two, but other than bruises and being sore, he’ll be all right. A big man like that beating up a young boy! It’s a disgrace.”