Tender Is the Storm

by Johanna Lindsey

  "Are you a jealous man, Lucas?"

  Between soft kisses, he murmured, "Don't know."

  "Then why did you say that?"

  "Let's just say, when you're with me, I want to be sure you're with me completely. Understand?"

  "I can barely think at all now, Lucas," she whis­pered.

  Her eyes closed and she moaned softly as he moved lower, his lips nuzzling her belly, his hands gripping her sides, raising her off the bed so that her head fell back. She was lost in sensation, whirling inside a tide that he deftly stirred.

  She nearly cried out as he stopped. When she opened her eyes, he was looking her over in a way that made her feel worshiped, adored, and wanted, definitely wanted. This man was not after her money or her virginity. There was no ulterior motive be­hind his lovemaking. He simply wanted her—for herself. The feeling thrilled her, striking a chord of warmth in her that had never been touched before.

  "God, you're beautiful."

  "I'm beginning to think you really think so," she said breathlessly.

  His eyes locked with hers. "But you don't think so?"

  "Oh, Lucas, stop talking," she moaned. She reached for his head and pulled him down to her.

  He laughed deeply. She wanted him now, but he wanted to savor her, explore her. He wanted to make her pleasure the sweetest yet.

  His lips claimed hers in a searing kiss, while his hands found her most sensitive places. He learned what delighted her most as he brought her to one exquisite height after another. He also learned that where Sharisse was concerned, there was as much pleasure in giving as in taking. Before the morning was over, he had broken down the last of her inhibi­tions. It was an experience neither of them would for­get.

  Chapter 25

  SHARISSE dropped the petticoat she had been O washing as Lucas came around the side of the house into the backyard. He was carrying Charley curled in his arms. He was grinning, and Charley was purring. Sharisse had to wonder if she weren't imagining things.

  But the moment Charley got a whiff of her scent, he let out a terrible howl and fought like a demon to get out of Lucas's arms. Once loose, he jumped through her bedroom window.

  "I had a feeling he'd do that," Lucas said as he straddled the rug-beating rail near her. "I couldn't figure out why he and I didn't hit it off. See, I usually have a way with animals. It runs in the family. But I finally figured out what was wrong."

  "What?"

  "When was the last time Charley had a female?"

  "Lucas!"

  He laughed. "I'm serious. He's a male and needs a female just like all males do. But with none avail­able, he's been using you as a substitute."

  "Don't be absurd."

  "That cat sees me or anyone else who gets near you as a rival."

  "Nonsense," she insisted. "I told you he just doesn't like strangers."

  "Then why did Charley just come up to me in the barn as friendly as can be? Because you weren't there for him to fight over."

  "You mean he really came to you?"

  "You saw for yourself that he let me carry him."

  "But if what you say is true, where am I going to find a female for him out here?"

  "I don't think Newcomb has any other cats, but I can send wanted notices to the nearby towns and see what we come up with. I need to take the buggy back today, anyway, so go change clothes and come with me."

  "But then how will I get back from town?"

  "You'll ride a horse. It's time you had a riding les­son, anyway."

  She turned away from him and went back to scrubbing her petticoat. "I think I'll stay here. You don't need me with you to place those notices."

  "But I want your company."

  "I've got too much work to do, Lucas."

  "Go put on those pants I bought you, Sharisse."

  Her head shot up. "I will not wear those pants, es­pecially to town!" How dare he order her?

  "I didn't buy them for you not to wear them. You're going to put them on."

  "I won't," she replied adamantly, shaking her head.

  He got up slowly and started toward her. She jumped back, bringing the soaking petticoat with her, holding it out before her as if it were a weapon.

  "You want to make a little wager, honey?" he asked softly. "You want to bet that you will go to town with me, and wearing those pants? You want to bet that I'll put them on you myself if you won't do it?"

  Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

  When he took another step toward her, she dashed for the house. Before she reached the back door, he caught her.

  "All right!" she cried. "I'll do it, but put me down!"

  He did, and Sharisse was enraged to see him grin­ning. "Don't be too long about it, or I'll think you still want my help."

  "Lucas Holt, you're a tyrant!" she snapped.

  He walked away, calling back over his shoulder, "No, I'm not. I just can't bear to be parted from you today."

  "Oh, I could just scream!" And she did.

  Two hours later they returned the buggy to Pete's Livery and Corral and stabled the two horses that would take them back to the ranch. Sharisse was wearing her traveling suit, the jacket over the shirt Lucas had bought her, the horrid pants concealed be­neath the skirt. Lucas laughed at her compromise, the loathsome brute.

  But she hadn't been able to stay angry with him. That was one thing about this rogue that was differ­ent from any other man she knew. She could be ut­terly furious, but he had only to grin and tease and cajole and she would forget what she had been angry about.

  Lucas left her at the mail dispatch office while he went to see if Emery's stage had left on schedule that morning. "There was something I forgot to tell him yesterday," he explained, "and if the stage is late as usual, it will save me having to write him about it."

  "What am I supposed to do while I'm waiting for you?"

  "Make three copies of the notice, and I'll pay to post them when I get back. You know better than I do how to describe the kind of feline Charley will like. Wilber will give you paper and pen. And check to see if we've got any mail while you're there."

  "But wouldn't the mail have been delivered to the ranch?"

  He shook his head. "You have to pick the mail up here."

  "You mean I could have had a letter sitting here and not even known it?" She was horrified.

  Lucas gone, she quickly went inside the office and spoke to Wilber at his desk. As quickly as her hopes had risen, they were dashed. No letter from Stepha­nie. There were two letters for Lucas, one from Mon­sieur Andrevie, New Orleans, and the other from Emery Buskett in Newcomb. She grinned. She sup­posed Emery had forgotten to tell Lucas something, too.

  She composed her inquiries carefully. Imagine, ad­vertising for a mate for Charley. It took a man who had advertised for a mail-order bride to think of or­dering a cat the same way. It also took a male to think of a male's needs. She sighed. She had never thought of getting a mate for Charley. A lady didn't think of things like that. Did she?

  Lucas did find Emery at the depot, just as the stage rolled in.

  "It was good of you to come see me off, Lucas."

  "Don't flatter yourself." Lucas grinned. "I had to bring back a buggy I hired." He helped Emery load his trunk onto the back of the stage.

  "I left a letter for you," Emery said, "explaining in detail my meeting with Newcomb.".

  "Good, but there's something else I want you to do, aside from what you're working on now."

  "Anything, Lucas," Emery replied eagerly. "That's what you're paying me for."

  "That friend of yours, the detective?"

  "Jim?"

  "Yes. I want you to find him as soon as you get back."

  "I doubt he'll still be in St. Louis, Lucas."

  "I don't care if he's on his way back to New York, just find him. I want you to get the rest of the infor­mation he has on that Hammond girl. I want her name, description, everything he knows about her."

  "Is she related to your fiancée af
ter all?"

  "Sharisse isn't sure, but she remembered having some cousins in New York, people her family lost touch with. She'd like to find out more about the girl."

  "It will be a pleasure to oblige such a beautiful young woman," Emery said agreeably. "I'm just sorry you didn't bring her to town so I could tell her so myself. I would have loved seeing her."

  "You forget that she's spoken for," Lucas said, a sudden cold edge to his tone.

  Emery grinned. "A woman like that is worth stealing, Lucas, even from one's friends." His smile widened as Sharisse caught his eye. "Ah, so you did bring her."

  Lucas looked down the street. Sharisse had just stepped out onto the sidewalk, and not twenty feet away, Leon Waggoner was making his way toward her.

  "Have a safe trip, Emery," Lucas said absently as he walked away.

  "But, Lucas ..."

  Emery fell silent, knowing when he'd been dis­missed. A strange man, Lucas Holt. Agreeable most times, sometimes coldly indifferent. He had stopped trying to figure Lucas out. It didn't matter what kind of man he was, as long as the pay was good. And it certainly was good.

  Chapter 26

  SHARISSE barely had time to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun before the clink of spurs made her turn around. The cowboy stopped as she turned. He was stocky, not young but not old, either. Something about the way he looked at her made her uneasy. Had she met him at Samuel Newcomb's party? If so, she didn't remember him.

  "Miss Hammond, ain't it?"

  "Have we met, sir?"

  He hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt, his stance relaxed yet belligerent, wary. "No, I guess I'm about the only one in town you ain't had the pleasure of meetin'. But that's easily rectified. Name's Leon, ma'am. I'm top foreman out at the Newcomb ranch. And you're even prettier than I been hearin'. Yes, ma'am, you surely are."

  Sharisse knew she had heard the name, but where? The very idea of his approaching her like that, let alone his manner!

  "Mr. Leon, if we haven't been properly intro­duced-"

  "It's Leon Waggoner," he said. "And I introduced us just now. I would have met you at the boss's party, only I missed it, thanks to your man and the shiner he gave me. I couldn't show my face for nearly a week."

  "You're the man Lucas fought with!" Sharisse gasped.

  "He told you, did he? I suppose he thinks he won that fight. Well, it was nothin' but a lucky punch. I bet he didn't tell you he caught me when I'd had too many drinks, did he? What'd you do to him to make him come lookin' for a fight?"

  "Me? How dare you, sir! I don't approve of fisti­cuffs."

  "What's fisticuffs mean, ma'am?"

  "Good day, Mr. Waggoner."

  He grabbed her arm. "Don't turn your back on me, woman," he growled. "That ain't good manners."

  "I think it was your mother who neglected to impart manners, Leon."

  They both started at the sound of that voice. Lucas stood, feet apart, hands at his sides. His face was granite-hard, matching his voice.

  Leon released her arm. "Your woman ain't very friendly, Holt."

  "Maybe she's just particular about who she talks to."

  Leon tensed. Something about Lucas just then gave him pause. The man was too calm, deadly calm.

  "It ain't finished between us, Holt. If you didn't have the lady with you ..."

  "Don't let that stop you, Leon. If you want to have a go at me right now, fine with me. If you'd rather go for your gun, that would suit me, too. I'll oblige you either way."

  Sweating, Leon shook his head. "You're crazy! You ain't been the same ever since she come. I'll look you up when you're back to normal. I ain't fightin' no crazy man."

  Lucas watched Leon hurry away. Perhaps he was a little crazy. He knew only that when Leon put his hand on Sharisse, he had wanted to shoot that hand off.

  He turned toward Sharisse, ready to calm her if she was upset. But those beautiful amethyst eyes glittering with anger was the last thing he'd ex­pected to see. Hadn't she been afraid?

  Sharisse was indeed angry, but it was a nervous reaction to Lucas, not to Leon. Watching him deal with Leon had made her realize what a paradox Lu­cas was. Had she been misled by his gentleness? Was he made of the same savage stuff as his brother after all?

  "How do you do it?" she accused harshly.

  "Do what, Shari?"

  "You become just like Slade sometimes."

  "Do I?" He grinned. "Slade will be glad to know that."

  "Why?" she asked warily.

  "He taught me all I know. You don't think a ten­derfoot like me could make it out here without a few survival lessons, do you?"

  "You mean that was all a bluff?"

  "Of course. What else?"

  She frowned. "Why do I have the feeling that's not the truth?"

  When he didn't answer, she asked, "Why do half the people in this town treat you cordially, while the other half go out of their way to avoid you?"

  "You're imagining things, Sharisse."

  "No, I'm not," she insisted. His expression told her he wasn't pleased by her observation, but she had to know. "Why do they fear you, Lucas? Is there a rea­son?"

  "It's not me they fear, damn it. You know that."

  "It's Slade? And it bothers people that you look alike?"

  He didn't even bother to reply. "What I'd like to know is why you've got Slade on your mind so much."

  "But I don't have him on my mind."

  "Don't you? I think my brother made too much of an impression on you."

  "If he impressed me with anything, it was that he was an arrogant, cold, heartless—"

  "That's a very strong impression."

  "Oh, nonsense!" she said in exasperation. "I told you I don't like him. I hope never to see him again. But I can hardly help thinking about him at times when you're acting just like him."

  He stared hard at her. What was he thinking? Did he suspect how close she had come to succumbing to Slade's kind of persuasion?

  "I am just like him in some ways, Sharisse," Lucas told her finally. "Maybe it's just as well you under­stand that."

  Now what the devil did that mean?

  Chapter 27

  SHARISSE set down the lunch she had packed for Lucas on the tack chest in the barn. He had told her curtly that morning that he and Billy would be riding up into the hills today to check on the foals. He hadn't asked her to make him lunch, but she hoped he'd appreciate it.

  If she had thought, three weeks ago, that she would end up trying to please this man, she'd have laughed at the absurdity of it. She had intended to be disagreeable, to make him dissatisfied with her so he would send her back to New York. Well, he had certainly been dissatisfied ever since that run-in with Leon Waggoner and their argument about Slade. He had barely spoken to her for five days, and he had not touched her once.

  It was just as well. Any day now she would be get­ting a letter from Stephanie and the money to get home. So why was she even bothering with Lucas?

  What an impossible situation! Her feelings were so contradictory. She wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. To physically desire a man she wouldn't consider marrying was terrible. What was wrong with her? She had to stop it, ignore the feelings he aroused in her. She had to get a grip on herself.

  Lucas wasn't in the barn, but Mack was. He was saddling his horse, and she frowned.

  "You're not going up into the hills with Lucas and Billy, are you, Mack?"

  He glanced at her. "No, ma'am. I'm headin' into town for a couple things Luke forgot to pick up last week."

  "You mean Willow and I will be here alone?"

  He understood. "No need to fret, gal. Luke'll be within shootin' distance if you need him. Anyone comes around here you don't recognize, you just fire that rifle he keeps over the fireplace and he'll hear you."

  "Oh. Well, I didn't realize he kept the foals that close to here."

  "Any farther, and they might end up disappearin'." Mack chuckled. "Indians, you know," he added.

  Sharisse ign
ored that. "I guess there is nothing to worry about, then. But you won't be gone long, will you?"

  "Nope. My days of stayin' over in town for certain unmentionable reasons is long past. I got all I need right here in my own whiskey stash."

  Sharisse smiled. The old timer was always so blunt. "Can you check the mail for me while you're in town? I'm expecting a letter."

  "Sure thing, ma'am."

  No sooner did Mack ride out than Lucas came in the back of the barn leading two of the new mares. Billy was right behind him. The horses were only blanketed, and as Billy mounted one, Sharisse real­ized they weren't going to saddle either horse.

  "Isn't it dangerous, riding that way?" she asked, just to break the silence.

  "This is their first ride with a man's weight on them. They need to get used to that before we go add­ing a forty-pound saddle."

  He was undoubtedly used to riding like that, so she had no business worrying that he might fall off. She didn't want to talk about horses, anyway. Her single experience sitting alone in the saddle the day they returned from town had been most unpleasant. Her backside was still tender.

  "I made you lunch."

  She gave it to him and watched anxiously as he put it in his leather bags. He was wearing his mocca­sins and a fringed buckskin shirt that stretched tautly over his hard muscles. Watching the play of those muscles had an effect on her, and she blushed furiously. If he didn't relent soon, she was going to be tempted to do the unthinkable and make the first move herself.

  Sharisse was glad the light in the barn was dim when, finally, Lucas turned and looked at her. Their eyes met, and she waited breathlessly for some kind of statement from him. But his eyes were unread­able. "This won't take all day," he said easily.

  Her heart fell. "You'll be back in time for dinner then?" she managed.

  "Before then." He started to mount, looked back at her once more, then growled, "Oh, hell!"

  He yanked her to him and kissed her long and hard. When he leaned back, his eyes were soft, his emotions obvious once again.

  "I haven't been sleeping well lately." The grin curled slowly. "I think maybe I've stewed long enough."