Tender Is the Storm

by Johanna Lindsey

  "I think so, too."

  He was obviously reluctant to let her go, but he had to. "Don't tire yourself out today," he told her as he pulled himself up on the horse.

  "I might make the same suggestion to you."

  He laughed delightedly as he rode away. Shar­isse stood in the barn door smiling foolishly as she watched him racing to catch up with Billy.

  Chapter 28

  SHARISSE had avoided thinking about her father since Emery Buskett had mentioned him. But with the ranch nearly deserted all day and time on her hands, she found herself dwelling on Marcus.

  Even if the means to leave came in the next few days, she couldn't go directly home, not yet. If the re­ward for her return was as large as Emery had said, then her father's rage was still at its height. It was out of the question to consider facing him until his temper cooled. But to be found by one of his detec­tives and returned to him would be even worse. So she couldn't travel back to New York just yet.

  She might be able to stay with her aunt. Surely Aunt Sophie's house had already been checked for her, and was unlikely to be checked again. And her aunt would take her side after she heard how unrea­sonable her brother-in-law had been about Joel. Aunt Sophie was a romantic.

  Another problem on Sharisse's mind was that she would have to confront Stephanie about her jewels. Her sister had ended up costing her dearly, more than she could have known. She could understand the desperation that had made Stephanie do it, though. And what had Sharisse really lost but her innocence? Truth to tell, she didn't miss it in the least.

  She smiled as Lucas crept back into her thoughts.

  She wished the time wouldn't tick by so slowly. An­ticipation was building.

  Sharisse strolled over to Willow's house, but a quick look inside showed that both mother and child were taking advantage of the quiet day to nap. She wished she were tired enough to do the same, but she wasn't.

  S,he sighed and headed for the backyard. The gar­den could always use watering. It was planted in good mountain soil, but it still tended to dry out quickly in the heat, and it was hot today. The sky looked almost white, without a single cloud.

  The bucket was down in the well. By the time she got it raised she was ready for a drink herself and set it on the ground to scoop up the water with her hands. In the second before her fingers disturbed the water, a face appeared in the water's reflection, above her face.

  Sharisse jumped up so fast that her head knocked his chin. The man grunted, and she gasped, and then they were staring at each other. She was so terrified she couldn't even muster a scream. An Indian-short, dusty—looking at her as if he had never seen a white woman. Was he as startled as she?

  Her hair seemed to fascinate him the most. She had let it down after Lucas left, remembering that he liked it that way. But now this savage was reaching for a lock falling over her shoulder. Was she going to be scalped?

  Her voice failed her, but her reflexes didn't. She knocked the Indian's hand away, moving just enough to see another Indian on a horse coming around the side of the house. No! There were two others, and there were more coming!

  She ran for the house and slammed the door shut. But one look at all the open windows told her it was pointless to bolt the door. The rifle over the fireplace was her only chance. Of course, she didn't know the first thing about using it, but an only chance was an only chance.

  The back door crashed open, and she raised the heavy rifle to her chest and aimed it at the door. It took all her strength. The momentum of the heavy thing carried her around in a circle, and by the time she got it aimed at the door again, there were seven Apaches crowding the room, their baleful expres­sions freezing her.

  Panic overwhelmed her, and her finger squeezed the trigger. If she could wound one of them, the others might back off. But nothing happened. She squeezed harder. Still nothing happened. Worse, they could see what she was trying to do and they be­gan laughing at her.

  "It might help if you squeezed the trigger instead of the guard."

  Sharisse whirled around to face the front door. It had quietly opened, and there he was. "Lucas! Thank God!"

  But as she saw how he was dressed, she realized it wasn't Lucas. Still, she'd never been so relieved to see anyone in her life—even Slade.

  He strode across the room and took the rifle.

  "Damn fool woman," he growled so low that only she could hear him. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

  Her back stiffened. "I was protecting myself."

  He swore under his breath as he put the rifle back in its place. Then he said something to the Indians in their own tongue, and they began to leave. When the last one was out the door, she sank back against the wall, color slowly coming back into her face.

  "You knew them?" she asked Slade.

  "Yes. I brought them here. A couple of their horses won't make it all the way to Mexico, where they're headed. They wanted replacements."

  As his words sank in, her temper exploded. "So you were here all along! You could have showed yourself sooner! Why didn't you?"

  His brows drew together. "I don't think I like your tone, woman."

  "You don't like it!" she shouted, coming away

  from the wall and facing him squarely. "I don't give '.

  a fig what you like! / don't like being scared to death. I

  I think you get some kind of perverted pleasure out of frightening women."

  "You're not making sense, you know."

  "I am making perfect sense!" she blazed. "You scared me intentionally!"

  "You're hysterical. If you'd settle down, you'd re­alize you got scared over nothing. You weren't in any danger."

  "Was I supposed to know that?" »

  "I might ask you how I was supposed to know I

  you'd take one look at my friends and go crazy? And as for your wanting to know where I was, Billy's wife heard us coming in and called out to me to say that Luke wasn't here. Not even a minute passed before I heard you cry out and I ran to investigate. I couldn't have told you I was here. No time."

  "A minute?" she gasped.

  Was that all the time that had passed? It probably

  was. So he hadn't meant for her to get frightened. It

  had just turned out that way. Oh, what an utter fool she had made of herself, accusing him. |

  "I ... perhaps I owe you an apology," she said lamely.

  "Forget it." He walked past her to the backdoor. After a moment staring at the corral, he informed her, "They've picked out the horses they want."

  "Shouldn't Lucas be asked first?" Sharisse ventured.

  "Wouldn't make no difference," Slade replied. "That's a raiding party out there. You either give them what they want and let them go on their way, or they take what they want and someone gets hurt."

  No danger, he had said. "Nice friends you have there," she said hotly.

  He glanced back at her. "Better my friends than my enemies."

  "Will they leave now?"

  He shouted something out the door and raised a hand in salute, then closed the door. "They've gone."

  "But aren't you going with them."

  He took off his hat and tossed it on the table. "I only met up with them this morning and rode along with them since we were heading in the same direc­tion. They came here for horses—and I came to see you."

  All of a sudden, the Indians were forgotten. "You mean Lucas, don't you?"

  "No, I mean you. In fact, it suits me just fine that Luke's not around."

  His eyes fixed on hers, a yellow-green so bright they seemed to glow. His gaze held her immobile as he closed the space between them.

  "Lucas will be back soon," she told him in a breathless whisper.

  "So?"

  "So you've wasted your time coming here if it was only to see me." She managed to sound a bit bolder.

  "Why don't you let me be the judge of that."

  He reached for her, but her hands held him off. "Don't, please. I've made a commitme
nt to Lucas since I saw you last. He and I ... we've—"

  "So he's bedded you." His mouth tilted mockingly. "I told you before that makes no difference to me."

  She took a deep breath. "It does to me!"

  "Does it? Let's find out."

  He knocked her hands away and brought her up hard against him. His mouth came down on hers with brutal fcB"ce. She squirmed, then gave up after a moment, for his arms were like steel. And then, unbidden, her body began to respond to him. And just as suddenly, Slade shoved her away from him.

  Sharisse stumbled back against the wall, bewil­dered. Hadn't she been through this before? In the mountains, just before they joined Billy? Then, too, Slade had kissed her only to release her. Was all of this just a cruel game he was playing, or did he have a conscience after all?

  "Well, I guess the question has been answered, hasn't it?" Slade's voice sliced through her. "You're as fickle as a woman can be. Or is it that my brother isn't enough man for you?"

  "What are you talking about?" she demanded an­grily. "You kissed me!"

  "But you kissed me back, woman!"

  So she had. Lord, what was wrong with her? They were two different men, not the same man. Why couldn't she separate them? Well, when her senses weren't being bombarded, she had no trouble sepa­rating them. It was only when they held her close that she couldn't control herself. Did she really de­sire them both? No! She couldn't accept that about herself.

  "Why did you kiss me if you didn't want me to kiss you back?" she asked.

  "Did I say that?"

  "Oh, will you stop confusing me? You were angry about it. You can't deny that."

  "You know me so well, do you?"

  His expression closed off, and a nervous chill ran down her spine. How did you deal with a man who could instantly conceal even the most powerful of emotions? He might be in a murderous rage without her even knowing it.

  "What do you want from me, Slade?"

  "No pretenses. When I make love to you, I don't want recriminations afterward."

  "You . . . you don't mean—?"

  His laugh cut her off, a most ominous sound. "I didn't come all this way just to talk."

  "But I don't want you!"

  As soon as she said it, she remembered that he was convinced otherwise.

  "If. . .if I did respond to you, Slade, it was only be­cause Lucas has ignored me lately."

  His eyes rolled over her slowly. "If you're trying to tell me he's tired of you already, I'm afraid I don't be­lieve it."

  "I didn't say that. We had an—argument—because of you!"

  She wanted to kick herself.

  "I wonder why?" he said thoughtfully. "Maybe he figured out that you've been yearning for me all this time."

  "How absurd! Must you always jump to the wrong conclusion? It was simply that he behaves like you sometimes and I don't like it and I told him so. He's as bad as you about drawing wrong conclusions. He assumed . . . oh, I. will not explain this to you!"

  "Why not? I'm fascinated."

  His amusement added to her frustration. "I be­lieve you've missed my point," she said with as much haughtiness as she could muster. "I don't like you or anything about you. You're a cold, callous man, Slade, and I despise your arrogance. You remind me of my father, though he's not nearly as ruthless as you are. I would be insane to want you when I have Lucas."

  "Even though he ignores you. Even though he might continue to ignore you?"

  "Even if he never touches me again," she insisted. "Because he's tender and thoughtful, and he wouldn't try to take what I'm not willing to give."

  "But does he excite you the way I do, beautiful?"

  In a moment he reached her and wrapped his arms around her. She was prepared to fight him, to prove that she really didn't want him, but he did the unexpected, and once again she was thoroughly confused. Instead of overwhelming her with hard passion, he moved his lips on hers with exquisite tenderness. He reminded her of Lucas so much that she reacted as she would to Lucas.

  Slade ended the kiss, but he didn't move away. His eyes smoldered as they pierced hers, making her melt.

  "You might think you prefer Luke, beautiful," he

  whispered, "but your body doesn't care which of us

  takes you to bed. You and I know that, I think it's

  time Luke knew it. Your bed is a good place for him

  "to find us when he gets here."

  "No!" she cried. He picked her up and carried her toward the bedroom. "Oh, please, Slade, you don't understand. It's what neither of you understands. Will you listen to me!" She pounded on his chest un­til he stopped and she had his attention. "When you kiss me, when he kisses me, it's the same. There's no difference between you. I don't understand why, un­less it's because you're twins. You both have the same power over me."

  "So you finally admit it?" His tone was not at all triumphant.

  "What I am telling you is that if you stand away from me and let me think clearly, I can say in all honesty that I prefer Lucas. You might be able to get what you want from me, but I hate you for it."

  "Is that supposed to bother me?"

  "Yes! I'm not fickle!" She said this as much for herself as to convince him. "Lucas has made me his— not legally, but his. One man is all I want."

  "That's what I came here to find out."

  "Do I have to beg you to leave me alone?"

  "Would you?" he asked softly.

  "Yes."

  Now he was triumphant. She saw it in his eyes. He wanted to humiliate her on top of everything else.

  She had never met anyone so despicable. She began to cry.

  "Is that necessary?" Slade said roughly.

  He set her down and moved away. Sharisse couldn't believe what was happening. Had she really found the means to hold him off? She cried harder.

  "Stop it, woman!" he demanded.

  "Will you leave me alone?"

  "Yes!"

  "You swear it?" she persisted between sobs. "You won't touch me again?"

  "I swear, damn it!"

  She quieted down. She had heard all she needed. She straightened her back and walked over to the kitchen for a towel to dry her face. When she looked back at Slade, he was scowling at her.

  "You know, beautiful, if I thought for one moment you-"

  "You swore, Slade," she quickly reminded him.

  "So I did."

  He grabbed his hat and moved to the front door, then stood there with the door open, staring out at the mountains.

  Impulsively she said, "It's too bad you and Lucas aren't one and the same, Slade. Then I wouldn't..." She stopped, amazed at herself. Couldn't she leave well enough alone?

  He didn't turn around to look at her, but she heard him laugh. "What? Be faced with wanting us both?"

  She didn't dare answer that. But she did feel a little vindictive after all he had put her through. "You know, there is a little of you in Lucas. I've found that out. But there's none of him in you. Go away, Slade. Leave us alone."

  Chapter 29

  SHARISSE was sitting at the kitchen table when Lucas and Billy rode in late that afternoon. She had a jug of brew before her, though she had no idea what it was. She had gone to Willow and asked her for something to calm her nerves, and Willow had complied, though with misgivings. Sharisse didn't care what she was drinking, because, with her cup near empty for the second time, she was calm.

  When she saw Lucas standing in the doorway, all she could see was those cursed moccasins, and her heart plummeted, as she thought Slade was back. But this was Lucas. No more comparisons.

  "You got back early," she commented.

  "Actually, I'm late," Lucas replied, his gaze fall­ing on the jug. "Hey, is that Billy's mescal you're drinking?"

  Sharisse smiled. "I don't know what it is. It's not bad after the first few sips. And you can't be late. Mack's not back yet, and he said he wouldn't be long."

  Lucas frowned. "Are you all right, Sharisse?"

  His concern warm
ed her. "Well, of course. Why shouldn't I be?"

  "Willow said Slade was here."

  "Yes, your dear brother did pay us a call. But you know, Lucas, I think I might have misjudged Slade. He's not such a bad sort really. Why, he didn't rape me or kill me or anything."

  Lucas burst out laughing. "You're drunk!"

  "I am not!"

  He pulled her to her feet, catching her around the waist. "This is not the kind of reception I was look­ing forward to, honey," he told her huskily. "I've been thinking about you all day, but how can I take advantage of you when you're like this?"

  "Take advantage of me?" She frowned, then reali­zation dawned. "Oh, that." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Well, sir, if you don't, I'll never forgive you."

  "Don't what?"

  "Take advantage of me. I insist."

  "Oh, well, if you insist."

  Sharisse squealed as he hefted her up onto his shoulder. He carried her straight into his bedroom and tumbled her onto the bed.

  She held on to him as she fell, making sure he joined her. How wonderful it felt to have him there and not to feel guilty about what she was feeling. What she felt was fire in her blood.

  "Oh, Lucas, I want you so much."

  Lucas tensed. "He does it to you every time, doesn't he?" he asked, eyeing her carefully.

  "Don't. Don't mention him," she pleaded. "It's you I want."

  His eyes searched hers for a long time before he answered, "Yeah, I guess you do, don't you?"

  He began kissing her, and she knew it would be all right. All she could think about was him, the heat of his mouth, the feel of his body pressing against her.

  But he stopped suddenly, listening.

  "It's only Mack returning," she said as she heard the hoofbeats.

  "There's more than one horse, Sharisse."

  "Company?" Her spirits sank. "But if we don't go out, they'll leave, won't they?"

  "I left the front door open."

  "You don't mean that whoever it is will just come right in?"

  "Most folks do."

  They glanced together at the bedroom door. It was open, too. Lucas swore and got up off the bed.

  "Come on." He sighed. "You keep looking at me like that, and I'm going to shoot whoever is out there."