Savage In Silk

by Donna Comeaux Zide

  “Haven’t you had any sleep at all?” Mariah drew back out of the immediate glow of the fire so that her expression was shadowed and indiscernible, but Jared sat before the fire and she could see every change in his expression. He shook his head, explaining, “I never sleep that well out here.” His eyes narrowed as they surveyed the darkness beyond the firelight. “Too much to watch for, I guess. What about you—you just a light sleeper or did the coyote wake you?” The gray eyes regarding her caught tiny flickering sparks from the embers, giving them a feral, almost predatory cast.

  “I’ve never slept out in the open before. The animal cry broke into a dream I was having.”

  Jared poured another cup of coffee and offered her a refill. When she demurred, still sipping at her first cup, he replaced the pot over the fire and turned to face her. “Tell me,” he said teasingly, “what do well-bred young ladies dream about? Knight-errants, off to battle a dragon for m’lady…or is that too personal a question?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she answered and added, “I don’t quite understand it myself. It was a very complicated dream but one which has no chance of becoming a reality.” She smiled enigmatically, small, pearly teeth glowing in the firelight.

  Jared’s eyes flashed with a roguish glint. “Perhaps I was carrying you off as part of my bounty, like some ancient warlord?” Mariah was taken aback. How had he guessed he was part of the dream? “I would have thought that’d be a nightmare instead of a harmless dream,” he added.

  “I shouldn’t admit it,” she replied with an embarrassed half-smile, “but you were in my dream. Actually you were very much the gallant. I was about to marry a Frenchman I met last year and suddenly, and just as the priest pronounced us man and wife, he changed into you.”

  Jared’s eyes narrowed. Mariah’s face was only a hands-breadth away; so close. He wanted to run a finger lightly across the ivory cheek and trace a path to the softly curving mouth, so moist and temptingly pink. “You don’t seem upset by the idea,” he said. “Did we at least consummate the marriage before you were awakened?” Then, suddenly, unable to resist temptation, he reached his hand deep into the silken curls to gently grasp the slim column of her neck and slowly pull the enchanting lips to his. She needed gentle handling, he knew, and he kept the pressure of his lips light. When she made no move to pull away, he grew more confident and rose to his feet, bringing her with him. Cautioning himself against the tide of rising passion that threatened to engulf him, he held her in a light embrace, pleased with the yielding pliancy of her body. Tracing a light pattern of kisses, his lips moved from hers to the soft, silken skin of her throat. A stifled moan broke from him as he buried his head in the great masses of scented tendrils and nibbled at the small, shell-like ears until she shivered under his touch and tried to break his hold.

  Twisting her head, she looked deeply into his eyes, issuing a silent plea for understanding. “I can’t…oh, Jared, please stop!”

  Jared never had a chance to find out whether or not he could have soothed her fears. His keen ears had picked up a strange sound. Pulling Mariah to the ground, he placed a hand over her mouth to warn her to be still. She stared at him, bewildered by the sudden change in him and by her own almost uncontrollable desire. As she watched Jared take out his gun and, catlike, move off into the darkness, silent tears slipped down her cheeks, and, more ashamed than frightened, she buried her face in her hands.

  The sound of a footstep broke into her reverie. Across the fire, about two yards from her stood a lone Indian brave. Paralyzed, she studied the man, who stared back at her with equal fascination. Suddenly there was a metallic click directly behind her, and she looked up to find Jared there, his gun pointed steadily at the Indian’s chest. The brave slowly lowered his own rifle to the ground, careful not to make a quick, inciting movement. His sharp, angular features remained warily tense as he extended his hand palm out toward Jared in a gesture of peace. Although the Indian had made no predatory move toward her, she was thankful that Jared stood behind her, protecting her. His deep voice rang out in a strange, gutteral language, and Mariah felt the tension ease from the atmosphere like steam escaping from a kettle. The brave’s features relaxed, the perfectly conditioned muscles no longer taut.

  The brave replied in the odd-sounding speech and she heard the rasp of metal against leather as Jared re-hostered his gun. He stepped to her side and as she glanced up, he touched the top of her head comfortingly and motioned the brave to the fire.

  Jared placed a hand at her elbow, drawing her to her feet. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “Buffalo Horn is a Blackfoot, a relative of my blood-brother, Gray Hawk.” He drew her along, his arm possessively around her waist, and Mariah was so taken by the events that she made no protest. At the wagon, Jared placed a hand beneath her chin and gently tilted her head up.

  “I have to talk with Buffalo Horn, and braves don’t fancy a woman joining in. Try and get some rest.” His lips touched hers so lightly before he left her that she almost thought she had imagined it. Settling down in the wagon, she found the tension of the night had left her exhausted and she drifted off easily, lulled by the voices from the fire.

  Chapter 7

  The warmth of the rising sun woke Mariah as a cool, fresh breeze caressed her face. She stretched, and the memory of the previous night returned. The thought of her response to Jared’s kisses was enough to bring a burning blush to her face. How could she face him today! He must think she was easy and unprincipled, a pawn for any man who whispered sweetly in her ear! She rose and quietly slipped off to the water hole, trying to arrange her thoughts into some logical order that would allow her to face him with a modicum of dignity. Splashing the cool water on her face soothed and refreshed her. She bent seriously to the task of brushing the tangles from her hair, becoming so involved she missed the sound of Jared’s footsteps.

  “Morning, Mariah,” Jared said huskily. The girl whirled, staring up at him like a startled fawn. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet the open admiration in his eyes. He moved off, puzzling over the change in her mood. Last night she had been warm and breathless with response and yet this morning…there was a distance about her that he couldn’t fathom. Despite his experience with various women, he was puzzled and more than a little irritated by her standoffish attitude. What had he done now?

  At the fire Mariah accepted a cup of coffee and refused to meet Jared’s eyes. “What happened last night with the brave?…what was his name…Buffalo…Horn?”

  She’s as distant as though nothing had happened between us, Jared thought, and his voice was as impersonal as hers when he replied, “He was sent by Brave Eagle to warn me there just might be trouble brewing.” Mariah started at his harsh tone, and it only served to confirm her suspicion that he did indeed despise her for last night. She stared miserably into the grounds at the bottom of her cup, only vaguely aware he was explaining further. “Again and again the tribes have been stricken by diseases brought by the whites. This time it’s smallpox sweeping the villages; in the past it’s been cholera and scarlet fever. Your holier-than-thou, upstanding citizens come out here and settle and steal the land, and trappers steal the pelts and leave nothing but death in payment.” He spit out the words as though they choked him, and glared at her as though it were all her fault.

  Feeling the need to apologize, Mariah expressed her sympathy. “I’m sorry, Jared…I know it doesn’t seem fair. They seem like such a proud people.”

  “Yeah…for as long as they last, anyway.” He glanced up at the sun, then curtly nodded in her direction. “We’re moving out now. Still got a ways to go.” He didn’t wait for a reply, moving off to hitch the team to the wagon. Mariah stared after him, hurt tears ready to flow. Mechanically, she moved to gather their cooking utensils and pack them away, anxious not to anger him further.

  When they were ready to leave, Jared came around the edge of the wagon to lift her aboard. For the entire time he’d spent breaking
camp, he’d been brooding about her actions the previous night and now he’d reached the boiling point. As he placed his hands at her waist and felt her stiffen, his temper exploded.

  “I want something settled before we move out.” His hands were a steel band around her waist and his eyes were so stormy blue with rage that her own were transfixed fearfully on his face. “You wanted me last night—as much as I wanted you. Don’t try to lie about it I"

  Mariah struggled uselessly against her anger and his hold. “Please don’t…don’t remind me! You forced me. I…didn’t know…Her voice trailed off as she became miserably aware that she couldn’t explain her behavior.

  Jared pursued the conversation with an obstinate relentlessness that allowed no mercy. “I said you had a lot to learn, Miss Randall, a hell of a lot! It’s time for your second lesson now,” he said coldly, adding, “See that you pay attention.” Mariah cowered, trembling like a small, captive bird. She began to struggle earnestly against his hands as his head lowered menacingly to crush her tender lips in a violent kiss. Fighting for breath she tried to evade his lips, pushing helplessly at his chest, only to have her hands grasped together by one huge hand, Jared’s other hand tangled in her rich black tresses. Her head was forced cruelly back and his tongue thrust hard into her mouth, probing the soft, tender interior. The hard, sleek length of his body pressed her painfully against the sharp edge of the wagon, bruising her spine as it bruised her dignity. Tears overflowed her eyes, cascading down her cheeks. Jared released her, and with a voice infuriatingly controlled and cold he said, "That, Miss Randall, was force. Compare it with what passed between us last night and you’ll see which of us is telling the truth.”

  Mariah’s breast rose and fell with each gasp of breath. Her eyes had lost their fright and gleamed with feline green fury, narrowed as she glared at the hatefully arrogant face of the man who had dared to degrade her body and humiliate her. The long, slender fingers formed claws at her side, rising to tear the smirk from his face. Jared easily deflected the claws. His laughter was mirthless, his eyes hooded to mask the desire her soft body had aroused. Damn her anyway! He’d started out to teach her a lesson and had been trapped by her instead.

  Pulling her against his chest, Jared threatened her in short, measured words. “I could take you here, at this very moment, with no interference. Don’t push me too far, little girl.” For the briefest moment he was ashamed of how far he’d pushed her. She went limp in his grip, blanching as the import of his threat sank in. Damn, he cursed again. She had no right to tease him and play the temptress and then look like a small child he’d beaten. Cursing silently, he bent to lift her to the wagon seat, only to have her flinch at his touch. Cursing aloud now, he cruelly pulled her into his arms and easily cast her light body onto the seat. Her tightly shut eyes sprang open in surprise, then filled with resentful accusation.

  Usually he handled the team with a calm, steady hand but anger made him drive the horses forward furiously and, as they reached the trail, he flicked the whip lightly to force them into a racing gallop. Mariah was jolted from side to side and had to hang on for dear life. Her bruised lips jutted in a sullen pout and she glanced sideways, silently railing at the man who had taken such crude advantage of her helplessness.

  The rest of the day they traveled on toward the ranch with the sun broiling down on them. It occurred to Mariah that she hadn’t seen any clouds since leaving the boat, and she wondered if they existed in this forsaken place. The only relief from the relentless heat was the occasional shade offered by trees alongside the rutted trail that served as a road. With every jolt and bump she regretted more the rash actions and rebellious spirit that had brought her here. Even the thought of marriage to Jack began to hold some appeal.

  By noon, Mariah was exhausted. Her cotton blouse and skirt stuck damply to her body. Jared pulled the wagon to a halt beside a small stream to rest and water the animals. He and Mariah had ignored each other for five long hours. Anxious to cool her flushed face, Mariah jumped to the ground without waiting for assistance. A pained cry escaped her dry, sore lips as she landed on her left ankle and twisted it beneath her. Jared was immediately at her side, his hands impatiently brushing hers aside as he felt for a break, finding it only mildly sprained.

  Ignoring her protests, he picked her up and carried her to the bank of the stream, propping her back against a tree while he removed her shoes. The ankle had puffed and turned an angry red and though he tried not to jostle it, Mariah had to bite her lip to hold back another cry of anguish. “Can you wiggle out of a couple of those petticoats?” Jared asked.

  Mariah stared at him, half in pain, half in defiance. She was positive he was just taunting her again. “I won’t —haven’t you already done enough to me?”

  Jared had already recognized the set to her chin that predicted rebellion. He damned her stubbornness, while a part of him admired her spirit. “Don’t be so straitlaced,” he said impatiently. “You’re so hot now you’ll faint any second. I told you not to wear so many.” He glared down at her full, belled skirt, commenting dryly, “You must have on fifteen or more!” He raised his eyes to hers, issuing an ultimatum. “I’ll have my back turned for five minutes while I water the horses. Either you have on only one petticoat when I come back or I’ll take them off myself. Believe me, you’re in no condition to stop me.”

  Mariah gritted her teeth in rage as he made a mocking bow and turned his back as promised. Of all the unmitigated gall, she fumed silently. There seemed to be no end in sight to her humiliation. Still, after considering the alternative, she moved to obey. Actually, he had been close on the count. She was wearing twelve slips. She pulled at them, wincing each time she jolted her ankle. As each petticoat came off and was added to the pile, she placed another curse upon his head. Though she would have died rather than admit it, she breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of all that hot, bulky material.

  True to his word, Jared returned in five minutes, stifling a smile at the sight of the high pile of frilly undergarments. He knelt at her side, took two of the petticoats and ripped them into strips, ignoring her cry of protest. Dipping them in the cold, running water, he wrapped them tightly around her ankle. “That’ll keep the swelling down until we reach the ranch.” He wet a few more strips and handed them to her. “This’ll help to cool you off,” he grinned, and added, “something you badly need.” Squinting up at the sun, he said, “We can stay here for another quarter hour and still reach the ranch in another three hours.” He directed his next wry comment to her behavior. “Can’t say I won’t be happy to see this trip end.”

  “You have my sympathies, Mr. Bryant…I know exactly how you feel!”

  Fifteen minutes later they were under way again. He drove more gently this time, in deference to her ankle, but beneath the wet cotton wrappings it throbbed unmercifully with every jolt of the wagon. She leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes and resting. The sun warmed her face but she was so tired and worn she refused to worry about the freckles that would soon dot her fair complexion. In this desolate, God-forsaken place, she thought forlornly, who would notice a few freckles?

  She must have dozed off, for as the wagon lumbered through a small river ford, the whinnying of the horses and the splash of water on her arms brought her back to reality. She raised her hand to shade her eyes against the sun’s glare, saw that it had lowered considerably in the sky and inquired when they would reach the ranch.

  “It’s just across the Marias…the Bitterroot is another five miles or so.” His answer was noncommittal as he stared straight ahead.

  Relief flooded over her. Very soon, she could rest in a real bed and the thought of a bath sent her into ecstasy. Glancing down at the dust on her clothing and the water that had splashed and turned it into dirty mud spots, she frowned dejectedly. Her hair was tangled and dirty and her skin was so hot and tight, she knew that the sun had burned her while she slept. Was that a blister she felt on her nose? What kind of impression would s
he make? She was well aware that her half-sister didn’t want her to stay, and she could imagine the welcome she would receive when she turned up rumpled and dirty and looking like someone’s poor relation. She faced the fact honestly. She was indeed nothing more than a poor relation, and to her mortification, two forlorn tears trickled down her face.

  Jared had been watching Mariah out of the corner of his eye. He suppressed his amusement as, in typical feminine fashion, she made a detailed appraisal of her appearance. When her expression crumpled, and two large tears traced a path down her cheeks, he barked roughly to hide his concern, “Now what’s wrong?” She started at the sound of his voice and as her bottom lip trembled, caught it between her teeth, revealing her vulnerability in a way he had come to recognize. She looked so miserable, with her eyes big and liquidly green that he was tempted to stop the team and pull her against his shoulder to comfort her.

  “N…nothing,” she stuttered. “My foot hurts and I’m tired and hungry and…and…homesick!” Embarrassed, she covered her face with both hands and gave in to her misery. Jared cursed in frustration, knowing that if he yielded to his impulse to comfort her, her pride would probably force her to reject his help. Hell, they were almost there! She’d calm down when she’d had a hot bath and a rest. There was nothing to do now but get her there as soon as possible. He whistled the horses to a faster pace as Mariah struggled to compose herself.

  Chapter 8

  Lilith Draper stood before her mirror, nervously checking her face and figure for the tenth time in an hour. Tense lines had formed at the corners of her full, sultry mouth, and she peered suspiciously at the lines, worried that she was starting to lose her looks. She looked, she thought, much the same as she had in 1834 when the girl who was coming to stay had been born to her. At the age of thirty-three, she was still a classically voluptuous blonde. Carefully scrutinizing every feature, she decided that she looked more like a mature twenty-three. The lush curves were even lusher, but running her hand over a rounded derriere, she decided she’d best watch her diet for a while. There was a large difference between voluptuous and matronly. Crossing to her bureau, she took the stopper from the elegant crystal perfume bottle and lavishly dabbed at her wrists and throat. The rich, heavy scent of gardenias filled the air, surrounding her like a protective cloak.