by Nan Ryan
Brit slid the smooth tip of his erection into place and slowly thrust until he was fully inside her. “Yes,” he said. “Thank heaven you’re my shameless wench.”
Grateful that he didn’t have to spend long moments arousing her, Brit began to pump forcefully into her. He had held himself in check for as long as he possibly could. Her body was too hot, too tight, too sweet. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Love me, baby. Take me, take it all,” he implored as he drove into her, the lean cheeks of his brown bottom flexing, his pelvis slamming into hers, his hard, seeking flesh plumbing the very depths of her hot, yielding softness.
His climax soon began and it was potent, powerful. Anna could feel him growing to an unbelievable size inside her and then felt the hot liquid gushing until it overflowed. She watched, entranced, as his eyes helplessly closed and his dark handsome face contorted in ecstasy. Thick veins stood out on his neck and the sleek muscles of his upper arms bulged and knotted.
When at last he groaned out his final release and collapsed tiredly atop her, Anna held him and hugged him closely. She supposed that when his breath returned to normal, he would move off her and stretch out beside her.
When he shifted slightly, she started to pull away, but he stopped her.
“No, don’t move,” he said. “I’m going to stay right here where I am, inside you, until you make me hard and hot again. Then I’ll love you properly.”
His flaccid flesh remaining inside her, Brit lay between Anna’s slender legs and began to excite her all over again. He kissed her lips. He fondled her breasts. He sucked her nipples. He spoke in a low, sexy voice of all the things he wanted to do to her, with her. Of all the ways he wanted to make love to her.
Responding, Anna kissed him back. She playfully bit his sleek shoulders. She ran her nails down his deeply clefted back. She drew her right leg up and wrapped it around his hips. And she agreed, in a soft, sensual voice, that she wanted him to show her everything there was to know about lovemaking.
In minutes they were both aroused.
Anna could feel Brit swelling inside her as the blood rushed to that most male part of him. It was, she thought happily, a wonderful experience to feel her lover’s flesh changing from soft and harmless to rigid and powerful while inside her.
“I’m ready to make love to you,” Brit murmured.
“I know,” she said, “I can feel it.”
This time Brit took it nice and easy, and it was heaven for them both. They lay in the mellow lamplight and made slow, sweet love. Brit no longer had to coach Anna to look at him; she gazed steadily into his eyes as he filled and stretched and moved within her.
Through the cooling September night, Brit patiently taught Anna all he knew about lovemaking. He showed her the incredible pleasure that could be had when a man and a woman made sweet, hot, unhurried, uninhibited love.
If Brit was the patient teacher, Anna was the eager student. No matter how astonishing his request, she didn’t hesitate to comply. When he left the bed, sat down in an armless rocking chair, spread his knees wide and invited her to climb astride his lap, she accepted. And found that making love while rocking rhythmically back and forth was very pleasant indeed.
More shocking, but every bit as enjoyable, perhaps more so, was when Brit turned her about on the bed so that she was facing the same direction as he. His arm around her, his hand caressing her breasts, her stomach and that burning place between her legs, he entered her from behind, and it was wonderful.
And so it went.
Anna lay trustingly in Brit’s arms as they made love, her body and soul open to him, her heart his to keep or break. When finally the exhausted Brit fell asleep, Anna continued to lie there in the lamplight, wide awake, gazing at his beautiful brown body, wishing once again that everything could stay just as it was at this moment. That she could stay here forever in this bed with this man whom she loved so completely.
That, of course, was impossible.
Her blood beginning to cool, her doubts surfacing, Anna rose from the bed. She dressed in the shadows, blew out the bedside lamp, slipped out into the silent hallway and went to her room.
But she couldn’t sleep.
She lay there in the silvery moonlight reliving every touch, every word, every moment of ecstasy they had shared.
Still wide awake with the dawn, Anna rose, put on her riding clothes, slipped out of the still-sleeping house and went down to the stables.
Tiptoeing past a dozing young groom, she hurriedly saddled Dancer and led the gentle mare outside. She climbed into the saddle and rode away as the first pink tinges of light streaked the eastern horizon.
Thirty-Six
Anna headed for the cool uplands of the mountain tract as the summer sun began to strike El Capitán’s soaring peak. Soon leaving the pastures below, she urged the mare onto the path that would take her past Manzanita Springs.
At the springs, she dismounted, patted the gentle mare and tethered her to a nearby tree. Dancer neighed loudly, bent her head and began contentedly cropping at the patchy grass. Anna laughed and walked away.
She approached the hidden springs, batting aside willow limbs until she stepped out into the clearing. She smiled with delight. Despite the lingering drought, the springs still splashed and bubbled with cool, clear water.
Anna didn’t waste a minute considering it.
She stripped off all her clothes and jumped in. She shivered as the chilly waters closed over her bare shoulders, but she wasn’t cold for long. She swam the width of the springs and back again. She turned onto her back, pushed away from the rocky bank with her feet and floated on the surface, blinking as the sun began to fully illuminate the mountains.
When she pulled herself up onto the bank, the rapidly rising sun felt good on her wet, chilled skin. With both hands she swept back her saturated hair, wound it into a thick rope and squeezed the excess moisture from it. She then sighed and stretched out on her back to let the sun completely dry her.
She realized, as she squirmed around to make herself comfortable, that she had chosen the very spot where she’d come upon Brit that afternoon in May. He had been lying right here where she was, and he’d been stark naked, save for the Stetson covering his groin. She had been shocked and outraged, while he had laughed and teased her.
Anna smiled now, thinking that a person would have to get up pretty early to best Brit Caruth. He was a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. He was, no question about it, good at everything he did.
LaDextra had told her that Brit was a self-made man who, from the time he was a boy, had been dependent upon his own ingenuity for survival and success. She said Brit was the epitome of the tough Texas rancher. He could ride like a Comanche, rope like a Mexican and shoot like a Texas Ranger.
Anna felt herself flush.
There was something else at which he was quite good. He was a tireless master of passion who could make exquisite love for hours. She shivered as she recalled last night’s incredible loving. His body, she had learned, was not only extraordinarily beautiful, it was a well-honed instrument over which he had amazing control.
He had, it seemed, that same control over her body. He knew just when and where to touch her to set her on fire. Just what to do to get her so excited she gladly shed all inhibitions. Just how to turn up the heat until he knew she was ready for him to bring her to those earth-shattering climaxes that lasted and lasted.
Shivering with the recollection of all the things they had done during the long romantic night, Anna rolled up into a sitting position. He was a magnificent lover, but did he love her? He’d said he loved her, but that was in the heat of passion. Had he really meant it?
Only time would tell.
Anna rose to her feet. Her tall slender body was now perfectly dry, although her thick, long hair was still damp. She hurriedly dressed, wove her way back out through the maze of willows and mounted the patiently waiting Dancer.
She neck-reined the mare
higher up the mountain slope, planning to ride all the way up to the mountain tract and perhaps even through McKittrick Canyon. Relaxed in the saddle, reins loose in her hand, Anna studied the awesome scenery. She turned and looked back over her shoulder at the parched lowlands, saw the blackened acres of Tierra Verde. Her gaze swept over the craggy brush country spreading to the west and she realized that she had truly come to love this big, rugged land, just as she had come to love the big, rugged man who ruled over it.
Anna slowly turned back around in the saddle and gazed up at the stark, rocky beauty above her, unaware of the danger directly below her horse’s hooves.
A huge diamondback rattlesnake, disturbed by the horse and rider, slithered out of its rock-concealed nest. With its gleaming silver body bowed in an S-curve, its deadly fangs dripping venom, it prepared to strike the horse.
When Dancer heard the rattler’s deadly warning, the frightened creature whinnied and reared in terror, avoiding the diamondback’s deadly strike. But Anna, caught totally off guard, was unseated. She was thrown to the ground and her head struck a boulder. All went black.
Anna lay there unconscious as the September sun climbed high in the cloudless sky.
Dr. McCelland was the first one to reach The Regent.
Will Davis was a close second.
Other carriages began pulling up before the eight-columned mansion as the word quickly spread.
When the physician and the attorney arrived, Brit was at LaDextra’s bedside, consoling her, promising he would have Anna found and brought straight to her.
“Don’t you worry, darlin’,” he said, patting LaDextra’s age-spotted hand, “she’s probably gone for a little ride and will be home any minute.”
Tears in her pale eyes, LaDextra said, “I wanted to see her one last time before…”
“You’ll see her lots of times, LaDextra,” Brit calmly replied, not really believing it.
“If you’ll excuse us…” said Dr. McCelland as he hurried into LaDextra’s room.
“Certainly, Doctor.” Brit rose to leave. “I’ll be right outside,” he promised LaDextra.
While Will Davis stood silently across the hall from LaDextra’s door, Brit paced back and forth, up and down the wide corridor, wondering where Anna was and hoping she got back before…before…
Brit stopped pacing and turned to the attorney and close family friend. “Will, did you know about this? Did you know that LaDextra was so ill that she…”
“I did,” Will admitted. “I knew.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you tell anyone? Did you tell Anna?”
Will shook his head. “No. LaDextra asked me not to say anything to either of you.”
“Why, for God sakes?”
Will wearily shrugged. “You know LaDextra. She wanted—”
He was interrupted when the doctor stepped out into the corridor. Both Brit and Will turned anxiously to him.
“How is she?” Brit asked. “Is she—”
“LaDextra has suffered a major heart attack. I’ve been expecting it.” McCelland looked from one man to the other. “She won’t live out the day. I’m very sorry.”
“Oh, God,” Brit said, and started for LaDextra’s door.
But the doctor put a hand on his arm to stop him.
“Wait, Brit, LaDextra has asked to speak with Will alone.”
Brit nodded and began his pacing once more.
Will Davis drew a deep breath and went inside. Connie, LaDextra’s maid, was there by the bed, crying quietly.
Near death, LaDextra Regent was still formidable. “Connie, will you stop that infernal bawling and give me a minute with Will!”
Dissolving into loud sobs, Connie exited the room.
“Not doing so good today, dear?” Will asked as he reached the bed and squeezed LaDextra’s thin shoulder.
“Will, listen to me, I am dying and I know it.”
Will looked at her with deep affection and did not correct her. Tears filled his eyes and his voice broke when he said, “Oh, God, LaDextra, how will we ever get along without you? How will I?”
She said softly, “Dearest Will, you’ll be fine. So will the others. And as for me, I don’t mind so much, really I don’t. I’ve been mighty tired and useless this summer. Besides, I got what I wanted. My beautiful granddaughter is back home where she belongs.”
“Yes,” Will said, nodding, tears spilling down his cheeks. “And I—”
“Did you know that Anna’s in love with Brit?” LaDextra interrupted.
“I didn’t,” Will admitted, “but I’m not all that surprised. Most women are.”
She managed a weak smile. “That’s true. But I’m gambling that he loves her, too,” LaDextra mused, adding, “I know Brit so well. I’ve finally got it all figured out. If I leave The Regent to Anna, Brit will never admit that he loves her. He’ll go away. He’ll leave this land he loves so much.”
Will nodded. “I wouldn’t doubt it. He’s a proud man.”
“But if I leave everything to Brit…” She smiled and her words trailed away.
“So there is to be no change in your last will and testament?”
“None. It all goes to Brit.” She sighed as if a load had been lifted off her shoulders, and said, “Now send Brit back in here. I want to look at his face one last time. And find Anna! I want to see my granddaughter!”
Anna moaned as she began to come around. Her eyes opened, then immediately closed against the harsh midday sunlight. For a time she lay there with her hand shading her eyes, wondering how badly she was hurt. Dizzy, suffering from a pounding headache and feeling half-nauseated, she struggled to sit up.
Finally she managed it. She cautiously felt her arms and legs. She was pretty sure no bones were broken, and for that she was grateful. Better not try to move around too soon, she told herself.
She sat there resting, holding her aching head in her hands, waiting for the terrible dizziness to pass before she tried to walk. Unconnected thoughts began drifting through her mind. Things she hadn’t thought of in years.
All at once Anna’s lips fell open and her blue eyes widened.
Dear God, the blow to her head had made her remember things she had long since forgotten. Her heart racing, Anna sat there on the ground in stunned disbelief as her memory miraculously returned. She now remembered everything. Everything!
She was not The Regent heiress. She was Margaret Sue Howard and she had been taken by the Apache from her southern Arizona home. Chill bumps popped out on her flesh as she recalled, with horror, that hot summer day when a band of hostile Apache had ridden onto their property and killed her father, mother and brothers.
A choking lump rose in her throat as she remembered seeing her family brutally butchered before her very eyes. She remembered screaming and crying and being the only one left alive and praying that they would kill her quickly as she waited in fear for her turn to be murdered.
But they hadn’t killed her.
The savages had taken her with them when they left. With her home engulfed in flames behind her and her dead family left where they had fallen, she had been carried down into Mexico.
It was there, in the Apache mountain stronghold, that she had met another white girl who was about her same age. She, too, had been taken from her home and spirited down to Mexico. The blue-eyed girl whose hair was gold like her own was Anna Regent Wright.
The two of them had quickly become friends. Both frightened and lost, they had turned to each other for comfort. Day after day they had worked side by side, their bare feet bloody, their fingers raw, their backs breaking. And as they toiled they had talked about their homes and happier times.
It was the real Anna who had told her so much about The Regent and her family. That’s why she had known things that even Father Fitzgerald had not known. The real Anna had told her.
Tears sprang to Margaret’s eyes. Her poor friend! She had died of starvation in the winter of ’77. Until now she hadn’t remembered. She hadn�
��t remembered knowing her or that she had died. She hadn’t remembered anything after the cruel blow to her head.
She reached up and touched the fading scar on her right temple. She gritted her teeth as she recalled, with vivid clarity, the excruciating pain that followed the forceful blow to her head all those years ago from a sadistic brave’s tomahawk. She could remember all the other evil, laughing faces of her tormenters before she had mercifully passed out.
Shaking her aching head to clear it. Margaret now knew—for certain—that she was not the long-lost Texas heiress. She was immediately overcome with guilt. She couldn’t continue the charade. Before, she had told herself there was a chance that she actually was Anna Regent Wright. Now she knew better. And she knew what she had to do.
She could not, in good conscience, lay claim to The Regent when she knew without doubt that it didn’t belong to her. The vast desert-and-mountain ranching empire rightfully belonged to Brit and he should have it. She wanted him to have it.
Margaret Sue Howard rose unsteadily to her feet. She looked around for Dancer, saw the mare a few yards down the mountain, calmly swatting insects with her tail. She would ride straight back to the ranch. She would go to LaDextra and confess the truth.
It was the only decent thing to do.
Before she reached the house, Margaret saw the many carriages parked in the front drive and immediately grew alarmed. Something awful had happened. She felt it. She knew it.
At the stables she swung down out of the saddle and ran anxiously toward the house. Will Davis met her at the back door.
“Thank God, you’ve come home,” he said, then put a fatherly arm around her slender shoulders. “It’s LaDextra, Anna. She’s had a massive heart attack.”
“Oh, no! Is she…”
“She’s still alive, but barely,” Will told her. “Dr. McCelland says she won’t last the day.”
“Dear God,” murmured Margaret and she began to tremble with emotion. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Now you must calm yourself, Anna, for LaDextra’s sake,” Will instructed. “She’s asking for you. You’re to go right in.”
