She arched in his arms, loving the feel of his lips on her skin. He nibbled at the sensitive little hollow of her shoulder and chuckled when she sighed in delight.
"How many nights have I tortured myself thinking of the softness of your skin," he murmured against her throat.
His lips covered hers.
"And how many times have I tasted you on my lips. Oh, Cammy. How long I’ve waited to love you."
He kissed her deeply, feeling her fingers clutch at his shoulders.
A strange feeling of languor invaded her body. Her limbs felt heavy. Soon, she knew, her legs would no longer be able to support her. She would have to cling to his strength.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the straw mat covered with the quilt. As he settled his long length beside her, she boldly reached for the buttons of his shirt, longing to feel his skin against hers.
He laughed at her sudden boldness and helped her as she fumbled with the first button. He unbuckled his gunbelt and tossed it aside, then shrugged out of his boots and pants.
Cameron tentatively touched the dark hair that curled on his chest and tapered to below his waist. Recognizing her hesitation, he fought his growing need and forced himself to be slow and gentle.
They were bathed in a pool of dappled sunlight. He lifted her hair, watching the fiery strands sift through his fingers. She saw his eyes narrow slightly before he bent to her lips. With his tongue, he traced the outline of her lips. Her lips parted in invitation, but still he only traced their fullness with his tongue. She trembled, aching for his kiss. When she could wait no longer, she caught his shoulders, drawing him to her.
His arms came around her, crushing her to him. The dark mat of hair on his chest tickled her breasts.
"Hold me, Cammy. Put your arms around me."
She allowed her fingertips to roam his naked back, loving the feel of hard, corded muscles.
He pressed his lips to her throat, feeling the little pulse that throbbed. With soft, feathery kisses, he roamed her shoulder, her collarbone, then dipped lower, to the soft swell of her breast. He heard her little gasp as his tongue circled her nipple, feeling it grow taut at his touch. Slowly his tongue moved, ever so slowly, until she thought she would die from the waiting, the wanting. He closed his lips over her breast. Deep inside her something contracted. He moved his lips to her other breast and she moaned, soft and low in her throat.
She had never known such feelings. With soft little sighs she moved in his arms, needing more, needing to give in a way she had never known before. Pressing her lips to his throat, she heard his low, gutteral growl.
He moved over her, his lips, his fingertips roaming her body at will, taking her higher than she had ever been. She seemed to have lost all control. There was only this room, this man, and the pleasure his touch brought. Each time he held her, her heartbeat quickened. Each new touch made her blood sing in her veins. His fingers and lips and tongue probed all the secret places of her body, bringing her to a level of desire she had never even imagined. A slow fire was building inside her until, fanned by his passion, it raged out of control.
Like a flower, she opened to him, and he to her. They closed around each other, their breath mingled, their bodies moving as one.
He cautioned himself to take her gently, slowly, aware that for her everything was fresh and new. They moved together in a soft cadence, a rhythm as old as time itself. And Cameron knew, as she had somehow always known, that this man in her arms was the only man meant to be her mate. She had been born for him alone.
Suddenly, she was beyond thinking. A searing, blinding passion took hold, driving her to match his strength, his rhythm.
Tenderness fled. He took her almost savagely then, crushing her to him, taking her with him to places they had never been before. Higher they soared, and higher still, until Cameron thought she would explode into a million shattering feelings. He felt the shudders that tumbled through her. For long moments she felt lost, drifting, absorbing him, bits and pieces of him, blinded by a white-hot light that blotted out all reason.
They lay, still locked together as one, his face pressed to a damp tangle of her hair. She could feel his unsteady breathing, the wonderful musky scent of him. Her heart was nearly bursting with the love she felt for him.
While his breathing grew more even, she clung to him. This strong, obstinate, tough-talking, surprisingly gentle man was the only one who would ever own her heart. For all those years that she had waited in a kind of limbo, she had been preparing to travel back to this place, this tiny cottage, and this man. In his arms she knew she finally had come home.
Her tears began to flow freely, washing away all that had gone before. Jarret and Alex no longer mattered. The pain and humiliation were forgotten. She was reborn this moment. Her life began now, with this man’s love. She made no move to stop the tears.
Colt touched her cheek, then, rolling to his side, he leaned on one elbow and wiped her tears with his thumb.
"Cammy. Oh, God! Did I hurt you?"
She smiled through her tears. "No, Colt. You could never hurt me. I know that now." She caught his hand and kissed it. "I love you."
He was watching her eyes. Suddenly, she realized, he had gone very still.
"What’s wrong?" She touched his arm.
For long moments he was silent.
Her heart nearly stopped beating. What if she had spoiled everything by declaring her love? She should have kept her feelings a secret, locked safely in her heart.
He took a deep breath. "Cammy, you’re so open, so good. You’ve just given me the most special gift in the world. And I’ve kept so much from you."
She watched his face as he absently traced a finger along the curve of her cheek.
"You deserve to know who I am and what’s going on here." He glanced at the scar on his wrist. "I suppose it all begins with this."
She touched the scar, then pressed his hand to her cheek. "It begins with a scar?"
He nodded. "In the world beyond Virginia City, my name really is Michael Gray. I’m a Texas Ranger. I served in Texas with your uncle, Quenton."
Her eyes rounded. "Quenton told me he’d served for a year. He said he needed to prove something to himself."
"He wasn’t cut out for that kind of life, but he served his year admirably. He was only an adequate lawman, but as a friend he has no equal. One time, while we were hunting a band of outlaws, I nearly lost my life. Quenton and I were crawling toward a cabin where they were holed up, and a buried animal trap snapped over my wrist. It was old and rusted, and it chewed through the flesh clear to the bone. There was no way I could pry it open. We were caught in a crossfire between the bandits and my own men. I ordered Quenton to pull back, out of the range of fire." His voice thickened with emotion. "I was prepared to take out my hunting knife and cut my damned hand off. But Quenton crawled to me, used his knife and rifle to pry the trap open, and hauled me, unconscious, to safety. And all the while, we were under heavy fire."
Cameron traced the scar. "How it must have hurt."
"I barely remember. It was so badly infected I was out of my mind for days. Quenton stayed behind with me in the cabin while the rest of our company took the outlaws back to town. He nursed me back to health and managed to save my hand. I vowed then that if I could ever repay the favor I would."
He drew her close, murmuring against her temple. "When Quenton wrote to tell me that accidents were beginning to happen and that he suspected that someone was out to steal his father’s land, I came running."
She pushed away to stare at him. "You mean, you’re here to help Quenton, not hurt him?"
He nodded. "Cammy, this was all part of our plan." He ruffled her hair playfully. "But you came along and, being the little hellcat you are, managed to change things."
He could see the relief in her eyes.
"And my uncle isn’t really the town drunk?"
Colt smiled. "I’m afraid he’s had to do more than his share of drinking
at the Delta Saloon lately, but it’s all in the line of duty."
"If you’re here to help Quenton, why did you move in with my stepbrothers?"
His voice deepened. "To keep an eye on you, little wildcat. Now that Alex and Jarret know you share Quenton’s inheritance, you’re marked for the same fate they plan for him."
"Michael." She raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing on Allumette Island?"
"Visiting friends. My family lives in Ottawa. They’re—wealthy and rather influential. My father is a magistrate. There’s talk of a political future for my brother." He smiled wryly. "My father had always hoped I would follow him into law. But I’m afraid this wasn’t quite what he had in mind."
"Do you get back to Canada often?" She found herself wondering if he would have ever returned to her island.
"Not as often as my family would like. But occasionally I show up just to assure them I’m still alive."
She sighed. "I’m so glad you told me the truth. And I’m so relieved to know that you’re on the side of the law. You’re just pretending to be partners with my stepbrothers. I should have known. I couldn’t possibly love someone as evil as them." At the mention of their names, she felt him grow tense. She looked at his face, dark with rage. "Miriam said they didn’t come down to breakfast. Did you . . . ?"
"Kill them?" His eyes narrowed. "I should have. I would have, except I was so worried about you I didn’t take the time to finish them off. As soon as I was able to knock them out, I carried you upstairs to your room."
He pulled her close again, pressing her tightly to him. "When I saw what they were doing, I went crazy. I don’t even remember the fight. I only remember seeing you being held down by that animal and then hearing Alex and seeing you sprawled on the ground, unmoving. I was terrified that they’d killed you. Oh God, Cammy. I’ve never known such fury. Or such fear."
His lips closed over hers. She could feel the tremors of emotion that rocked him. Her heart soared. The man she loved, the man who had saved her honor, and her life, wasn’t a gunfighter or a gambler. He was an honorable man, on a mission of friendship.
When he lifted his head, he studied the tousle of hair that fanned out around her head. Her eyes were wide, luminous, glowing with love. Her lips were moist and eager for his kiss. It didn’t seem possible that he could want her again. What had this little creature in his arms done to him? He was bewitched. He felt the driving need grow even as he bent to her.
She matched his need with a wild, primitive joy that surprised him. Kissing his eyelids, his mouth, his throat, she drove him nearly mad with desire. Boldly, she touched him as she had never dreamed she would touch a man. And when he thought he could wait no longer, he took her with even greater passion than before.
* * *
Dusk was settling over the land. Colt shifted so that he could study the beautiful woman who lay in his arms.
What had she done to him? Every time they came together, sparks flew. She could make him angrier than anyone he had ever met. She could make him laugh with a simple word or gesture. And he desired her. Even now, sated from their hours of lovemaking, he wanted her.
He had never known such feelings for a woman before. It was more than her beautiful body that sent his blood pounding in his temple. It was more than her impulsive nature that made him want to throttle her one minute and admire her the next. There were out of control passions here—deep feelings that he had never before experienced. He wanted to protect her. In fact, he wanted to kill anyone or anything that threatened her.
He swore in frustration and, slipping his arms from around her, stood and dressed. He had been away from his men, his duties, too long. He was getting soft. His prolonged absence only sharpened his appetite for adventure. Thankfully, this would soon be over, and he could get back to a way of life he had come to enjoy.
By the time she came fully awake, he was standing by the window, staring at the gathering darkness.
She sat up and reached for her dress. As she slipped it on, she sensed his tension, as he kept his back to her.
"Colt."
He turned.
Her voice reminded him of lush velvet. "You said you’re a lawman. But Texas Rangers travel far from home. Sometimes, I understand, you even cross into Mexico in search of outlaws. Do you like that rough life?"
He watched the way her hair flamed even in the shadows. His voice was toneless. "I’m good at what I do."
She paused. "And when you’ve—paid back your debt of friendship to Quenton, will you go back to—doing what you do so well?"
In the long silence he turned and stared out the window.
He didn’t need to reply. She knew. He was an adventurer who loved his life. Fences, walls, ties would stifle a man like Michael. And so would a wife, and a home and family.
And if our child was conceived today, she thought, my life will have come full circle, Colt will go away, even out of the country if he has to, and never know his own. A Texas Ranger. Constantly on the move, chasing outlaws. And I’ll stay here, chasing a legacy of my own. The McCormick’s desire for more—always more. And the Lampton legacy of faded riches and shattered dreams of glory. We are alike, but our lives will always be at cross purposes. And we may never meet again.
She forced herself out of her gloomy thoughts. "Since you’re working for my uncle, I think you might like to see what I have." She hurried out to her horse and returned with the rock from the saddlebag.
His eyes narrowed as she handed it to him. "Where did you get this?"
"From the new mine. Last night, after Alex and Jarret left, I sneaked in and stole it."
"My God, Cammy! Don’t you even have enough sense to know when to be afraid? They would have killed you if they had caught you in there."
"They’re digging on my land. I have a right to know what they’ve found." She studied him. "Do you know what this is, Colt?"
He nodded. "I think so. I sent a sample to the assayer’s office. The report should be back soon."
"So. You’ve been sneaking around the mine, too."
He gave her a bleak smile. "There may as well be two fools in this together."
He caught her shoulders. "Now, Cammy, you have to promise me you won’t go back to that mine or that house. I can’t stand worrying about you, and I can’t keep on protecting you every minute of the day and night. Sometimes, believe it or not, I have to sleep."
She stiffened. "I’m not asking you to protect me. I can take care of myself. I’m not a fool, Colt. Last night convinced me. Alex and Jarret are far too dangerous. I have no intention of facing them again. I’ll go to Quenton’s. But first, I want to hurry back and get a few of my things together. And I intend to tell Miriam I’m leaving."
"Yes." He gave his grudging consent. "She’ll know enough to keep your secret. I don’t want Alex and Jarret even to guess where you are. Tonight Quenton and I will spring our trap. Within the next few days we should be able to have all the evidence we need to bring them to trial. We’re planning to set them up in the saloon, with witnesses." He glanced out the window. "If you’re determined to go back, you’d better hurry before it gets any darker. I’m riding to Quenton’s to finalize our plans. I’ll tell him you’re coming. Rose can prepare a room." He looked up.
"Would you like her to put you up in Elizabeth’s room?"
She nodded. "Yes, I’d like that." She turned.
He caught her hand and pulled her back into his arms. The instant surge of passion reminded him once again of her effect on him.
"Be careful." His lips closed over hers.
"I will."
He took her face in his hands and studied her, as if memorizing her features. "If anything ever happened to you ..."
"What could happen to me now?" Seeing his stern expression, she grinned. "Colt, I’ll be careful." She blew him a kiss and danced out the door.
Chapter Twenty-two
As Cameron made her way from the barn to the house, she felt a sudden prickle of fear. She had pu
t on such a brave front in Colt’s presence. Now she began to regret her impulsive decision to return to this place. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled at the thought of Alex and Jarret and what they had said and done the night before.
She was too close to them here. Just walking the same path from barn to house caused her alarm. It was too soon. The wounds were too fresh. Her skin grew clammy. She wiped her sweating palms on the skirt of her gown.
She must avoid them at all cost. They were both crazed with hatred and jealousy. They had become dangerous opponents.
Inside the front door, Cameron paused to listen for voices. The parlor and dining rooms were empty.
She could smell the rich, biting fragrance of wood smoke. The night had turned cool. The servants had kindled fires in the upstairs fireplaces.
Stealthily she made her way up the stairs to her room. Staring around, she recalled her first impression of the musty suite of rooms Alex had assigned her. It was cheerier now, with her bed linens freshened, the walls and floor scrubbed until they shone. But it had never felt like home.
She thought of her mother’s bedroom in the house across the hills. Tonight, she would be surrounded by all the lovely things of her mother’s childhood. If she wanted, she could sleep in one of her mother’s old nightgowns, lie in luxury in fragrant linens, hang her clothes in sachet-scented closets.
It would be a haven from this house of hatreds. But it, too, would not feel like home. There was only one place where she could completely relax. One place where her soul felt truly refreshed. In the tiny, crumbling cottage of her birth, safe in Michael’s embrace, she had found peace.
Into a valise she stuffed a change of clothes. Peering down the deserted hallway, she scurried to Miriam’s door, knocked, and hurriedly entered.
Miriam and Ti were seated on a loveseat pulled up before an open window. Locked in an embrace, they seemed oblivious to the world and their intruder.
Embarrassed, Cameron cleared her throat. When they looked up, she flushed.
Nevada Nights Page 20
